
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6915184.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV), A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_-_George_R._R._Martin
  Relationship:
      Petyr_Baelish/Sansa_Stark, Past_Sansa_Stark/Joffrey_Baratheon, Minor
      Sansa_Stark/Ramsay_Bolton, Ramsay_Bolton/Theon_Greyjoy
  Character:
      Petyr_Baelish, Sansa_Stark, Tyrion_Lannister, Joffrey_Baratheon, Cersei
      Lannister, Tywin_Lannister, Varys_(ASoIaF), Ramsay_Bolton, Lady_(ASoIaF),
      Original_Characters, Original_Petyr/Sansa_Child(ren), Roose_Bolton,
      Pycelle_(ASoIaF), Daeron_Vaith_(ASoIaF), The_High_Sparrow, Olyvar_(Game
      of_Thrones), Ros_(Game_of_Thrones), Jaime_Lannister, Theon_Greyjoy,
      Tommen_Baratheon, Myrcella_Baratheon, Duvall_Hitachiin_(OC), Kaegan
      Irelan_(OC), Tristan_Amyas_Eddard_Baelish/Thorin_Marx_(OC), Gwendolyn_
      (OC), Brienne_of_Tarth, Myranda_(Game_of_Thrones)
  Additional Tags:
      Rape/Non-con_Elements, Kidnapping, Mental_Torture, Physical_Abuse,
      Iliteracy, Murder, Blood_and_Gore, Evil_Corporations, Friendship/Love,
      Male-Female_Friendship, Oral_Sex, Sex, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern
      Setting, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, A_Little_OOC_For_Petyr, Fluff
      and_Angst, Domestic_Fluff, Sad_with_a_Happy_Ending, Water_Torture,
      Brothels, Petyr's_Smirk, Prostitution, Crime_Scene_Clean_Up, Cute_Petyr,
      yeah_that's_a_thing, cuddly_toys, Adoption, Petyr_Is_Taking_In_Strays,
      Psychological_Trauma, Sorry_Not_Sorry, Stockholm_Syndrome, James_Bond
      References, Weapon_Training, Nightclub, Baelish's_Prostitutes, Burlesque,
      Not_Tagging_Some_Things_So_The_Ending_Is_A_Secret, Poison, Song_Lyrics,
      ...A_Lot_Of_Them, Dark_Sansa, Sarcasm, Sexual_Content, Older_Man/Younger
      Woman, Past_Rape/Non-con, Cooking, Brave_Sansa, Cover_Art
  Series:
      Part 1 of Never_Stop_Choosing_Me
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-20 Completed: 2017-02-12 Chapters: 40/40 Words: 124488
****** Broken Chains ******
by Black_Lotus
Summary
     Petyr pulled her closer into the moonlight to gain a better look at
     the nude and petrified form before him, but found something fighting
     him, something stronger than her desperate struggles. Petyr's mouth
     fell open, his green-grey eyes widened to the horror of what fought
     him. She was chained.
     Updated Weekly!
     WARNING for Rape and Torture (The rape is all pre-fic)
Notes
     I'm putting the first chapter of this up to see how people will react
     to it. Please comment because I really want to know what you guys
     think.
     English is not my first language so please excuse any odd or silly
     errors.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Some Wishes Should Cry *****
                                                                                                
    
The night was cold and rain had set in hours ago, dark and heavy drops that
crashed against the floor to ceiling windows leaving a deep pounding noise to
echo around the large office of Petyr Baelish, turning it into a bottomless
dank cavern. He was high up on the top floor of Lion and Stag Enterprises just
like all the other business executives, to be on the fifty-first floor was a
sign of power; power that so few at Lion and Stag Enterprises ever got to see.
When the lions and stags had merged, so long ago now, Petyr knew he'd be able
to control not only the Lannisters but the Baratheons too; he had a talent for
subtle manipulation.
Petyr stared out at the rain, for some reason he found the noise comforting,
almost like a child found covering its self with blanket comforting. Heavy rain
fell from the heavens sending everything dark but he could still see the
harbour in the far off distance as waves crashed against the shore. His desk
was in perfect order, papers stacked in an orderly pile, pens sat in their gold
lined black pot; he'd always been neat. Orderliness was one of his virtues,
possibly to a fault. To just about anyone it would look like any normal office
of a CFO but Petyr knew the truth, it wasn't like just  any Chief Financial
Officer's desk, he knew about the Ruger in his third draw down and the blade
beside it. Behind him the television played the days news and Petyr listened
absent-mindedly  while sipping his whiskey from a cut crystal tumbler, that
was, of course, until the name Joffrey Baratheon  was mentioned. Petyr didn't
turn but his attention was captured.
 
“Tonight sees twenty year old Joffrey Baratheon arrested here at The Bear, a
local club run by Jorah Mormont. The young man is the Vice President of Lion
and Stag Enterprises, a family corporation that is the result of the merger of
Tywin Lannister's and Robert Baratheon's companies almost a decade ago. Mister
Baratheon the younger was arrested tonight for drug possession and that of an
unlicensed firearm. No charges have yet been announced however-”
 
Petyr didn't need to hear more, he knew what was coming next and so he stood
there gazing out into the night sipping at his whiskey, just waiting. Baelish
was smarter than most, he knew Cersei would soon be calling him and demanding
he protect her darling boy from anything more. Sure enough he only had to wait
a few seconds before his cellphone started to ring, Petyr sighed  off to work
then. In one smooth motion Petyr pulled the small cellphone from his grey suit
pocket and hit the answer button while bringing it up to his ear.
 “Yes, Cersei?”
 “They arrested my son, Baelish. I want you to-” Petyr cut her angered voice
off with his calm one.
 “And you want me to hide every bit of evidence from that little brat pad of
his before the police search it and find anything more.” Petyr took another sip
of his amber whiskey.
 “That plaque on your office door may say CFO but you should remember your real
profession, the one that makes you useful. Do it!” With that Cersei hung up
leaving silence behind her.
Cersei Lannister was right, his office door did say CFO but Petyr Baelish was
much more than that. He had another title that no one knew of, Cleaner. He'd
made a career of cleaning up the blood, semen and all the other evidence for
the Lannisters and Baratheons, he wasn't just  good at it he excelled. His
occupation as CFO was more of a side job, a way of making his payments
legitimate... and of course Petyr had positioned himself in such a way that the
company would die without him. He needed to get to and clean up after Joffrey
though, no good would come of his charges getting worse... not yet anyway.
                                      XXXX
The dark-haired man drove quickly towards the edge of Kings Landing but made
sure to stay within the speed limit, work quickly but never draw attention,he'd
learnt that early on in life and they were words he lived by, words he knew
protected him. Each of the beyond expensive homes that lined Kings Landing's
coast were lit up, shining in the night like palaces for all the Lords and
Ladies. His own home was one of the smaller ones on the coast and hidden away
in the hills looking almost as if it wasn't there. His own slice of isolation,
not that he spent much time there; if Petyr wasn't cleaning up for others he
was sitting in one of his three offices going over paperwork.
Leaving his car some distance away Petyr made his way to Joffrey Baratheon's
house,  his bag of tricks hanging at his side. Baratheon had one of, if not
the, most hideous and overly ostentatious mansions in Westeros. The so-called
home had two floors the exterior of which was L shaped and painted in an off
putting dark grey with sporadic voids that looked like windows.  It looks like
the brat designed it himself,  thought Baelish with a sigh,  no Joffrey has no
vision what so ever and couldn't be bothered.  A gargantuan lit pool took up
most of the back yard and seemed as though Joffrey was overcompensating  for
something. Stepping inside it got even worse. Everything was filthy, in the
centre of Joffrey's living room was a large navy couch covered in fresh beer
stains, immediately opposite stood a white painted coffee table that looked as
though it had been flipped on more than one occasion. The table was a sea of
empty and crushed beer cans with an ashtray containing countless cigarette and
joint butts as the cans only punctuation. The maid must hate him with a
passion, all this work on a daily basis. Poor woman, Petyr certainly didn't
envy her.
In seconds Baelish had silenced his mind and pulled open his  duffel bag, he
slipped on his black latex gloves and set to work. The beer cans and the random
bags of drugs that lay about were thrown into a garbage bag never to be seen
again. There was far too many drug bags for just personal use, but Joffrey had
no need for the money he could make, which, most assuredly, meant he sold it
just because he could; because his ego got some kind of sick power boost.
Pathetic brat! Thought the dark-haired Cleaner. His hands never stopped moving,
far too busy hiding the evidence to still his hands. There was a reason that he
was indispensable to the Lannisters; Petyr Baelish was unmatched when it came
to his profession.
There was a hideous gold ceramic ashtray smothered in fresh grey ash that found
itself smashing into the bag along with everything else and soon he found a
matching one in the kitchen. Even morons would have been disappointed when he
came across the supposedly hidden armoury, the bookshelf latch was one of the
easiest secret rooms he'd ever found; the door latch was probably the only book
the great Joffrey Baratheon had ever touched. The whole shelf was covered in
dust, the incestuous infant probably refused to let any maid near it.
“Should have let her clean it.” Petyr mused aloud. “Makes it so easy to see
this book is the only one ever moved.”
The so-called hidden door, yeah hidden like a twelve year old girl hides  a
crush, swung open revealing a gold mine of weapons, throwing stars, a Katana
and three overly decorative Samurai swords hung on the walls old blood dried
and coating the blades. Seemed that Joffrey had the beginnings of his own
torture chamber, Petyr sneered, the brat knew nothing. The blades, guns and
fire pokers went into the garbage bags easily before Baelish set about
disinfecting all in sight. Petyr worked quickly and in silence, no idea of how
long he'd have to dispose of the evidence before the police showed up to search
Joffrey's home. Thankfully Joffrey seemed to have kept his blood lust mainly to
that one secret room, it was the mass of drugs that would take the longest to
deal with. Normally his job was just that  a job nothing more but this one was
more like a never ending chore.  Grin and bare it, Petyr.
Time passed and Joffrey's bedroom was all that remained, knowing he was running
out of time Petyr simply got on with it and entered the blondes bedroom. There
he froze, but only for a moment.
“Fantastic.” He sighed.
Before him pinned to the bed by crossbow bolts was a young and reasonably
pretty girl, dead. Her hair was horribly dyed bright red and Petyr was almost
certain she was a prostitute.  Figures, no one would want Joffrey just for him.
Money seems a pretty good reason.
“It at least explains the crossbow dumped downstairs.” He muttered to himself
as he set to work.
Seeing the corpse Petyr realised he'd have been called to the outlandish home
at some point that night no matter what. From his bag of tricks came a large
sheet of transparent plastic that he set neatly on the dark hardwood flooring,
barely a heartbeat later the girls body was dropped onto it with a thud. Blood
stained the plastic and her dead skin. The neon green bolts were thrown into
the bag each one clinking against the one before it, a twisted lullaby for the
dead. He wrapped the thick sheet around her and tied it off, sealing her into
the plastic coffin. Joffrey's bedsheets were next to go, they were wet with
blood and the stench of iron filled the room; it was almost unbearable and so
Petyr pushed open the large window letting the cold night air inside. He'd
smelt more than enough blood for one lifetime.
The linen closet was easily found and the bed remade in pale orange sheets that
actually gave the room some much needed color. Petyr functioned on auto pilot
as he moved the body through the nigh and into his car trunk, returning to
depose of the utterly barbaric porn stashed in Joffrey's night stand, it went
far beyond BDSM, this was revolting; rape, abuse, sadistic pain that served no
purpose than to make a woman cry.  It was discarded in his bag with a sneer of
disgust.
“I'm burning this.” Petyr decided firmly.
Baelish went over the house again, a quick once over just to be sure everything
had been taken care of. Petyr took pride in his work and always made sure to
double check. Everything was in order, not a single thing remained that could
bring new charges to the insufferable child. Entering the bedroom once more he
was pleased to discover the scent of blood had been banished from the large and
dark room. The man took a single step towards the window and found a squeaky
floorboard but that was not what stopped him in his tracks. What froze him to
the spot was the sound of movement, almost as though something had curled up
onto a ball. Petyr knew no one could have gotten past him into the house,
could someone really have been quiet enough to remain concealed from me this
whole time?  Petyr took his trusty lock knife from his pocket and clicked it
open expecting a terrified prostitute or a pissed off drinking buddy of
Joffrey's, he stood there waiting for them to make their move but nothing
happened and Petyr started to wonder if he'd really heard anything at all. He
pushed the Italian leather of his shoes down on the floorboard once more making
it creak and echo around the room, a mew of fear was released.
Green-grey eyes darted down to the dark space under the bed, without blinking
Baelish crouched down and poked his head under the bed. A witness, a loose end.
Anger filled his body. Under the bed there was little light but he could see
the figure. Petyr pushed the sheets up on the bed out of the way. Thankful for
the extra light now the sheet was out of the way. His eyes widened at the now
clear person, the cause of the noise was a girl, or at least what looked like a
girl. Kill the girl! His mind ordered. She had her eyes clenched shut and was
shivering on the ice like floor. She knows what I've done. The girl must die!
No loose ends, that was how he worked, why he was so successful. Petyr asked
himself how he'd missed the her. How? Baelish now had to eliminate the
obstacle in his way before she could reveal his after hours job to the world.
He reached into the darkness under the wooden frame and towards the girl. She
began screaming at the top of her lungs and he was suddenly thankful that they
were far away from anyone else. Petyr practically had to clamber under the bed
in order to pull her out, dropping his blade to the floor as he did, she clawed
at the floor, unsuccessfully almost denting the wood in desperation. The female
obstacle tried to pull away back under the bed but Petyr proved far too strong
for the struggling girl. With one arm he held her in place, while the other
retrieved his trusty lock knife as he did he saw the girl clearly for the first
time. His mind faulted for a moment and before he knew it the blade dropped,
letting it make a metallic clang when it hit the floor. All anger in him at
that moment lost the battle to shock, he saw what he had originally been
oblivious to. The girl was naked and covered in a thick layer of dirt. Petyr
pulled her closer into the moonlight to gain a better look at the nude and
petrified form before him, but found something fighting him, something stronger
than her desperate struggles. Petyr's mouth fell open, his green-grey eyes
widened to the horror of what fought him. She was chained to the bedpost, most
likely why the bed was strong and solid, older looking than everything else
Joffrey had in his home. Again the girl tried to crawl back underneath the bed,
but still Baelish was too strong. She screamed but it lacked volume, like she
didn't have the energy.
Petyr's stormy orbs followed the silver linked chain up to an old brown leather
collar tight around her neck, her body covered in painful purple-yellow bruises
and small cuts, some so old that they had become scars. The chain would not let
her move far beyond Joffrey's heavy bed. Her hair was long and wild, her lips
cracked and dehydrated. The female's pale hands where caked in grime. She had
clearly been bound to the bed, confined, for a long time, just how long he
could not even imagine, but it was long enough for the collar to scar her dirty
neck, burn it and rub it raw. Petyr loosened his grip, a result of his shock,
he had killed but he was nowhere near capable of such cruelty. Seeing her
single chance for escape she ripped herself out of his grasp and launched for
the darkness, her little haven. His mind returned allowing him to grab the
girl's thigh and pulled her back to him. Another traumatic squeal that burned
his ears.
“Stop!” He shouted and instantly regretted it.
Her whole body tensed solid with fear. Silence rang out, all movement ceased.
Petyr didn't mean to shout, however he was glad she had stilled. He had to kill
her, she'd seen him, she knew, she saw. It would be kinder to kill her, she had
been abused, she was scared, he had to do it. Baelish tried to convince himself
it was right but she was not his victim. She was desperate to get back to her
small place of safety. He gripped her shoulders and turned her, then it
happened. A brief moment of eye contact, her azure eyes, the only glimmer of
colour in the otherwise black room. Her orbs where filled with fear and tears,
normally he found fear in peoples eyes to be amusing, but he couldn't enjoy
this, she was in pain. At that moment his ability to kill was gone, the
Cleaner's decision was made for him. Petyr could not harm her even if he wanted
to. She looked to be around fifteen years old, a child. No anger remained in
the Cleaner's body, all he felt for the child was...was there even a word for
it? Maybe not.
“Who are you?” He asked as gently as he could, remembering his previous
yelling.
The sound of his voice panicked the blue eyed one, her screaming had long since
stopped but her tense struggles had not. She continued to reach, claw, towards
what she viewed as safety. At a loss at how to steady the girl without shouting
again he pulled her head to his chest and stroked her unwashed black hair
soothingly. It was all he could think of, as a charismatic man he could easily
comfort a woman via speech but when it came to a naked and traumatized child he
had no idea what to do.
“It's alright.” He told the girl. “I won't hurt you.”
He knew she didn't believe him, the only reason she'd remained still so long
was probably because she'd grown used to doing as she was told. Tragic. He
couldn't kill her, not after seeing those orbs but he couldn't let her go free,
the Lannisters would find her. Then an idea came to his talented head, one that
might just work. Looking down to the chain he lifted it into his large hand and
quickly started to wrap it around her neck, of course the girl surged with
panic, raging through her body.
“Be still.”
And that was just what the girl did, her body turned to stone; obeying. How
could anyone treat a girl this way?
“You wont understand but I need you to play dead. Can you do that?”
Surprisingly she did as he asked and rather quickly too. Maybe she was prepared
to die? Now that the panic was fading out she could see it again, see that
death was something she wanted. If it wasn't for her heartbeat Petyr himself
would have assumed she was dead. Was this girl so close to death in mind that
her body followed so easily? Or was it that she feared disobeying? Before his
mind completely left him Petyr pulled his phone from his pocket and took a
photograph of her, one was all he needed.
“That's it, I'm done.” He told her in a soft voice.
Her skin was so very pale, so cold and bruised. Baelish pulled off his dark
suit jacket and wrapped it around her thin and fragile form, it would do little
to help her since she was chilled to the marrow of her bones. The brunette
girl's azure orbs locked on his blade when he took it in hand once more and
followed it as the blade came up to the old leather, they widened in shock as
the leather gave way and was sliced from her throat. Once it was gone she just
stared at the chained collar on the floor, the Albatross gone from her neck.
Petyr could safely guess she'd never expected to see that day, with her still
in his lap terrified to move he reached into his bag that had been discarded
beside them and pulled free his lock picks in their little black leather pouch.
In seconds he had the padlock off the bed leg and began gathering the
disgusting object up, sliced leather collar and all tossing it into his bag
with everything else. Of everything Baelish had expected from Joffrey's house,
a traumatized teenage girl chained to his bed was not on the list, it wasn't
often that he was surprised; and this wasn't a pleasant surprise.
“You won't believe me, but I willprotect you.”
How had this girl made him care with nothing more than a second of eye contact,
he wasn't an easily swayed man and yet his ability to kill her was gone. There
was something so familiar in those ocean deep eyes and he was determined to
figure out why.
A hand reached out to cup her ice like cheek but it never got there, Petyr
halted in his movements when he heard a car stop outside. The police, it has to
be. No one else would come here.As far as he knew anyway. The window.Petyr
thought, he'd clocked it as a quick and easy escape the second the house had
come into view; he was always prepared for the unexpected and refused to be
blocked by the police. Yet now he had to carry a fragile young woman suffering
from trauma, there was no time to think about it, the front door had opened and
shut already. Fuck it!He thought quickly before picking the girl up and
throwing her over his shoulder and grabbing his duffel bag. The brunette didn't
scream, not this time and Petyr was thankful for that.
In seconds he was out of the window and on the garage roof, somehow he managed
to land almost completely silently. Nothing but a leaf landing. Petyr's feet
took him to the edge of Joffrey's  garage roof quickly and without fuss, he
chucked his bag down and looked at the distance. The drop would have been
easily manageable had he not been carrying his new blue eyed mystery, however,
she was with him and he had no idea but to just jump. Petyr landed with a heavy
thud, his legs buckled and his knees planted against the soft green grass.
“Shit!”
 Petyr tried to quiet the spark of pain that shot up his legs before he stood,
thankfully he was obliged. Rising back to his full height and grabbing his bag
Petyr vanished into the night, no one knew he was there save for Cersei and
she'd tell no one since it benefited her darling little Bastard.
But what to do about the naked girl in his arms?
***** A Phoenix Rises From The Ashes *****
 Neither Petyr nor the young woman clinging to his black suit jacket like a
lifeline spoke as he drove the short distance to his home, beyond screaming he
didn't even know if she could speak. He couldn't see a scar along her neck so
Petyr assumed Joffrey hadn't damaged her her vocal cords beyond repair,  doubt
he would have thought to even do that. It was more than likely the trauma
keeping her silent. Would she ever speak again?
H  e turned into his garage and let the door fall shut, Petyr sat there for a
while looking at her through the rear view mirror. Her eyes were lowered and if
the girl could have curled up into a smaller ball she would have,    terror
vibrated through her thin frame causing goosebumps to coat her skin. Everything
in Baelish told him to kill her but after seeing those eyes it wasn't possible,
he was stuck with    her. Eventually Petyr grew tired of just looking at her
and   so  opened the car door and stepped out   into the quiet white painted
garage, the night air had crept in cooling the room and filling it with a
pleasant scent that was utterly indescribable.    Petyr knew    the Sweetling
in his back seat wouldn't move once he left her alone in the car, a deer caught
in headlights.
 The car trunk clicked open and Joffrey's bags of crap were hauled out, there
were eight in total all filled to the brim with stuff that Petyr thought
belonged in landfills rather than a home. Howver, it belonged to the little
incestuous brat and he could do without Cersei and Joffrey complaining so into
the hidey-hole it would go. Over in the corner stood four dark blue plastic
crates, to the untrained eyes they were just a stack of storage boxes, however
Petyr knew the truth. Moving the crates out the way revealed a faint square
outline of a secret hatch, opening it up the dark-haired Cleaner made quick
work of hiding Joffrey's crap, he'd deal with it properly later on; burning
Joffrey Baratheon's porn collection was pretty high up on his list of things to
do after all.
 With a sigh Petyr returned to the car and opened the door to look at the girl,
she hadn't moved, still gripped the suit jacket tightly.  Such a scared little
bunny rabbit, he grinned and reached for her. She shuffled away but  it was
useless, all she did was back herself into a corner and made it easier for him
to lift her into his arms. Her body was tense as he carried her through the
garage door and into his home.
 The mystery girl clamped her eyes shut as he took her through the house up the
stairs and into his bedroom. Petyr could tell she was fearful, what normal girl
wouldn't be? The grime on her skin was so thick that Baelish could feel it
drifting to his own flesh; it was filthy and vile.  Something has to be done
about this.  Having made up his mind the Cleaner turned to his right and
carried the brunette  into his en suit where he set her down on the bamboo
counter beside his basin.   Petyr couldn't help but wonder when she'd last had
a bath, weeks at the very least.   After rolling  up his sleeves   Petyr let
the bath tap run, hot water collecting into a wonderful heated pool,   of
course he noticed the way her beautiful blue orbs flashed down to the hot water
then the floor and back.
“I need to take this so you can have a bath.” He gestured to the black suit
jacket he'd previously shrouded her in. 
 Petyr knew she wouldn't want to let it go, she acted like it was some sort of
safety net. She had no choice though and Petyr easily took the dark fabric from
her and set it aside, she made a quick attempt to cover herself but it was
pointless as he quickly moved her over into the bath, setting her down gently.
 The girls eyes fluttered shut as the heat cuddled around her tiny frame, she'd
never felt anything quite like this. Bath time with Joffrey had consisted of
having a bucket of ice water thrown at her and then being screamed at and told
to clean up the mess she'd made,  or it would be far worse.   One of his
favourite things had been to drag her into his own bathroom and hold her under
the water until the blackness had started to close in, biting at the corners of
her vision. Each and every time she'd thought it would be her last day alive
but that never happened. Joffrey would never show enough mercy to kill her.
 “I'm just going to clean you up, alright?” She didn't answer him and Petyr
didn't force her.
 He soaped up a wash cloth and started to rub it along her back, the water
quickly turned muddy and brown, the layers of filth were so thick that Petyr
started to wonder if she was just made up of old dead fragments of a once happy
little girl. Just dust moulded together. As her body grew clean he discovered
she was actually far more pale that he'd first thought but there were so many
bruises, some had joined together to form one huge blue-purple mark that
covered most of her back. There were little cuts all down her legs too, some
old, some new, one had only just scabbed over while there were a plethora of
others that were now scars.  That sick bastard!  Petyr's mind screamed.
 Baelish watched as she shivered, not from cold but terror, the girl showed no
signs of moving though, far too afraid of the consequences.  How long has
Joffrey been beating this girl down?  He wondered. Blood had dried  down her
arms and he realised it must have been from the prostitute when there were no
marks he could connect the blood too.   The now visible whip marks gave him
pause and Petyr wanted nothing more then to make Joffrey Baratheron hurt in
that moment.   Whip marks. He fucking whipped her? He couldn't think about that
now though, he needed to just take care of her for now.
 “I need to wash your hair, okay?” Petyr offered her a smile but her eyes never
looked up.
 When she didn't complain or try to shift away he started to lather up her
hair, the white lava turned black almost instantly and Petyr sneered at the
texture of her hair. Grease, that was all it felt like. It was disgusting for
him to touch so how had she lived with it like this for so long?    Seeing her
unsullied Petyr realised she was older than he'd first thought, not fifteen.
“Closer to seventeen maybe even eighteen.” He mused aloud. “Not a child at
all.”
The dark-haired man  reached for a jug and filled it with slowly cooling water
then poured it over her head washing away the grime and shampoo. Red.   Flaming
red hair not brown as it had been before, Catelyn suddenly flashed into his
mind. She was the only other he could compare the beautiful head of hair too.
Now is not the time to think of Catelyn,  the memory was too painful and so he
pushed it far away back into the recesses of his mind.
 With his mind back on task the Cleaner pulled the plug and let the thick dirty
water drain away after pulling the girl up and out of the bath. As he dried her
off Petyr was pleased to see her skin far cleaner and though she didn't utter a
single word he could tell she was happier too. Such a little thing had given
his little redhead a new lease of life.
“Come on.”
 Without question she followed Baelish back into his bedroom and waited as he
rooted through his closet in search of something for her to ware, in the end he
found and old navy shirt that was missing the top two buttons; he vaguely
remembered setting it aside for repair but it seemed he'd never gotten that
far.
 “Here, you can put this on.” Petyr set down the shirt on his bed. “I'll get
you something to eat.”
 With that he left the room and headed downstairs. Walking into his kitchen
Petyr took a deep breath, that hair, so red and luxurious now it had been
washed. The girl really could be something beautiful if she smiled and wasn't
bruised from head to toe.   Returning his mind to the task of feeding his
mystery girl,   Petyr was suddenly thankful he'd made Tomato soup the day
before, in only a few moments he had it re-heated and in a smooth black bowl
ready to be eaten. Baelish knew something more substantial would have to wait,
he didn't want to upset her stomach, he guessed that she'd not been fed in
days.   She's so undernourished.
Why did I take her? Why do I feel the need to protect her? It's because of
those damn eyes. They were so blue, so beautiful, so innocent and broken.  You
can't kill someone so innocent can you, Petyr?   The Cleaner questioned
himself. Either way Cersei Lannister had to think she was dead,   the girl had
no chance if the mother lion knew she was still alive.   Baelish brought his
burner cellphone out of his pocket and quickly sent the photograph and a small
message to the lioness.
        It's done. This one had killed herself by the time I got there.
 There was no going back now, Cersei knew he'd done his job and though the
redhead was gone. Knowing he'd done all he could for the evening Petyr picked
up the food tray and carried it up the stairs and back into his bedroom. As
soon as he entered the room Petyr sighed, the shirt lay untouched on his large
bed more importantly though... the girl was gone. Petyr put the tray down and
looked around, he'd have heard her leave the room and when he poked his head
into the bathroom he found it empty.  Where the hell is she? Then it clicked
she was under the bed, sure enough Petyr crouched down and found her curled up
in a ball, still naked. She really did feel like the underside of a bed was her
safe place.
 “Please come out.” He asked softly. “It's alright, you're safe, Sweetling.”
 When she didn't move Petyr repeated himself though the second time round it
had an easy smile to go along with it. She still didn't move, look up or speak.
“Sweetling, if you don't come out I'm going to have pull you out and neither of
us want that.”
 That got a response out of her and she obeyed, shuffling out towards the older
man. The redhead let Petyr guide her to sit on his bed and then he pushed the
tray towards her. Baelish threw the shirt into her lap, he could see she was
cold.
“Put this on.”
Then something he'd never expected happened, she pushed the shirt away. He
raised a single eyebrow and then the second thing he'd not expected happened,
she spoke, well, stuttered.
“Not... allowed... clothes.” She took a shaky breath, her voice was so small.
“Master said.”
 Petyr felt his heart twinge and clench,   something he hadn't felt in such a
long time. Her voice was so small and timid and for some reason it just made
him want to care for her even more.  Why does she have this effect on me?  In
that moment Petyr's heart decided something and refused to let his mind have
any say in the matter. Joffrey Baratheon would   never hurt her again. It was
his silent promise to her.
“He can't make any rules any more, he won't hurt you.” How is she making me
care?“Put your arms up.”
 She quickly obeyed and raised her arms up in the air so as Baelish could slip
the navy shirt over her naked form.   It's a little odd that she did as I asked
so quickly,  he thought but Petyr didn't question it much more than that. The
dark blue was a wonderful contrast against her pale skin and   fiery red heir,
utterly delectable.
“Here, eat while I tidy the bathroom.” Petyr held out a silver spoon and when
she didn't make any move to take it he placed it in her hand. “Eat.”
 With that he walked off leaving her in peace to eat. Petyr sneered when he saw
the ring of grime left on his bathtub, the white claw footed exterior tainted
by the now black interior. As he cleaned Petyr's mind wandered off to thoughts
of the girl in his bedroom, he wondered when the last time she'd left Joffrey's
room was, weeks? Longer? The fluffy white towel he'd dried off her skin with
was stained with blood drops and would never be  white  again. Petyr poked his
head out into the bedroom and was pleased to see her eating, the motion was
slow as if she was unsure but she ate nevertheless.
 Time passed by and Petyr returned his bathroom to its usual pristine state
before going back to the girl, what he saw made him grin ear to ear. She was
curled up in a little ball like a sleeping cat, he couldn't help but think
about how utterly adorable she looked. Not wishing to disturb her Petyr simply
covered her over with his dark green duvet and left the room, switching off the
light and taking the food tray with him.   It was obvious that exhaustion had
forced her to sleep and not any kind of relaxation.
 Discarding the tray Petyr headed down to his office, helping himself to a
glass of Whiskey and slumping down into his black leather armchair and gazing
out the floor to ceiling window into the night. Looking out into the darkness
had always given Petyr a sense of peace, as to why that was he didn't know,
probably never would. Storms comforted him the most.
 As he watched the night Petyr found himself thinking about the redhead's eyes
again, they were full of horror yes but there was such innocence and intellect
in there as well.
“She could play the game if she wasn't so broken.” He mused to himself as he
sipped the last of his amber liquid. “She could certainly climb the ladder of
chaos.”
 With his mind full of her Petyr decided it was time to retire to bed, he
didn't sleep much but the day had been taxing.  I think the guest room would be
best.
“Don't want to go terrifying her any more than I have already.”
 Slumber called out to him and Petyr Baelish could not refuse, not with his
eyelids as heavy as feathers made of lead. Unconsciousness was to be his
Mistress until a new day dawned.
***** The First Draft Is Just You Telling Yourself The Story *****
Chapter Notes
     The chapter title is a quote by Terry Pratchett.
 So many colors lit the morning sky, every shade of blue scattered among rich
purples punctuated by bold red and orange as if by a celestial hand. Twilight
had melted away and the golden sun had filled the sky: a new day had dawned.
Abstract rays of light spilled out over the horizon coating the landscape as
far as the eye could see, calling forth a shimmer from every remaining drop of
rain that remained of the last evenings downpour. The air was clear and fresh
just as it always was after the heavens had opened, delicate light scurried
through the clouds and once again the sky was majestic and powerful. Petyr
cared not for the look of the new day though, he never watched the clouds there
was too much going on down on earth. Clouds didn't hide secrets like people
did.
 With day having reared its head Petyr was awake, he'd never been one for
sleeping in; always had far too much to do, to plot. Waking up in his guest
room had given him pause along with a few seconds of  why in fuck am I in here?
Though that had soon passed when memories of   the previous evening had
returned to him. The girl. The blood. Joffrey's arrest. All of it came back and
Petyr quickly decided he wasn't thinking about it until at least his second cup
of coffee.
 Eventually that second cup of coffee came and went leaving Baelish with his
thoughts of the redhead. What was he going to do with her? Keep her? Leave her
outside a hospital? A church? Petyr had always been    quick to think up a plan
but when it came to that girl his mind failed him, no plot came to him. She
slowed his brain to a stand still.
 He slipped two slices of buttered brown toast onto a coal-black plate and then
set it on a breakfast tray along with a cool glass of orange juice. Petyr
carried it upstairs in silence and softly opened the door to his bedroom... but
she wasn't there.
“Sweetling?” He called out as he set the tray down.
There was no response and he instantly realised where she would be.   Crouching
down Petyr found her    in a ball beneath the bed. The redhead was a light
sleeper, had to be, she'd been awake since the moment he'd opened the door but
her body refused to move. With a soft smile Petyr spoke.
 “It's time to come out and eat, Sweetling.” She didn't move. “Come on out, or
your toast will get cold and your orange juice will get warm.” He held out a
hand.
 Reluctantly she took the offered hand but kept her eyes down cautiously. She
let him guide her to sit comfortably on his bed and began eating at his
request. Toast crunched in her mouth and she couldn't remember the last time
she'd been fed so well, Petyr was so good to her.
 Happy to see her eat the dark-haired man walked off to his closet and started
to pull out fresh clothes; white shirt, red boxers, black pants and a matching
suit jacket. Laying everything down on his dresser Petyr started to unbutton
the shirt he'd slept in. The crunching of toast quickly grounded to a halt and
the Cleaner looked up, her dazzling blue eyes were locked on his chest in fear;
her whole body rigid. At first Petyr thought it was the long scar running down
his torso but it wasn't that she was looking at and then it clicked.
 “No, Sweetling. I'm just going to take a shower. I have no intention of
touching you.”
Petyr grabbed his clothes and discarded his old shirt and boxers in his wicker
hamper before walking towards his bathroom.
“Finish eating, Sweetling. Once you're done you can do as you please, just
don't leave the room.”
The door shut behind him and the sound of running water slipped through the
walls. Peryr had no thoughts as he cleansed his skin, never did, water washed
everything away including his thoughts and troubles. The sensation of steamy
hot water calmed him, closing his eyes Petyr just let the cascade soak into his
skin and put him at ease. Water was pure and washed away his sins. Soon enough
his peace came to an end and Petyr knew it was time to step out when his skin
started to wrinkle. His skin towel dried easily leaving it clean and warm. He
couldn't stay there forever and so once dressed Petyr followed his feet back
into his bedroom. The redhead was stood gazing out the window at the ocean,
that wasn't what caught his attention though, her nakedness had.
“What are you doing?” He asked quickly with a raised eyebrow and the girl
jumped.
“Master said...” Did she just speak again?“... that... pet could do as she
pleased... as... long as... pet didn't leave.” Her voice was timid and panicked
as she stuttered. “Pet will be good. Sorry Master, sorry.”
 While he was pleased she'd    finally spoken Petyr still wanted to know   the
reason for her nakedness. In the daylight he could see  just how dark and
painful her bruises were,  they yellowed around the edge  and stretched up her
body covering almost every inch of her otherwise  porcelain skin.
“Why did you take your shirt off?” Petyr tried to ask softly, eyes locked on
the neatly folded shirt resting on his bed.
“Master... has such... nice things.” Why is she calling me 'Master'?“Pet
doesn't want to... ruin it with her blood.”
 Petyr  furrowed his brow at that,  blood? That twinge in his heart started up
again  and whatever it was making him want to protect her forced his body to
move forwards, hands pressing to her shoulders to look for a wound.
“What blood? You're wounds should have scabbed over by now.” Looking down Petyr
found crimson dripping down between her milky thighs. “Oh.”
 After cleaning the redhead up and what was the most awkward and quickest store
visit of his life, Petyr had her dressed in another of his old shirts, this
time an emerald green one,   and had taken the  little bird  down to his living
room.
“Sit down, Sweetling.”
In an instant the redhead dropped to her knees,   hitting the hardwood with a
thud. Petyr's eyes dropped down as well and an eyebrow raised in silent
question.
“That's not what I meant-”
“Sorry Master. Pet is sorry.” Apologies fell from her lips in a single fearful
burst.
Her eyes remained downcast as though she were not worthy to gaze upon him.
Petyr pulled her up to sit on the couch and then dropped down beside her, he
lowered his head in an attempt to catch her azure eyes but it was pointless,
they remained locked on the floor.
“Now.” The Cleaner began while running a hand through his perfectly groomed
hair. “What's your name, Sweetling?”
After a time she began slowly.
“New Master... can call Pet what he likes. Pet. Bitch. Slut. Whore.” Each
suggestion more agonising to hear than the last.
“Those aren't names, Sweetling. What's your name?” He asked again.
The girl didn't answer him and Petyr found himself just looking at her, there
was something so familiar about her, she looks just like Cat. Fiery red hair,
pale skin and bottomless cerulean eyes. That was when it clicked, the
proverbial penny dropped letting the noise echo around the room like a bomb had
gone off. Cat! She looks like Cat.Which could only mean one thing. Sansa! She's
Sansa.How had he not seen it sooner? The Lannisters had been the ones to kill
the Starks all that time ago, she was Sansa, it made sense.
“Are you Sansa?” The question came out more nervously than he'd intended and
quieter too.
“No! No! No Master! Don't deserve name!”
She became frantic and her blue orbs filled with horror,  that confirmed it for
him, she  was  Sansa. Before Petyr knew   it  his arms had moved they'd slipped
around her thin form and pulled her to him, her body grew  stiff .  If she
hadn't already forgotten how to cry she would have.
“Oh Sansa, you deserve a name. You have one, you've always had one. It's Sansa
Stark.”
Petyr spoke through gritted teeth, hearing Cat's daughter talk of herself as
though she were nothing angered his soul and let his green-grey eyes grow
stormy.
“As Master wishes.” She sniffled, still unsure as to whether she was allowed to
speak or not.
“You don't have to call me that, Sweetling.” He assured, arms still round her
tense frame.
“Master owns Pet.” She said simply.
“You're Sansa, not  Pet.  I don't own you, but I will take care of you.”
Baelish sighed. “It's the least I can do for Cat.”
 Time passed and Petyr just clung to her, a Stark remained, a piece of Cat
lived on. Suddenly the reason he'd wanted to care for and protect her was
clear. Sansa had grown into quite the beautiful young woman despite Joffrey's
torture and Petyr was determined to make those eyes shine again.   For Catelyn.
Birds sang outside from their  nests high up in the  trees, the only noise
beyond the man and woman’s breaths. Her skin was cold but his heat easily
drifted through his perfectly tailored suit and  past   her pores, warming her.
It had been a very long time since someone had last held Sansa with care, most
of her life had been filled with pain. Sansa remembered so much of her
childhood and yet somehow nothing at all. What her Mother and Father looked
like had left her memory,   just a blur now  , Sansa knew she resembled her
Mother but that was it. The faces of her siblings had almost faded as well,
Sansa couldn't even remember her youngest brother's name,    Rikard? Rikter? It
was something like that and each day that Sansa couldn't remember was more
painful than the last.    Robb and Jon were the only ones she remembered with
any clarity, she could see Robb's hazel eyes glazed over, Jon's dark hair
dripping with warm blood. In truth all Sansa Stark could remember of her
siblings was their deaths.
Sansa's mind snapped back when he started speaking again, she knew a great deal
of time had gone by with the two of them in utter silence but that looked like
it was over. His voice was deep and dominant but not cruel like her old
Master's had been, there was no malice hidden in his tone.
“I told the company I would work from home today so I could take care of you,
but I do have some things to do. I'll be in the house so if you need me just
call alright?” Sansa didn't look up, didn't speak. “I won't be gone too long.
You can go anywhere in the house but please don't leave, you'll get hurt or
lost.” Without another word Petyr left the room.
There was much for him to think about and he still wasn't certain how he felt
about her calling him Master.Petyr wasn't going to lie, the word
Masterdefinitely fed his ego and forced a smug smile onto his face but she was
Cat's daughter and had been abused her whole life.
It took him a while but soon enough Petyr had Joffrey's guns and blades stored
neatly in his secret lock box out in the garage, the porn magazines that were
abuse for abuses sake would never be seen again; they were just ash and dust
now. The Cleaner seriously doubted Joffrey would ask for it back, and even if
he did Petyr would just say Sansa tore it all up before her death. The dead
prostitute he'd not been expecting but it wasn't the first time he'd had to
dispose of body,  never use lime Petyr thought, it had been the first lesson
he'd learnt. Most people didn't realise it actually preserved a body.
“So what to do with a dead body?” He mused to himself sarcastically. “They're
born, they live and then they're murdered. Then what? Goodwill's not accepting
bodies any more and it's too big to fit down the garbage disposal.” Petyr
grinned in amusement.
His boat was the next place for the  young   prostitute, in the basement Petyr
had made quick work of turning her into a jigsaw puzzle    and later on when
Sansa was asleep and safe under the cover of darkness; Petyr would make sure no
one ever found the body. The Cleaner certainly loved sharks, they were so
helpful and the waters of Kings Landing had sharks   in abundance. Those he
disposed of were never found.
The afternoon was in full bloom and Petyr had everything in place to finish his
work as Cleaner, however, his work as Lion and Stag's CFO still waited. Petyr
had been gone a while though and found himself worried that Sansa would grow
lonely, he looked through the house once he found she'd moved from the living
room. He'd expected to find her unmoved from his black leather couch yet she
was nowhere to be found. Baelish opened his mouth to call out to her but shut
it again quickly, don't want her thinking I'm angry she's moved. The library
was where he found her. His library was hidden at the back of his house behind
a large round arch doors the color of sandalwood with little glass panels.
Beyond those doors was a hexagonal chamber with every single wall lined with
cherry wood bookshelves, Petyr had worked hard on his literary collection a
love he'd picked up from his Mother; not that he'd known much of her. There was
a small catwalk that went around the whole room, up there were only one or two
bookshelves punctuated by small circular windows that let in almost angelic
rays of light. In the very centre of the little sanctuary stood a sleek black
piano; the room truly was beautiful.
Sat on the floor with her back to him was Sansa, she looked so small curled up
looking at the book titles. Her hair hung around her face like a cloak of fire
and contrasted the navy shirt she wore wonderfully.
“You can read them if you like.” Said Petyr leaning against the doorway.
Sansa jumped back and turned but her eyes were downcast as usual, she looked
like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Can't Master.” Sansa's voice was so small that Petyr strained to hear her.
He sighed. Thinking about it Sansa's family had been murdered when she was
eight, that was ten years ago now and Petyr knew she'd not been let near a book
that wasn't one of Joffrey's porn magazines since that day. What she'd learnt
of reading and writing was probably long gone. His heart clenched again, she
was the only person to make him care for someone other than himself in a very
long time. Petyr wanted nothing more than to make Joffrey Baratheon hurt, that
will have to wait.In silence he walked over to a dark set of draws and took out
a yellow legal pad and a sleek silver pen before sitting himself beside her on
the dark floor.
“You can't write either can you?” He asked softly and Sansa shook her head.
“I'll teach you. Would you like that, Sweetling?”
“Master should not... waste his time or... kindness on Pet.” She mumbled.
“You're Sansa, not Pet.” He said softly and Sansa instantly corrected herself.
“Master should not waste his time or kindness on... Sansa.”
Close enough. I guess it's progress.  He hated seeing her like that, broken and
beaten. Petyr knew she could be so much more,   she could have everything.
Petyr would   do anything to get what  he  wanted and what  he  wanted  now was
for Sansa to be whole again.   He knew she had that strength deep inside her,
underneath all the broken glass   and dry crimson blood; Sansa was powerful.
“Sansa you are so much more than the Lannisters have lead you to believe.” She
could hear the truth in his voice. “Now, do you want to learn?” The redhead
nodded. “What do you remember?”
“Not much, Master.” She began cautiously, voice still tiny. “Sansa remembers...
letters, Master.
“Inot Sansa or Pet. You're not a thing, you're a person.”
“I,Master.”
“Better. Now let us start simply.”
 Petyr clicked the pen on    and quickly scribbled down the alphabet, he was
pleased she'd opened up to him, he'd never expected her to be quite so
talkative but it showed just how strong she was. Once all twenty-six letters
coated the page Petyr wrote down a single word in capital letters and handed
the pad and pen to the girl.
“Here copy this.”
 Sansa obeyed and started to recreate the letters on the page, she held the pen
like an eight year old and Petyr couldn't help but smile at the concentration
on her face.   Sansa is still in there, she's still a person deep down.   It
didn't take her very long for her to finish and the way she presented him with
the pad was as if Sansa had forgotten she'd been held captive for ten years.
Petyr loved the strength inside her.
“Do you know what you just wrote?” Petyr asked softly.
“No, Master.”
He looked down to the yellow lined page before back to to the redhead.
                                        
                                     SANSA
                                        
 “That's your name, Sweetling. It says 'Sansa'. Well done.”
 Sansa had never been praised before, then again even if she had Sansa wouldn't
have remembered it.
“Thank you, Master.” She said quietly, her place remembered.
“We'll try Stark next, then my name.”
 All Petyr's dominance and egotistic authority   faded away when it came to the
eldest Stark girl. It had only been a few hours since he brought her to his
home yet she'd already started speaking to him  in sentences  and was learning
to use  I   and   Sansa   rather than Pet. Petyr guessed the latter was more
out of fear of the consequences than anything else.   There's still a long way
for her to come, but she's already started her journey.
***** The Best Gifts Come From The Heart *****
Two weeks had passed since taking the Stark girl into his home, the prostitutes
body was safely in the belly of several sharks and Cersei truly believed that
Sansa was with those sharks as well. The lioness was more concerned with
protecting her beloved little boy and getting him off drug and weapon charges
than some little redhead anyway.  The press was having a field day with
Joffrey's arrest and the law wanted to throw the book at him to make an
example, regardless Tywin Lannister wouldn't let that happen, little brat or
not Tywin wouldn't let his family name be tarnished.
Re-teaching Sansa how to read and write  had proved to be far easier than he'd
first believed, but Petyr had been pleased to be proven wrong;  Sansa was
smart. She'd come so far in just a few days and the Cleaner found himself
proud, his newly required redhead wasn't going to write a novel any time soon
but there was no denying her intellect or progress.
It was around ten o'clock in the morning when Petyr walked into  his rich blue
living room trimmed with black and found the girl sat cross-legged on his dark
couch. Sansa had donned  another one of Petyr's never worn shirts, this time a
pale pink one that had been a present from Lysa. Pink certainly wasn't his
color.  Sansa however, looked beautiful in it.  She was scribbling on the
yellow legal pad he'd given her, as always; Sansa had made it her mission in
life to practice the letters  Petyr had shown her. It was probably out of fear
for the consequences but still.
Baelish looked over her shoulder as he entered the room and found her doodling
on the bottom of the page, it took him a second but he soon realised it was a
poppy.  How does she know what they look like though? Petyr looked up and out
the patio doors and out into his yard,  there on the far right was a line of
deep red poppies. Petyr couldn't help but smile.
“That's beautiful.” He told her honestly.
Sansa all but jumped from her skin upon hearing his voice, her eyes burst wide
though they remained downcast.  Her body trembled as if expecting to be
punished but he could see her trying to hide it.
“Sorry Master.” She began hastily. “Sansa should obey. Sorry Master. Sorry.”
“You've nothing to be sorry for and you're not a slave, Sansa.” He absent-
mindedly ran a hand through her hair and felt her tense, she really had never
been touched with such kindness. “I need to go out for a while, Sweetling. You
stay here, I'll be back in a few hours. I'm sure you'll be alright until I
return.”
“As Master wishes.” She mumbled.
 Petyr rounded the couch and took his wallet from the glass coffee table before
throwing her a smile and speaking once more.
“Here.” He said handing her one of his several burner phones, Sansa hesitantly
took it. “Don't go outside, Sweetling. That is a rule.”
The dark-haired man proceeded to teach his redhead how to use the phone with
simple instructions that she seemed to lock away in her memory quickly.
“Now you know how to call me, but only do it if it's important. Only I know
this number so if it rings answer it. I doubt anyone will come here but do not
answer the door.”
Petyr was pleased when she nodded in understanding, he leaned down and pressed
a kiss to her pale forehead. It was small and only for a millisecond but  Petyr
certainly noticed the little tug at her lips, so small and yet it made him so
happy.
 “Goodbye Master.” Sansa muttered.
 “Bye, Sweetling.”
Leaving the house Petyr questioned himself on why he kissed her forehead,
something in him just wanted to care for her. It went way beyond  doing it for
Catelyn, Sansa did something to him, made him care. Petyr was on auto pilot as
he drove to the grocery store,  two weeks he'd spent in his house with Sansa,
two weeks was probably the longest he'd spent there in one stretch. He was
running out of decent meals to cook and that was something Petyr would not
stand for; a store trip was definitely needed.
As he wandered Petyr found himself picking up things he thought she'd like, did
she like Strawberries? Chocolate? Ice cream? Did she prefer meat or fish?
Baelish was determined to discover the answers. Once everything was done and
paid for Petyr went to  The Mockingbird his beloved brothel, the public would
never know of his side business and sometimes Petyr himself couldn't remember
how many pies he had his fingers in. The brothel was hidden out of the way  but
everyone knew of it, The Mockingbird the den of iniquity everyone either loved
or despised and Petyr was proud the amount of information he got from his
whores.
Stepping through the large Gothic door Petyr was greeted by  two of his
bartenders preparing for the evening, Petyr's brothel was just that but he'd
worked it in such a way that the police knew exactly what it was could do
nothing about it.
“Good morning Boss.”
Greeted one woman with long blonde hair held up in pink tails and a Catholic
school girl outfit that would make a priest blush.
“It's afternoon now, Briony. But still hello.” Petyr shot the beauty a grin. “
To you as well Azah.”
The other bartender looked up from wiping the bar down, her hair was pinned up
in a messy bun that  let long dark tresses hang loose around her face. Azah had
smooth mocha skin and a tight orange dress that clung to her body in all the
right places,  she was one of the more stunning girls in his employ.
“Has anyone called in sick or made up some pathetic reason they can't come in?”
Petyr asked accepting a glass of whiskey from Briony.
“No Boss. Katrina said she's going to be late though.”  Azah told him.
“Katrina is always late. If she wasn't so good at her job I'd have gotten rid
of her years ago.”
Petyr tipped the glass back and finished the amber liquid off before setting
the crystal down on the bar and heading off towards his office, a door marked
simply as  Owner. A small word that held so much power. Stepping inside Petyr
found his desk untouched since last he'd been there, as the door shut he let
his alter ego take over, his brothel was not  the domain of Petyr Baelish; it
was that of Littlefinger. Sitting at his desk the dark-haired man looked over
his rota for the evening. Just a list of names Ros had jotted down for him,
more and more he was letting her handle things.
                                        
                               FEMALE       MALE
                             Armeca        Olyvar
                              Daisy         Reiji
                               Genna        Kiba
                              Kayla        Jeremy
                              Mhaegen     Teiichi
                             Mirelle         Daryl
                               Marei        Mads
                              Danika     William
                             Scarlett      Dimitri
                             Siobhan       Tyger
                            Trixie           Oska
                              Azah         Alexis
                             Lucinda      Patrick
                              Yuki        Angelo
                               Kitty       Neal
                               Briony     Bobby
 
There were a few more names on the next piece of paper but Littlefinger didn't
bother looking at them, he could guess who else was in,  Ros was easily
anticipated. Sometimes Petyr was surprised by just how large his brothel was,
then there were other times when it seemed like a tiny side business.
 “I was wondering when you’d come back to see us, Littlefinger.” Said Ros as
the redhead entered his office.
“Azah told us you were here.” Added Olyvar following in behind Ros.
“Yes, I've had more important things to attend to. I thought the two of you
were capable of functioning without me for a little while. Was I wrong?”
Littlefinger raised his eyebrows questioningly while lighting a cigarette.
“Nah, trust me I function very well, thank you very much.” Olyvar mused with a
grin. “Maybe you'll let me show you sometime, boss.”
“Olyvar, the day I see you  function is the day I claw my own eyes out.” The
two men chuckled. “ Now Oly,  Loras Tyrell will be in later and you know how he
feels about you-”
“Pretty firm  if Olyvar's stories are true.” Mused Ros aloud.
 Petyr's cigarette smoke danced on the air floating upwards towards the quiet
extractor fan that was there only to take away the drifting fog.
“Don't worry boss, I'll take care of it.” The blonde man assured.
Talk went on like that for a time, basic business mixed with sarcastic comments
and smug smiles. Eventually  Olyvar left to tend to his chores and prepare for
a night of pleasing Loras Tyrell, leaving Petyr and Ros alone.
“Ros, now Oly as finally left. I was wondering if you had a spare dress,
something simple and basic is fine, I also need a pair of your shoes, flats.”
Petyr asked like it was the most normal request in the world. Ros raised a
perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“Nothing that would fit you, your bust-line is a little small for my dresses.”
She giggled.
“Don'tjoke with me, Ros.” He warned.
“Fine, fine. How tall is your mystery girl?” The redhead asked folding her arms
in front of her chest.
“She's my height.” He told her quickly.
“And her feet?”
“Around a six, they don't have to fit perfectly.”
“Alright, give me a minute.”
Ros had lived in the apartment above his brothel more or less since he took her
on, to begin with it had made it easier to have her watch over everything but
with Olyvar she wasn't necessary. Petyr finished going through some papers
while he waited for the redhead to return, he started to feel bad for leaving
Sansa alone; there was no way around it but still he felt like he was
abandoning her. Sansa hadn't called him and so he knew nothing was wrong, yet
there was still something deep down inside him, something he hadn't used in a
very long time continued to worry, his heart.  What is that girl doing to
me?Littlefinger didn't have chance to continue his train of thought because Ros
burst back into the room with a length of white fabric draped over her right
arm, a pair of red flats in the same hand and a small bag in her left.
“So I think I've found something that will fit her. It's old, I haven't worn it
in years.” Said the redhead with cherry red lined lips. “The flats are a five
but they should fit. I got some new underwear as well, haven’t worn it yet and
I have no idea if the bra will fit her.”
 “Thank you, Ros. I appreciate it.” Petyr signed his name on the bottom of his
last document before standing and taking the dress and mass of other things
from his second in command. “I've done everything I needed to do, call me if
Olyvar does something stupid.”
With that Petyr was gone from the building. The golden sun was high in the sky
burning bright with the day, white clouds floated through the sky on a gentle
breeze. Sansa would like this,he thought seemingly from nowhere. Petyr sat in
his sleek grey Aston Martin for a while, the driver's window rolled down and a
cigarette hanging loosely from his pink lips, he adored his DBS. The smoke
flooded into his lungs before slipping out past his lips in a gently floating
stream, each breath calmed him and cleared his mind. Petyr knew he really
should quit but he just couldn't bring himself to try. Petyr threw the butt out
his window... and that was when he saw it.
Baelish  had been gone longer than he'd wanted by the time he returned home,
Petyr quickly put the grocery before going back to his car to get  the dress
and a little something else. The dress hung over one arm and a white handled
paper bag in the other hand. He found her unmoved on the couch with a pen still
in her hand, such a hard little worker.
 “Welcome home, Master.” Sansa greeted, cerulean eyes locked on the hard wood
floor.
“Hello, Sweetling. I have something for you.”
Petyr set the bag down and held out the white dress towards her, Sansa's eyes
moved upwards looking at the dress but she dared not look at his face.
Suddenly her eyes grew wet and blurred, Sansa had thought she'd forgotten how
to cry. He came towards her and Sansa expected pain for her weakness but there
was none, instead strong arms snaked around her and pulled Sansa to his chest
in an embrace. Did this new Master actually care about her?
“Sweetling, what's with these tears?” He asked softly, far more softly than he
knew was possible.
 “Master...” She stammered. “... is too kind to... Sansa. Pet doesn't...
deserve it.”
“Sansa you deserve more than you think. Now, let's take this shirt off and put
the dress on, shall we?”
Sansa obeyed letting him slowly pull the pink shirt up over her head. She felt
no shame a her nakedness, Joffrey had taught her that she had no right too,
but as the white a-line dress slipped over her pale skin she felt like someone
finally cared. Petyr took a step back and just  looked at her, the dress was a
cream white with thin little straps and small decorative  gold buttons down the
whole front, chest to skirt. Her skin was a little too pale for such a color
but it went outstandingly with her long red locks and angelic eyes.
“There, you look beautiful. We'll get you some better clothes later.” Petyr
told her while wiping shed tears from Sansa's cheeks. “I have another present
for you as well.” Baelish looked down to the paper bag beside him on the floor
and then back to Sansa. “But first I want you to write me one sentence all of
your own, not one you've copied.”
He watched as Sansa pressed her pen to paper and thought hard, letters were
carefully written and then scribbled out when she realised a letter was wrong.
Finally she held out the pad for him to read.
                              Sansa likes Master.
 Petyr grinned at that, so simple but so meaningful. He quickly congratulated
her then bent to retrieve the bag before presenting it to her. Cautiously Sansa
opened the bag and pulled out her presents; pencils both graphite and colored,
a pen shaped eraser and finally a large drawing pad.
 “I saw the poppy you were drawing earlier, I think you should have somewhere
to draw properly.” He told her truthfully. That brought Sansa's eyes forth
anew.
“Master is too... good to Pet.” There's that word again.“Too nice.”
 “I'm not normally nice to people, you seem to be the exception.” Petyr smiled,
his hand came up to brush away the tears again. “No more crying. You're too
beautiful for that.”
“Yes Master.” She said quickly.
“How about you draw me something pretty, hmm? I'll make an early dinner.”
This suddenly got very domestic thought Petyr with a grin as he walked off
towards the kitchen. That girl really does have an effect on me. He still
wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
For now it was a grey area.
***** A Smile And A Sob Story *****
 Thunder screamed in the heavens that night, so violently that Zeus seemed
choleric and murderous. The sky was a sheet of black slate with not a single
star shining through the clouds, rain crashed against windows and trees creaked
in pain as thick winds bombarded them. Each flash lit up Petyr Baelish's
bedroom with a supernatural and eerie light every few seconds followed closely
by booms of thunder. The storm was upon them now. Poseidon's waves crashed down
on the beach ferociously with no sense of rhythm, it was all in a frenzy.
Strangely though this orchestra of the Gods had not been the thing to wake him
from his slumber, if anything storms helped Petyr sleep better than usual. No,
what had woken him was something that was almost muted by the evening's storm,
Sansa was crying, he could hear it through the wall.
 Petyr turned his head in the dark to face the wall that their bedrooms shared,
for years it had just been a guest room but now he found himself mentally
referring to it as  Sansa's room.   Most people probably wouldn't have noticed
it, especially over the storm, but Baelish wasn't   most people.  Unable to
return to sleep Petyr rose from his dark green sheets and sighed either the
horrific memories had caught up with her or he was the only one being comforted
by the storm high above,   it's probably both.  He slipped quickly out of bed
and walked to her room in the dark, wearing nothing but his long black silk
sleep pants. Petyr didn't hesitate he just walked in and crouched down to look
at her, she'd not slept in the bed since the day he'd gifted her the room and
that was two weeks previous.   Tearful blue  eyes had clenched shut and her
hands fisted around the purple shirt she slept in.
“What's wrong, Sweetling? Is it the storm?” Petyr asked calmly, he really
needed to sleep.
A  s if giving him a demonstration thunder struck again and the bedroom lit up
with an evil glow, Sansa whimpered and curled into herself even more as if
trying to vanish into oblivion. The man didn't speak, knew Sansa didn't trust
words any longer, he simply reached up to the bed and pulled a pillow from it,
throwing it under the bed before tugging the ocean colored comforter free as
well. In only a few moments the dark-haired man had shimmied   up to her and
covered them both over with the soft fabric.   Sansa was confused at first but
let Petyr pull her to his chest, he'd never been one for cuddling but he'd come
to realise that when he was with Sansa he was a whole different man. The
Mockingbird had Littlefinger, Lion and Stag Enterprises has Petyr Baelish CFO,
the Lannisters had   The   Cleaner, but Sansa,    she had Petyr Baelish
protector   and he was beginning to think that was his most important role.  He
really was a different man around her.
“It's alright, it's just a storm. Nothing can hurt you.” His tone was soft and
comforting.
S he weighed barely anything against his naked chest, fists still  clenched  in
fear   but he could feel her shaking begin to cease, her old Master had never
held her with comfort, never whispered sweet calming words to her.    Petyr
stayed like that, unmoving for the better part of an hour until finally Sansa's
breathing evened out and she slipped into slumber.    The storm started to fade
as well and Petyr felt a sense of loss    at that but sleep called to him and
Petyr decided he didn't care.   He joined her in  sleep.
 The next morning came and Petyr registered something unusual before he even
opened his eyes, most days were the same; open his grey orbs to find a white
ceiling and nothing more but there was something off. He   felt.   There was a
smile on his lips and his hips moved slowly back and forth, suddenly the
evening before came back to him and Petyr's eyes flew open to see the slats of
his guest bed   and an instant later   his head shot down to his still moving
hips... they stilled in a heartbeat. There, bent over his lap was Sansa, his
hard member deep in her warm mouth. The Littlefinger part of his brain wanted
to grip her fiery hair and thrust into her mouth but the protector side got
there first and pulled her up and off him.   Her lips glistened with a mix of
saliva and pre-cum, normally he'd have found that heavenly.
“What are you doing?” He asked more out of shock than anything else.
S ansa's cerulean orbs squeezed shut in fear of punishment  as she answered her
Master's question.
 “How... how Sansa should wake Master up.” Her voice was almost mute.
“Did he tell you that?” There was no need to specify who hewas, Sansa just
nodded. “Well you don't have to do it to me. But...” He began absent-mindedly.
“... you're rather good at it.”
“But Master is hard.” She leaned back down but Petyr caught her and pulled her
back.
“No!” He said far more forcefully than he'd intended. “You're not a sex slave.”
He sighed. “I'm not angry, Sansa. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to take a
shower.”
He doubted she would realise what that was code for,  maybe it was better that
way.
 When he emerged, praying she'd not heard him moan out her name, Petyr dressed
himself quickly in a black Armani suit with a crisp white shirt and paired it
with his Italian leather shoes. His h  ai  r was in perfect place as always,
coal black with a little grey around his temples;   elegant and powerful but
somehow in a  trust me kind of way.   Returning to Sansa's room he found her
huddled up in a ball looking sorry for herself, he'd told Sansa he wasn't angry
with her but that didn't change the fact she felt like she'd displeased him.
“Sweetling, I need you to come out from under there for me and put your dress
on.”
 Sansa obeyed in an instant, her mind had been hard-wired to obey her Master's
commands whether they were real commands or not. She shed his white shirt and
slipped on her clothes from the day before, Ros had been right, the violet bra
didn't fit her but thankfully the dress was designed in such a way it wasn't
necessary. Her feet slipped into the cherry red ballerina flats and she waited
for her Master's next order.
 “We're going shopping, Sweetling. You can't stay in that one dress and my old
shirts.” Petyr told her while straightening his collar.
 “Master... doesn't have to... buy things for... Sansa.” She stuttered out,
eyes cast at the floor, knowing he could do what ever he desired to her. 
 Petyr smiled and looked over at her fragile little frame,  so timid but so
strong.
“It's buy things for menot buy things for Sansa,and I know I don't have to but
I want to.” He flashed her a smile knowing she'd never see it. “I'm not having
you staying here looking like a slave.”
 When he'd found Sansa more or less every inch of her had been covered in thick
half healed bruises   but after two weeks her face was practically clear,  no
one would suspect the horrors of what she'd endured.  Bruises still littered
her arms and the leather burns   had yet to heal around her throat, the marks
would never completely fade. Knowing there would be questions about her arms
Petyr went to his closet in the next room and took out his black leather
jacket. When he slipped it around    her he realised just how thin Sansa was,
he'd soon fix that, the leather hung loosely from her body as though she were a
six-year-old wearing her father's clothes.
“There that's better, you'll stay warm this way too.”
 Getting her into the car took a little convincing, she'd grown to place some
trust in him but the outdoor world still gave her great pause. Words of comfort
did little to encourage her and he was reluctant to make it an order,
eventually Petyr decided she needed a little help and so took her hand before
leading her over to the awaiting car, her hand trembled in his but she was
brave enough to sit and let him shut the grey door.
 Petyr drove along the maze of streets and into town, buildings grew taller and
the streets grew busy with people; Sansa just gazed out the window and Petyr
couldn't decide if it was out of fear for the things around her or amazement of
how big the world really was.  Probably a little of both,  thought Petyr as he
drove.
 “I need you to be brave for me, Sansa. Can you do that?”
“Yes Master.” She said quietly.
“Sansa, while we are in public I need you to not call me Master.Okay?” Baelish
asked, his stormy eyes never leaving the road.
 “Yes Master. What would Master like Sansa to call him?”
 Petyr thought for a while and then it came to him as he slowed the car and
parked it. Once the engine had been silenced he turned and looked at her with a
calm smile.
 “Call me Uncle.” He watched the redhead for a reaction. “Is that alright.
Sweetling?”
 “Of course, Master. Sansa will obey.”
 That wasn't what Petyr wanted to hear, she was more than a slave built to obey
a man she hardly knew. He decided he'd work more on that later when he wasn't
in the middle of trying to clothe her. After a moment Petyr had her out the car
and walking down the street with him, her eyes remained glued to the floor as
they walked and her body was tense but Sansa was determined to be brave for her
new Master.  New Master is so kind, shouldn't anger him  she thought as they
walked. Sansa had never known such kindness, she'd never known what it was to
be outside or have food and clothes to ware.
 “I know you're brave, Sansa.” Petyr started. “You'll feel much better after
you have some things of your ow- Sansa?” She wasn't by his side.
 Petyr's green-grey eyes flew round looking for the redhead,   there was a pang
of something in his chest,  is this worry? She was gone. He'd lost her. He'd
let her wander off. What would Cat say? His head swung around to retrace his
steps and there she was only a few feet away,  her eyes locked on something
inside one of the stores.
 “See something you like?” He asked kindly once his feet were done carrying him
to her side.
 Sansa jumped a little upon hearing the deep tones of his voice, she'd been
lost in her own little world for a moment or two, memories of her brother's and
sister suddenly filling her mind.    Her Master tilted his head up to the
store, a handmade toy store, and couldn't help but grin smugly
“No Mas-Uncle. Sorry Uncle.”
“It's alright. But really, which one were you looking at?”
 Petyr watched as she raised her hand and pointed towards one of the toys
displayed on the counter at the back of the shop.   It was a wolf, grey
sleek and utterly beautiful as well as obviously hand-made, the creatures eyes
stood out bold, bright and majestic. Petyr could see why Sansa had locked onto
that one above all others.
“Come on, let's go and get you some clothes.” A hand came up and rested on her
shoulder guiding Sansa away from shop window and down towards the boutique he
knew would  get her everything she needed. “That's more important right now.”
 Sansa followed her Master   just a few steps and into   the boutique that was
the subject of the whole outing.    Petyr quickly dealt with the staff, making
sure    they didn't spent too much time touching Sansa as they   started to
take   her measurements; it was clear she wanted to shy away and hide but her
Master had asked her to be brave and so she would be. He could see the staff
clocking her fading bruises and flashing him looked when they thought he
couldn't see them, Petyr had to do something about it and so headed over to the
manager.
“Can I help you, Sir?” Asked the short blonde.
 “I can see you've noticed how nervous my niece is,” He sighed to show some
emotion and glanced lovingly at Sansa before turning his head back. “I just
wanted to ask you and your staff to be patient with her. She's been through a
lot and has nothing left.” Petyr flashed a charming smile at the older woman
and knew he'd gotten her, she thought he was a kind and just man.  Oh how
gullible people can be.
“Of course, Sir.” Said the older blonde, her crimson lips flashing a smile.
“She's being so brave.”
“Thank you for being so understanding.” A sob story and a smile, is that really
all it takes these days?
T  he staff seemed to back off to a bare minimum after that and the questioning
looks ceased, Petyr was pleased to see Sansa relax though it was only a little.
So brave  Baelish's mind reminded him.
“Sweetling, I'll be back in a few minutes. Will you be alright?” He shot her a
look that said you're brave, you'll be fine.Sansa never saw it though because
she never let her eyes meet his.
 Petyr tired to make it sound like something she had choice in but Sansa had
been hard wired to just do as commanded and have no thoughts of her own.
“Yes Uncle.”
Uncle  didn't feed his ego quite the same as   Master  did but he wasn't going
to complain, Petyr knew he shouldn't have been enjoying this traumatized,
abused, scared, raped and God only knew what else, child calling him   Master
with every single sentence. However, Petyr Baelish was not a good man and so he
couldn't silence that bit of his brain that grinned smugly every time he heard
it.
Sansa was braver than she believed, she'd be alright for a few minutes.
***** Wolves and Mockingbirds *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sansa counted each and every second until her Master returned,  one... two...
three... The women around her said things she didn't listen too, thirty-six...
thirty-seven... thirty-eight, she thought it was words of encouragement, she'd
heard what Petyr told them and Sansa was actually thankful for it.  One fifty-
eight... one fifty-nine... two minutes. Her new Master didn't yell at her like
the old one did , didn't hit her or force her to do things either. Four twenty-
two... four twenty-three.... four twenty-four.  He was good to her and Sansa
returned that with the little bit of trust she had left in her heart; the
redhead decided he deserved that.  Five ten... five eleven... five twelve. From
what had happened that morning Sansa knew he wouldn't force her to have sex
with him as well which had instantly lifted a weight and given her some sense
of happiness; she'd also learnt that her new Master was rather a lot larger
than Joffrey and his moaned pants were far gentler on her ears that the blondes
harsh words.  Five eighteen... five nineteen... five twenty...that was it, five
minutes and twenty seconds was the time it took for him to return to her. The
boutique's glass door opened and her Master made his way back over to her with
an expensive looking handled paper bag in sleek black gripped in his right
hand. The bag had the initials 'HT' on the front in bold white but there was
nothing other than that.
 “Told you I'd be back.” Petyr grinned as he set the bag down and took a seat
again.
The smell of cigarette smoke drifted from his suit, normally it was
undetectable but this was certainly the opposite, though it explained part to
the reason he'd left.
 “Sir, we've taken her measurements and I have my other staff getting her
sizes. Is there anything else I can do for you?” The blonde woman's high
ponytail swished as she spoke and her pale skin made her lipstick seem even
redder.
 “I think we're quite alright.” Said Petyr. “Thank you.”
 The blonde, whose name he didn't care to find out, left them be so Sansa could
look through the clothing brought to her. There was so much of it, so much
choice and so many colors.
 “What do you like, Sweetling?”
Was he really giving her a choice over all this? Was he letting her have some
control over her life?
 “It's all so nice Ma-Uncle.” Sansa prayed he didn't notice her slip up.
“You can choose whatever you like.” He said again, drilling the fact that she
had choice into her head. “You pick it and you can have it.”
Baelish wanted his redhead to have everything her heart desired and more,
wanted to see her adorned in fine silk and diamonds.  How is she doing this to
me? Petyr always looked out for himself and only himself but Sansa... she made
him care.
Silently Sansa looked through the choices, everything was beautiful and clearly
expensive; Joffrey hadn't let her ware anything and yet here was her new Master
giving her the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. There was a dress neatly
folded on the top that caught her cerulean eyes, it was the color of emeralds
and had a high neckline that would hide most of her bruises. The sleeves were
three-quarter and when Sansa reached out to touch it she found the fabric
thicker than she'd expected; it would be warm and comfortable. Petyr saw her
eyeing it and smiled, in seconds he was by her side and had unfolded the dress
to press it against her body, the green hue went amazingly with her pale skin
and fiery hair. Its a-line cut flattered her figure without showing just how
thin she really was and came down to just above her knee as the white dress she
wore did.
“Do you like it?” He asked with a tone that genuinely wanted to hear the
answer.
“Yes Uncle.” Voice still tiny.
“Then you shall have it. What else do you like?”
 That went on for a time and Sansa actually found herself enjoying it, for a
while she even forgot about the horrors of her life, something she thought
wasn't possible. In the end and after several words of encouragement Sansa
found herself with a pile of clothes that she'd chosen herself. They were in a
range of colors and though Sansa had subtly questioned if he was sure he wanted
her to have all these things Petyr seemed adamant.
 They left the store in silence and for the first time in as long as she could
remember Sansa felt like a person rather than an object. Sansa couldn't explain
the surge of strength she got from him, it was a radiating wave that washed
over her every few seconds and made her feel as though the nightmares she
called memories had happened to someone else. Her heart grew with more and more
strength each time that wave hit her but her mind was not so easily changed, he
was her Master. Petyr sat the bags down in the back seat of his Aston Martin
DB5, his beloved classic car, and then helped to strap Sansa in. He looked at
her for a second or two before reaching into the back seat and pulling the
black bag out, setting it in her lap.
“A gift for being such a brave girl.”
 Sansa gazed down at the bag, she'd wondered what was inside it since he'd
returned to the shop with it. There was a layer of thin cream tissue paper
hiding the gift underneath and Sansa flashed her eyes up just enough to see his
lips were still upturned before sending them back to the bag in her lap.
“Go on." He encouraged.
Sansa couldn't believe he was giving her more, after the huge wardrobe he'd
just bought for her and the art supplies Sansa couldn't think of anything else
she'd ever want let alone need. The present called her though and cautiously
the teenager reached into the bag and pulled free her gift... the wolf. In her
hands was the handmade seated timber wolf cub she'd admired a few hours
earlier, Sansa's heart clenched, it was the kindest and most thoughtful thing
anyone had ever done for the young girl.
 “I thought you'd like this little cub.” Petyr smiled, he liked seeing her
happy.
Suddenly it struck him, it all became clear to him as to why he wanted to
protect her,she's like me.Sansa was strong and a fighter just like him. She's
learnt everything she could to please Joffrey, if he taught her how to learn
everything about those around her and then use it against them Sansa would be
unstoppable.
 “Thank you, Master!” Sansa beamed, she actually beamed, something she didn't
know was possible.
“You're quite welcome.” He told her softly.
Until that very second Petyr had thought that she was shattered and could never
find all the pieces but  looking at her with that timber wolf pressed to her
chest Baelish realised it, she wasn't shattered she was cracked... and
fractures could be repaired. It would take a great deal of time but she seemed
to have put a level of trust in him and that was a start.
“What are you going to call your wolf?” He asked with genuine curiosity.
The redhead thought for a moment before speaking to him softly.
“Sansa doesn't know. Master should choose.”
Petyr grinned at the young woman before him, she probably knew only the names
of men who had hurt her and himself. He thought for a time,  Patch, Lucky,
Wolfy  were all too common for a stuffed toy and Petyr refused to let anything
around Sansa Stark be  common. Baelish was silent for a time, he could announce
Remus or Romulus, maybe even Fenrir but she would understand none of those
names and so his mind turned its attention towards something more simple; the
animal's tail had a red sheen to it and he couldn't help but think of her hair.
That's it.
“How about Copper?” He asked with a grin.
 Sansa was quiet for a moment and then looked back at the timber wolf.
“Hello Copper.” His girl seemed happy.
“Shall we go home?”
Sansa nodded and Petyr turned his attention to the car, slipping the key into
the ignition but just as he went to turn it his cellphone started to ring and
chime. Sansa watched quietly while tickling the wolf behind its furry ears, he
let out the occasional  yes, mmm  and okay as if to punctuate the brief
conversation. Her Master didn't seem angry just annoyed, something that was
proven when he let out a long sigh and muttered something about wanting a
cigarette under his breath. The afternoon had given way to early evening and
the streets grew busier with people going home  but Sansa refused to be afraid
while her Master was beside her, she didn't want to cause him any problems when
he'd already gotten someone talking in his ear. Finally Petyr hung up and
turned to his redhead with an apologetic smile, not that she saw it.
“I'm sorry, Sweetling. We have to make a pit stop before home.”
 Sansa nodded without question and simply cuddled into her new wolf, Copper,
with love as he drove along the tarmacked streets. Petyr had clicked on the
stereo at one point and rhythmic notes filled the vehicle along with lyrics.
                                        
                         I was walkin' down the street
                         When out the corner of my eye
                  I saw a pretty little thing approaching me
                         She said, "I never seen a man
                            Who looked so all alone
                      Oh could you use a little company?”
                                        
 She actually rather liked the music, but her favourite thing was the way Petyr
drummed his thumbs against the black steering wheel and hummed along without
noticing it. There was a real passion for music in his heart and Sansa actually
found some comfort in that.
                                        
                  You know there ain't no rest for the wicked
                           Money don't grow on trees
                              We got bills to pay
                             We got mouths to feed
                   And ain't nothing in this world for free
                             No we can't slow down
                              We can't hold back
                       Though you know we wish we could
                     No there ain't no rest for the wicked
                       Until we close our eyes for good.
                                        
Eventually Petyr stopped the car outside a building marked as  The Mockingbird
by a large plum purple sign over an archway that led to a huge main black door.
The door was propped open, probably due to the heat of the day, but there was
nothing else there to indicate the place was open let alone that there was a
business there.  Does Master own this place? Sansa wondered.
 “Wait here, Sansa. I'll be back in a few minutes.” Her Master told her while
opening the driver's door and stepping out.
 The teenage girl watched the dark-haired man walk into the building and out of
sight from her aqua eyes; Sansa trusted that he'd be back though. She didn't
know how long she waited, time wasn’t important, it was more than ten minutes
but less than twenty. Her mind wandered as she played with her grey-red wolf,
Copper's ears were soft and inviting, eyes bold and shining in the twilight; it
was almost poetic.
 Suddenly there was a thud as a tall, beefy man thudded into the car, Sansa
screamed and jumped back her eyes grew bold with fright. The man was bald and
clearly drunk, Sansa knew what drunk looked like all too well thanks to Joffrey
Baratheon.
 “Sorry sexy.” The old man stammered with a hungry smile and a subtle Dorne
accent before stumbling off and out of sight.
Sansa tried to be brave, to stay put and obey her Master's every command, but
her body shivered. Fire red hair cascaded around her face as she hunched over
trying to hide from the planet, the man from Dorne had torn away all strength
she had for the day, fear lived throughout her body strong and powerful again.
Fingers turned white as she clung to her toy with desperation, heart pounding
in her head like a train clicking on its tracks. She couldn't take it, she
wanted,  needed, her Master. Before Sansa knew her feet were moving she'd
darted out the car, slamming the door shut behind her, and racing into The
Mockingbird in search of her Master, her protector, the one person she had any
trust in.
 Sansa froze when she saw what was inside, women and men, dressed in revealing
outfits, men touching them. Loud music bouncing around the building while
people sipped drinks. More importantly her Master was nowhere in sight. She
clamped her eyes shut and clung to Copper with a vice like grip, her lungs felt
like they were hyperventilating and the room started to spin... until a man
started to talk at her side in a friendly voice that had a sarcastic undertone.
“You must be new.” Sansa opened her eyes but kept the blue orbs firmly locked
on the ground. “Love the little girllook.”
The taller man's hand came down to stroke along her neckline for a second and
she instantly filched, moving away quickly, her Master had said no one would
hurt her again, Sansa believed that... and Master would be angry if anyone else
touched Sansa,her mind added.
“Oh come on, don't be like that.” The man grabbed at her wrist, not painfully
just enough to keep her there with him.
At that moment a large door marked ownerswung open opposite Sansa and the
stranger.
“Wulfric, stop your whining. We both know what you're like and we both know
that if one of my girls hadstolen from you you'd have never noticed it was
gone. In fact-” Petyr stopped dead upon seeing Sansa, one hand gripping Copper
and the other pulling away from the tall man. Baelish's eyes narrowed and
darkened at the sight. “Bronn release her now! She's not a whore.”
 The man, Bronn, held his hands up in a sign of surrender and flashed Petyr a
sarcastic grin.
“Sorry, Littlefinger.” He began. “Didn't know you had a thing for age play.
Does she call you Daddyand everything?”
 Bronn chucked and startled Sansa into running to Petyr and half hiding behind
him.
“Master.”
 Wulfric still stood beside Petyr and looked at Sasna with confusion for a
moment, Bronn but out laughing.
“Masterhuh? You really do have her trained.” Bronn wandered off out the brothel
with a chuckle on his lips and a byetossed over his shoulder.
 “Wulfric please leave my brothel, I have things to attend to. Goodbye.” Petry
said dismissively, Wulfric opened his mouth to speak but Petyr flashed him
warning eyes and the bald man's mouth closed quickly. “Leave.” Wulfric obeyed.
 Baelish turned back into his office and guided Sansa along with him, closing
the door behind them. Sansa prayed that he wasn't angry with her, she couldn't
take that. Her legs gave way; she'd disobeyed him and let another man touch her
all in one day, yet her knees did not strike the hard black floor beneath her
feet, no, instead large hands caught her and carried Sansa to sit in his lap
behind his desk. Petyr held her with care and whispered sweet nothings into her
ear until she calmed down.
 “Why did you come in here, Sweetling?” He asked softly. “I asked you to wait
in the car.”
 “There... there was a man... he-” Sansa cut herself off and reveled in his
arms.
 “And you got scared. It's alright, I'm not mad.” Her Master's words were
prepossessing with a kindness that only he seemed to be able to show her.
Wasn't mad? Sansa hadn't expected to hear that, If she'd disobeyed Joffrey
Sansa would have been beaten to within an inch of her life. Was she not going
to be punished?
 The music was muted inside his large office, just a faint ringing drifting
under the door on a steady breeze. There were no windows just solid walls
painted in the same deep purple as the sign outside, decorated with heavily
stocked bookshelves and a few beautiful works of art; Petyr certainly had
taste.
 “Master has other slaves.” Sansa said when she could take the silence no
longer.
“What? No!” Petyr responded with raised eyebrows and a sense of confusion that
lasted but a moment. “They work here, it's their job, they're not slaves.” He
didn't want to talk about it. “Just forget about it.”
 Sansa actually believed him. She wasn't stupid, Sansa knew Petyr was no saint
but he was nothing like her old Master; he'd never have a building full of
slaves. Her body relaxed but her fingers gripped his tailored shirt, a childish
action but one that made her feel safe and Master didn't stop her so Sansa
allowed herself some indulgence. Littlefinger raised his eyes at the touch,
she'd never touched him willingly and without reservation before, Baelish
actually liked it and couldn't help but realise they looked like a father
comforting his child after a nightmare. His palms were heated with a burning
fire that slipped through the fabric of her dress and warmed her scared little
body; Baelish couldn't see it but Sansa's eyes started to shine just a little
brighter, the dullness enslavement had caused being forced out a millimetre at
a time. As if to end the silence Petyr's office door swung open admitting a
thin blonde man to the room, loud music followed behind him until he clicked
the door shut. The blonde was dress in tight black jeans and an open sky blue
shirt that showed off his muscular chest, Sansa couldn't help but notice that
though there were clearly several years between her Master and the other man
both shared a well toned physique.
“What's with the girl?” He asked with his hand still resting on the door
handle.
Petyr thought quickly before responding.
 “Olyvar this is Alayne, my niece.”
 Olyvar leaned against the wall and crossed his strong arms over his
midsection. There was a smile on his face as he rested a booted foot against
the wall.
“Yeah, I don't believe that for a second, Littlefinger. No way in hell that a
girl as pretty as  her is related to you.”
 Petyr saw the funny side of that comment and breathed out a laugh that
vibrated through Sansa's chest after it was done with his own.
“That's because it's not true but that's the story that will leave this room.
The story that will be told to those who ask about her. And that is the story
you-”
“The story that I'll tell and the only story I'll tell if I don't want to die.
I get it, you don't have to worry, I'm not in the business of hurting teenagers
just because I can. Oh, and I'm fartoo smart to go against you, Boss.” Olyvar
smiled.
 “See Oly, there's the reason I like you.” Petyr looked down to Sansa.
“Sweetling, can you say hello to Olyvar for me?”
 “...hello Olyvar.” Her voice was tiny but Baelish was no less proud of her.
“Good girl.” Petyr praised before removing his arms from her side. “Up.”
 Sansa obeyed in an instant, jumping up to her full height beside his large oak
desk, Copper held under her chin. Baelish stood from the desk as well and bent
down to scribble his signature on the bottom of a piece of paper before
straightening up and holding the paper out to Olyvar. The blonde took the hint
and walked over to take the white sheet, flashing a smile at Sansa.
 “Give that to Ros once she's done with whoever it is she's fucking. Oh, and if
Wulfric Trancy causes any more problems don't call me to fix it, just throw him
out.” Petyr instructed while slipping his bespoke suit jacket back on.
“Alright.” Oly turned to leave but paused halfway and turned back. “Oh I almost
forgot, a man called and asked for you earlier. When I asked his name he just
said he was the man who drinks and knows things.Then he hung up.”
Petyr chortled for a moment and pushed his desk chair back in.
“He's the last person I expected to hear from.” He said absent-mindedly. “Thank
you Olyvar. Now, if you'll excuse us, I promised my nieceher that we'd go
home.”
 
 
 
 
This is the handmade toy that Petyr gives Sansa (Copper) and it's from Hansa
who make some really nice but really expensive toys.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     The song lyrics are from Ain't No Rest For The Wicked by Cage The
     Elephant.
***** The Area That Lies Between *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 As soon as Petyr shut the front door of his house upon returning home Sansa
fell to her knees with head lowered, she sat on her haunches with pale hands
resting in her lap and red locks slipping down around her face. When Petyr
turned to face her, keys still in hand, his eyebrows flew up and for a moment
his ego grinned, he liked the Stark girl on her knees for him; in a heartbeat
the memory of her mouth around him came flooding back. His happy thoughts died
painfully a second later when his Sweetling spoke.
 “Sansa should be punished for disobeying Master. Sansa deserves to be hit.
Shouldn't have left the car.”
 Petyr wasn't having that, she was stronger than that and he wouldn't let
Joffrey continue to force her into thinking otherwise. Baelish crouched down to
eye level, though she never looked up, and when words fell from her lips they
were dominant and certain.
“Sweetling, there will be no punishments, there's no need for that. You got
scared, you didn't kill a king.” His stormy eyes didn't fail to catch the
puzzlement that flashed across her features. “Now, it's been hot outside so I
thought you'd like a shower. Would you like help or can you manage? Your
choice.”
Sansa thanked any deity that would listen,  he won't hit   Sansa   , Master
said Sansa  won't be punished.  Her worry eased and another spark of light
returned to her eyes. Petyr's hand gently grazed down her face and for the
first time in as long as she could remember she didn't mind being touched.
 “Sansa can do it, Master. Sansa won't burden her Master.” The teenagers voice,
surprisingly, didn't shake.
 “You're never going to be a burden. Now, go and take your shower. If you need
me just call.”
 Sansa wasted no time in doing as her Master wished, leaving him alone to think
about holding her again.
Soon enough she was naked and in the shower that attached to her room, warm
water cascaded over her beaten and bruised body like a magical waterfall that
Sansa couldn't get enough off. To her something as simple as a shower was pure
heaven. Chained to Joffrey's bed Sansa had come to think that the world was no
bigger than his room, that the outside world was just a fantasy her mind had
made up to make her feel better, almost like that allegory of the cave. Now she
knew the truth. Sansa wasn't stupid, she knew Petyr wasn't  good but he wasn't
evil either; a grey area she decided as she bathed her skin. He'd not yelled or
struck her since taking ownership of her and the world had started to seem like
there were no men like that left. Bruises healed slowly, her skin becoming
milky white again rather than purple, yellow and black. However, with the
healing of her skin she found that scars became more pronounced, long faint
lines littered her back while tiny raised bumps decorated her upper thighs and
buttocks;  will they fade away too? Sansa didn't know. So many years had passed
since the girl had seen her red hair,  I look like Mother again.
 When she was finished Sansa shut off the water and towel dried before
venturing back into her bedroom, it was so strange to have a room just for her,
she stopped dead upon seeing her Master in the middle of the room with
something in his hands. When he took a step towards her and extended his arms,
skin on display now he'd rolled his sleeves up, strange pattens littered one
arm that Joffrey hadn’t had.
 “They're called tattoos.” He said and Sansa snapped back from her staring
somewhat embarrassed and worried he'd punish her and nothing else was said on
the subject.
It was then that Sansa realised he was offering her one of his old shirts that
she'd taken to sleeping in; this one was a dark orange that looked as though it
had never been worn and so had probably been a gift. Sansa felt green-grey eyes
on her as she neatly folded her wet white towel and slipped on the shirt,
buttoning it up almost all the way. Petyr had indeed been watching her, Sansa's
beauty wasn't lost on him.  She looks like Catelyn  he thought as his eyes
ghosted over her form,  yet more beautiful than she ever was. Sansa chose that
moment to speak, voice a cross between timid and curious.
 “...Has... Sansa done something... wrong, Master?”
 “No, Sweetling.” He told her quickly and honestly. “... But I'm going to.” He
confessed. “I told you I wasn't a good man.”
Before Sansa could take a breath let alone move his hands were holding her pale
cheeks and his lips pressed against her own. Something not unpleasant shot
through her body, head to toe and then he stepped away as though nothing had
ever happened; she was confused a little dazed and the taste of mint lingered
on her tongue.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour.” Was all he said before leaving her alone in
the lapis painted bedroom
The redhead's mind was firmly locked on what had just transpired, she'd never
been kissed like that before, Joffrey had enjoyed pushing his tongue, flavoured
in junk food, into her mouth until she couldn't breath but the way her new
Master had kissed her... it was  so different. Her Master's kiss had been
gentle and caring, no force just a gentle pressure, and after a moment of
thought and debate... Sansa decided she'd liked it, there was a voice in the
back of her head telling her to run while she had that chance, that Petyr
Baelish was dangerous and would use her in the same way as Joffrey but she
ignored it.  He said she was brave and Sansa would prove that not only to him
but herself.
“Master is good to Sansa.” She told herself.
Damp red hair swished as she turned to the night table that held her writing
and art supplies, Sansa didn't want her Master to think she was hiding from him
after what had just happened. With the items in her arms Sansa walked down the
stairs and into the  vestibule , a large room painted in rich purple, the color
reminded Sansa of his club, the floor was a shined black marble and though it
was a large ovular room the colors somehow made it cosy. The houses staircase
curled around the room so anyone who descended them would find themselves face
to face with the front door, it also had a frosted glass railing with little
cut outs to make it look as though there were small birds in flight up it, so
far that was Sansa's favourite feature of Petyr's home. In the centre of the
room stood a round oak table  topped with a black stature of a bird, she
remembered Master telling her it was a mockingbird; like that place Sansa was
at earlier, that was a mockingbird too.To her left was an archway that led off
to his study, library, basement and a few other rooms she'd not dared ventured
to yet, while the one on her right took her to the living room and open
kitchen. Once inside she walked around his black couches and sat cross-legged
on the hardwood floor in front of the patio doors gazing out at the garden that
overlooked the rocky coast of Kings Landing. It was only then that she noticed
the music filling the air, rock with an air of country to it.
                                        
                           You made a promise, babe
                            To love me 'til the end
                          And you can't back out now
                          Just 'cause I'm one of them

                              Cain split the atom
                           And he laid it in my bed
                             I changed the sheets
                        And built a fire there instead
                                        
Petyr watched from the kitchen as she started to work on her writing, he'd
always liked the way his open planned kitchen let him look straight though the
living room and out the patio doors, it was almost tranquil. The man with
greying hair pulled his eyes away for a time so he could finish preparing their
dinner, he worked quickly while humming along with the music.
 
                                Red revelations
                          Chapters one until the end
                            Who's gonna save me now
                          Looks like I'm one of them.
                                        
Soon enough the salmon was in to roast and he had a few minuets spare, he
washed his hands and then went to his girl.
“Dinner will take a little while longer.” He told her from above, quietly
reading her sentences; her handwriting is improving.“It occurs to me that
though we went outside today you spent most of that in the store or my car.”
 Sansa watched as her Master opened the patio doors and then turned back
holding a hand out to her, she took it instantly and let him lead her outside.
Blades of soft grass cuddled her bare feet once out into the night, a gentle
padding that she'd never known before, the grass was cold but not uninviting
and Sansa felt a faint smile ghost over her lips.
It was one of those nights, the nights where the wind moved effortlessly
through the streets and the moon hung high in the sky, blessing the evening
with rich moonlight. A night that gave peace as a reward for the hectic rush of
the day. A night that seemed to coat everything in innocence and
tranquillity... seemed to at least. The darkness wasn't when evil came out to
play, evil never slept, daylight had fooled people into believing it was safe,
that it posed no threat. Of course, that wasn't true. None of that was
important now though.
 The night air was cooler than he'd expected and Petyr couldn't help but notice
the way her hair shined in the supernatural moonlight, still a little damp.
Their ears heard waves crashing against the cliffs not far from his home, an
almost therapeutic sound and Baelish was suddenly reminded of why he'd
purchased the house that overlooked Kings Landing's coast. Sansa's mind was
focused on the beauty of the night but his focus was on the beauty of her.
 “You can come out here whenever you like, Sansa.” He flashed a glance up her
thighs. “Just don't get too close to the cliff edge.” She'd have to walk a good
five or more minutes to reach the edge but Petyr felt like he needed to warn
her anyway. “I don't want you to fall or hurt yourself.”
“Thank you, Master!”
Sansa smiled and for a second he thought she may hug him. Don't be stupid
Petyr,he silently chastised himself, she's just happy to have some freedom.
“I also apologise if I upset you earlier when I kissed you. That was not my
intent.”
 Silence hung in the air for a short time while Sansa gazed at the grass and
then with a little voice set to the backdrop of the ocean she spoke.
 “Sansa was not upset, Master. Sansa... liked it.”
“Good.”
 Good was all he could say, his brain stopped functioning which was highly
unusual for Petyr Baelish. Everything Petyr did was with the mind, but his
girl, this beautiful girl seemed to be playing with his heart.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
He had to be quick, had to make sure he was in and out before the police showed
up to do a search for more of Joffrey Baratheon's unlicensed guns. The night
was perfectly dark and no one would see him, normally Ramsay Bolton would just
torture and kill anyone who got in his way but he didn't have time on this
night. The front door had been unlocked, 'Joffrey is such a fucking moron' the
pale man thought as he stepped inside the garish house. The lights were off and
everything seemed far too clean for it to have been Joffrey's bachelor pad; for
a moment Ramsay thought he was in the wrong house.
Everything was silent as he walked up the stairs in search of his prize, of
what he was owed. However, the silence fell dead with the birth of a thud, the
noise was almost as if someone was trying to muffle it and it didn't take long
to realise whoever it was had climbed out onto the roof. Ramsay raced back down
the stairs and round to the garage just in time to hear a car race away.
Someone had been there, someone who wasn't Joffrey or the Lannisters. His
prize, where was his prize? Ramsay searched the whole house but nothing, she
wasn't in the bedroom where the whore was normally kept, she was just gone. It
seemed one of Joffrey's so-called friends had taken it upon themselves to take
his plaything for their own. Ramsay wouldn't allow that, he'd won her fair and
square from that blonde brat. She was his.
Ramsay sat bolt upright in his bed, sweat clung to his naked form as his toned
chest rose and fell. Anger surged through his body in tsunami like waves, his
eyes were dark.
“I will find you, you little bitch.”
Ramsay Bolton always got what he wanted.
Chapter End Notes
     Lyrics used are One Of Them by Jace Everett.
     I know that Petyr nor Aidan Gillen have tattoos but I got it into my
     head that it would be really cool for him to have a full sleeve with
     designs that held meaning to him, almost like a map of his rise to
     power. I also have a little bit of an end game with it as well.
***** The Warmth That's Felt From Another *****
The day finally came where Petyr could avoid work no longer and had no choice
but to leave Sansa at his house while he returned to his day job; CFO of Lion
and Stag Enterprises. Sansa hadn't wanted her Master to leave her alone but she
knew he had to work, he'd left her alone before but never for so long. Sansa
could do it though, she'd be brave... for him.
 That was how Baelish found himself going through paperwork in search of all
the operational risks that could come back to bite Lion and Stag in the ass. No
one could deny that Petyr was good at his job, whether that be as CFO,
Littlefinger the brothel owner or Cleaner to the homicidal. Petyr was lost in
thought about the company when his office door opened without so much as a
quiet knock and Varys stepped inside. The bald man was Lion and Stag's CHRO or
Chief Human Resources Officer, he was responsible for all aspects of human
resource management and industrial relations policies, practices and operations
for Lion & Stag Enterprises. However, just like Petyr, Varys had another job;
he ferried secrets and rumours, in the form of his  Little Birds, around the
city and other companies to build cover stories about those the Lannister's had
killed; their own personal Master of Whispers. Other than that he was probably
the closest thing Petyr had to a friend, after Sansa, Olyvar and even Ros of
course. Not that Petyr wanted or needed friends. Varys could get information
out of just about anyone except Petyr, that was probably the reason they acted
friendly towards one another. Petyr dealt with the physical evidence while
Varys handled the theories and consequences.
 “Nice to see you're back, Baelish. I need you to approve this HR expense for
me.” Seconds later Varys had set a document down on Petyr's desk.
 Petyr read it over quickly and signed before handing it back, it wasn't
anything that outlandish and HR did actuality need it.
 “You came all the way to my office for this? Doubtful, why are you really here
Varys?” Petyr asked, his eyes never leaving his work.
 Varys grinned smugly without actually smiling.
“What kept you away from the battlefield so long? We were beginning to worry
about you.”
 “You don't worry about anyone but yourself, you're like me in that respect.”
The dark-haired man mused aloud before looking up to Varys. “And if you must
know, my niece came to stay with me.” He lied.
 “Ah, that explains why my Little Birds saw you with a girl a few days ago.” He
mused to himself looking off out the window. “But that really kept you away for
two weeks solid? One would almost think you cared, Petyr.”
 Petyr leaned back in his chair and joined Varys looking out the window, the
two often had whole conversations without looking at one another.
 “Don't tell anyone my secret.” The two laughed at the joke as they watched the
outside world, a few moment passed by like that until the bald man in an Armani
suit spoke again.
“So what's her name?”
 “Alayne.” Petyr responded smoothly and without a hint of dishonesty.
It may have sounded like he was being truthful but Varys lived his life with
the motto; assume Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish is lying until proven
otherwise.It had served him well so far.
“Pretty-”
 Whatever Varys was to say next found itself interrupted by Gwendolyn's voice
chiming through the intercom box on the left of his desk, Gwendolyn was a
rather competent woman who Petyr usually couldn't fault; if anything it was her
obsession with Jaime Lannister that annoyed him the most about her she really
couldn't see that Jaime only had eyes for his sister.
“Mister Baelish, I'm sorry to interrupt but Mister Lannister wants to see you.”
Most people would have asked which  Mister Lannister,   there were at least six
of them in the building after all but Petyr knew it could only be Tywin, Ja  im
e and the others never spoke to him unless in a meeting; in fact thinking about
it only Tyrion had ever spoken to him without being forced to do so. Varys
picked up on this as well and let his mouth twitch with a sarcastic smile.
“I'll pray for you shall I?”
 Petyr stood from his desk and slipped on his coal suit jacket from the back of
his chair before responding.
“Varys, I don't think the Gods, old or new, care. Now get out of my office.”
   The bald man did as asked and walked off out the office with Petyr following
behind him, once out Varys went off to the left,     presumably back to his own
office while Baelish turned right and headed to the other side of the buildings
top floor where Tywin Lannister's domain was. He nodded a  hello  to Hannah,
Tywin's latest assistant before knocking on the door and going in.
T he office was over the top in size and scarcely decorated save for the Lion
sculptures and   occasional pot plant. Three walls were painted in a gold color
that Petyr thought was a little over the top while the fourth, behind Tywin's
desk was a floor to ceiling window that looked out over the financial district.
Baelish had always preferred the view from his own office, he could see the
ocean while the Lannister patriarch could just see grey buildings.
“You asked to see me.” Said Petyr approaching the desk where Tywin was sat.
“Yes.” The man answered plainly. “But not in your CFO capacity.”
“Sorry, my other one is brothel ownernot brothel worker.” Petyr chuckled while
Tywin let out an unimpressed and nasal noise.
 “Don't piss me off, Baelish.” The elder man warned but it did nothing to
remove the smug grin on Petyr's lips. “Truthfully I don't like you. I never
have but you've made yourself quite invaluable, so I let you stay.”
“What can I say? It's nice to been needed.” Another smug grin.
“Anyway.” Twyin said dismissively. “You have contacts high up with the police-”
“And you need me to talk to them about getting Joffrey out because the few cops
who aren't bent are watching you like a hawk.” Petyr finished for him
“Indeed.”
“Leave it with me.”
Petyr had every intention of getting Joffrey Baratheon out, he could probably
get it down to a warning and some community service, surprising Joffrey hadn't
had any major dealings with law enforcement before. Getting him out would take
time but he could do it, and once that blonde bastard was out he'd bided his
time to let Joffrey think he was king of the world again and then Petyr would
destroy him for what he'd done to Sansa.  And what better way to get revenge on
Cersei than to take her darling boy just like she took Cat's children?
 “That child is a spoilt brat, but he is a Lannister.”
“Don't we all know it.” Baelish mumbled to himself.
“Let's not start those rumours again.”
“Yes, but wouldn't it be nice if they were just rumours? He has Jaime's eyes
after all-”
“Enough!” Tywin glared at the younger man and couldn't decided if he was angry
with Petyr for bringing the subject up or with the twins for causing this mess
in the first place, probably both. “Just see to getting Joffrey out.”
“Of course.”
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
 Night had fallen and the day was coming to an end but the only difference
Petyr could see was that he'd moved from his office at Lion and Stag
Enterprises to his home office, work had backed up with him having been away
for so long. He'd thankfully gotten through most of it by ten o'clock though
there was still a stack of paperwork left;   I'll do it tomorrow  he decided.
The dark-haired man had intended to go and find Sansa after that but his phone
rang and that was how he found himself talking to Tyrion Lannister a total of
twenty minutes later.
 Sansa sat out in the hall just beside his office door that was open a crack,
Copper  was in her arms and she waited patiently for his call to finish. The
redhead had donned one of the more simple dresses he had gotten for her, this
one was a pale lilac and came down to just above her knees in the form of a
pleated skirt, it had  embroidered lace from neckline to waist and Sansa looked
divine in it, or so her Master said. Flame red hair draped around her face as
she waited and Sansa absent-mindedly tucked it behind her ear.
“... I really wasn't expecting to hear from you.” She heard her Master say into
the telephone. “I thought Tyrion Lannister had run off to Dorne to hide and
wasn't coming back.” There was a pause while the other person said something
and then Petyr started to laugh. “Well, Oberyn Martell would say that. But are
you certain you want to come back? I mean, Cersei still has you on her kill
list.” There was another pause, this time shorter than the last. “Very well,
we'll see how everything blows up when you get here. You Lannisters always
making things hard for me.”
The conversation went on for a few moments more before they said their goodbyes
and Petyr set his phone down.
“Come on in, Sweetling. Don't just sit in the doorway.”
Sansa had been caught and she felt a spark of fear in the back of her head
saying  he's really going to hit you this time,  but the redhead chose to
ignore it and went into his office where she came face to face with her Master.
All the hours he'd been hard at work and yet his hair and suit were still as
immaculate as when he'd left the house that morning.
“Sansa wasn't listening, Master.” She told him quickly, Copper hanging loosely
from her right hand.
“Yes you were... but not intentionally.” Petyr sighed and added absent-
mindedly. “The things I do for that little lion.”
Suddenly Sansa let out a whimper and pressed Copper to her chest, Baelish's
head shot up to look at her.
“What's wrong?” He asked with genuine concern. “Come here.”
The girl obeyed and once she was close enough let her Master pull her onto his
lap just like she had been at The Mockingbird. His ego smiled at having such a
beautiful girl perched on his knee.
“Come on, tell your Master what's wrong.”
Hesitantly Sansa began to speak in a stutter.
“Don't... like... lions.” She took a breath to steady herself. “Last Master
said... Sansa would be fed... to them.”
Petyr sighed, just when he thought she was making such progress he uttered the
word lionand it all came tumbling down. He held her tight.
 “There's nothing for you to worry about, Sweetling.” He began in a soothing
tone. “And besides you've got Copper to protect you... and me.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” It was a vow. “Which is saying something for me, I'm hardly ever
truthful. You're the exception.”
 Master and pet sat quietly for a time, his warmth acting as a comfort to her.
Petyr's mind couldn't help but wander though, his thoughts filled with memories
of Tyrion Lannister and what had happened,   she should know   his mind told
him but Baelish had no idea how she'd react.   Better to tell her now that
destroy her faith in you later. He had to tell her, had to.
“Sansa,” He sighed. “I'm going to tell you something and you're not going to
like it. Cry if you need to, I'm here okay?”
“Yes Master.” Sansa answered cautiously and Petyr took a breath before telling
his tale.
“Tywin Lannister, your old Master's grandfather, not only runs Lion and Stag
Enterprises but a highly illegal criminal empire; weapons, drugs, human
trafficking. Many years ago Lion and Stag was two separate companies; Lannister
Incorporated and Baratheon Limited, the two merged when Tywin married his
daughter Cersei off to Robert Baratheon. They argued about the name for weeks
until the decided on Lion and Stag, it came from the paper headers of each
company. Anyway, after a while Robert became suspicious of Tywin and what he
was doing, Robert went to your father, Eddard Stark, for help. As a police
detective he was the best option, Ned, Robert and eventually Tyrion Lannister
started to build a case against Tywin in secret, not even the police knew Ned
was gathering information because Tywin has most of them in his back pocket.
Because the girls he was bringing in had started to mess with my brothel I
helped them too. Somehow Cersei found out and before she even thought to tell
her father she had all of them killed and the evidence destroyed, Robert was
first his death made to look like a hunting accident. Next was your family
after that I realised what she was doing and managed to get Tyrion sent off to
Dorne. I was the only one she didn't know about, I always hide my involvement
in everything. If I'd known earlier... Sansa there was nothing I could do, it
happened so fast.” He needed her to know that. “Afterwards I barely got Tyrion
out and with the fire no I didn't know you were missing, no one did.”
 He wasn't going to tell her of the fire, wouldn't tell her that after her
family had been murdered they'd piled the bodied together and burnt them and
her home to the ground.    Sansa was crying softly to herself and Petyr pulled
her to his chest and nestled the wolf toy under her chin so she'd have
something to cry into.
“But I promise you now, I will destroy them. For you. For your Mother. I
willprotect you.”
 Sansa sniffled before managing to voice words.
 “Master, is... too good to... Sansa.”
 “No, Sweetling.” He rested his head against her shoulder. “I'm not good
enough.”
***** The Power Of A Touch *****
The day had finally come for Joffrey Baratheon to return to Lion and Stag
Enterprises and all Petyr wanted to do was slit the blonde bastard's throat the
second he stepped off the elevator; he wanted Joffrey to suffer like Sansa had
and he wanted Cersei to feel the pain of losing a child just like Catelyn.
Petyr watched from the sidelines as his mother and the lower staff fussed over
him and he knew that the other staff were only doing it because they feared
Cersei's wrath. He spotted Varys in his peripheral vision approach him from his
own office and come to a stop beside him.
“The prodigal son returns to the pit of chaos.” He said as he leaned against
Petry's office door.
“Chaos isn't a pit, chaos is a ladder. Only the ladder is real. The climb is
all there is.”
“That face, I know that face. You're plotting something.” Varys accused with a
sideways glance.
“You should know me by now; I'm always plotting something.” Petyr's trademark
smirk coated his face. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to.”
With that Petyr vanished back into his office.
Petyr pushed thoughts of the golden lions from his mind while he worked, he
just wanted some peace and that was what he did for a good three hours, he
didn't even get up for coffee; Petyr just worked away quietly until he couldn't
bear it any longer. His mind nagged at him and eventually Baelish gave up and
called Sansa, only he had the number to that phone and she answered on the
second ring with a polite  hello Master.  Petyr felt his ego grin at the title.
“Hello, Sweetling. I just wanted to make sure you're alright." Petyr tried to
keep his tone light.
“Sansa is fine, Master.” He could hear her smiling through the phone. “Sansa
learnt a new word, Master.”
“Oh? And what would that be?” He was genuinely curious, Sansa was thankful for
that.
“Am... ambivalence.” She answered.
“Can you put it into a sentence for me?”
 Petyr worried for moment that he sounded like a teacher but quickly brushed it
aside   when his redhead started to respond.
“... Sansa had ambivalence about Master at first...” There was silence for a
moment. “... Sansa didn't need to worry though, Master is kind and good.”
 No one had ever had so much faith in Petyr Baelish   and if he was being a
hundred percent honest it shocked him for a split second.   This girl just kept
on surprising him, and Petyr hadn't been surprised in so very long.
“I'm glad to hear it, and well done, Sweetling.” He heard her smile again. “I'm
going to bring take out for dinner. I can't...” Petyr paused for a moment as
his office door was unceremoniously thrown open and the incestuous moron
swaggered into the room. Baelish continued. “... be bothered to cook.”
“Okay, Master.”
“I have to go, Sweetling. I'll see you later.” Petyr listened to her bye
Masterbefore hanging up and turning his attention to Joffrey. “Can I help you?”
 “I want my things back.” The brat announced flatly as if Petyr had stolen
everything he owned.
What?  Baelish thought.   No thank you for moving a dead prostitute out of your
bed? Of course not, you don't have enough brain power for that.
 “I'll bring everything over tomorrow night.” Petyr responded just as flatly
turning his attention back to his computer monitor.
“No, you'll do it today, I want my things.” His face erupted with a pathetic
smirk. “Dinner with your Sweetlingwill have to wait.”
 “Fine.” Petyr tried to sound as though he couldn't care less. “And she's my
niece, her name is Alayne.”
“Youhave a niece?”
 “I do.” The answer was smooth and unrehearsed.
“Whatever.” Joffrey sneered. “Just get me my stuff. At least you managed to get
that, didn't bring me my play thing though did you?”
 Petyr wanted to launch over his black desk and throttle the boy to death but
he restrained himself.  Don't let them know what's in your mind.
“She was dead when I got there, I'm good but I can't bring back the dead.”
“I think dead whore's are best left where they are. I can get a new one.”
 Seconds later the blonde stormed out the room just as abruptly as he'd entered
leaving Gwendolyn to close Petyr's office door behind him.  Finally some peace.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
 Petyr got home a lot later than he'd intended   however it was with Chinese
take out in hand, so he counted it as a win.  Despite the light he'd just
switched on in the vestibule his home was dark.
“Sansa?” He called but there was no reply.
 Petyr set the heavenly food scented bag down on his glass coffee table and
then looked around the house but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Sansa?”
 He called again but still no answer came, she wasn't in the library or her
bedroom, not even his study where he'd often found her curled up on late
nights. Finally, just as worry started to take up his mind Petyr noticed the
patio doors, they were ajar. The dark-haired man stepped out into the night and
walked the five minute trip to the cliff edge where he found Sansa sat looking
out over the sea, her stuffed wolf by her side and her feet dangling over the
edge into oblivion. She was wearing the green dress he had bought her what
seemed like forever ago and he couldn't help but notice just how well it fit
her, emeralds draped over milk white skin. The moonlight shone its silver rays
down on her and Sansa was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, a
goddess; Frigg, Amaterasu, Hera, Idunn, Kisshōten, Athena, Isis, all of them
rolled into one. An celestial deity and he was the demon to her angel.
“Hello Sweetling.” He greeted, Sansa jumped in surprise but quickly fell to
ease again and turned, it was then he saw the art book in her hands. “That's
beautiful”
 The redhead carefully pulled the page free of her art book and held it up to
him, Petyr dropped to sit beside her on the cliff edge before taking the
offered paper. Waves crashed softly far below them, a symphony to their ears.
Stormy eyes stared down at the page, the image was amazing, so well drawn and
with great detail. It was a landscape of the far off cliffs as they curved out
of sight and the silver moon hanging in the sky; despite the lack of color
Petyr could see the depth and the gorgeous rays of the moon.
“Sansa drew it for Master.” She didn't look at him.
“Thank you, Sweetling. I love it.” He paused for a moment to take another look
at the drawing. “I'm sorry that I'm late.”
He'd come by at lunch to pick up Joffrey's crap and make her lunch, but then
there had been one thing after another, being away for so long had certainly
increased his work load.
“I brought dinner though, shall we go inside and eat? I don't want you getting
cold.”
“Yes Master.”
Sansa wasted no time gathering up her things, gathering them all into one arm
before letting Petyr take her hand and guide his girl into the house. With a
single gesture Petyr had his girl sitting on the couch while he fetched plates,
chopsticks and a fork for her.
“I may have gone a little over the top.” Sansa watched her kind Master as he
took several boxes out of the bag and set them all out on the coffee table
almost as though it were some kind of indoor picnic. “I didn't know what you
liked so I just sort of got everything. Help yourself, Sweetling. There's rice,
shredded beef, squid.” To be honest there was too much to list. “Tuck in.”
While Sansa helped herself cautiously to the food Petyr picked up his rarely
used television remote and started to flick through the plethora of channels.
Sansa's voice pulled the dark-haired man out of his channel surfing world.
“What's Green Lantern, Master?”
“A movie that should never have been made.” He answered quickly and without
looking up. “Shall I look to see if there is anything about wolves, like
Copper?”
Sansa nodded happily and Petyr soon found a documentary dedicated to her
beloved wolves. Petyr couldn't help but think about how domestic they looked
together sat in front of the television mounted to his wall above the
fireplace,  just like a normal couple. There was nothing normal about the two
of them though. After a time Master noticed his girl watching him out the
corner of her eye, or more specifically his hands and what was in them.
“They're called chopsticks. You use them to eat.”
 With a smile Petyr set his plate down and guided the thin pieces of wood into
her hands, in a few short instructions Sansa held the chopsticks softly in her
hand and picked up a piece of chicken... then promptly dropped it back onto her
plate. Petyr laughed. They tried a few more times but she always dropped the
meat shortly before getting it close enough to consume. Sansa pouted, eyes cast
down onto the plate. It was only then that Petyr realised just how close he'd
gotten to the stunning redhead.    Before his mind knew what his hands were
doing Petyr had taken    the plate and chopsticks from her soft hands and set
them down on the table, less than a second later his palms were pressed to her
cheeks and Petyr's lips were on her own. She tasted sweet, that was his first
thought before going back in for another kiss, her taste was almost
intoxicating and he just couldn't help himself. Petyr pushed her down softly
against the couch his weight shifting to cover hers while he knocked her knees
apart. That was when it all fell apart, Sansa's breathing quickened in fear and
her eyes clamped shut with horror, she was hyperventilating,    air moved
rapidly in and out of her lungs almost like inhaling fire. Suddenly Petyr's
mind snapped back to him and he jumped back like a man being electrocuted.
“I'm sorry. Sansa, I'm sorry. I won't hurt you, I won't.”
Her Master slipped off the couch and crouched down beside her, eyes still shut
as she lay on the couch.
“Sansa's sorry Master. Sansa will be quiet and still.” Her voice shook.
“What?” He was shocked, Petyr was actually shocked. “No. Sansa I promised you
that no one would ever hurt you again, and that includes me.” He sighed. “It's
just you're so beautiful... but that's no excuse.”
“Sansa... wants to please Master.” She stuttered.
“No, Sweetling. That's not how it works. You're more than something to fuck.”
The two sat quietly for a time that could have been anywhere from five minutes
to an hour, Petyr just stroking her soft red hair gently. When he finally spoke
breaking the silence it was as though it was the only sound in the room. “Come
on, bedtime for you I think. You'll feel better after some sleep.”
Silently Sansa allowed her Master to fill his arms with her and carry his girl
up the stairs and into the small bedroom he'd long ago dubbed  Sansa's room,
once inside he set her down and passed the young girl the shirt of his that
she'd been sleeping in. Quietly she took the folded black fabric and put it on
in place of her dress. Petyr knew that after what had just happened he
shouldn't be in the room with her... but he wasn't a good man and so he let
himself watch subtly.    He helped her with the bottom button that she couldn't
quite get to shut and then guided the girl into bed for some   much  needed
sleep.
“I want you to try sleeping all night in the bed tonight, okay Sweetling?”
Sansa nodded, she'd obey his request rather than crawling under the bed again.
“You know your Master's sorry right?”
“Yes Master.” The redhead muttered.
“Don't just yes Masterme because you think it's what I want to hear. You knowI
didn't mean to hurt you right?”
 Petyr Baelish cared very little for what people thought of him, as long as he
got what he wanted Petyr didn't much care, Sansa was different; for some reason
he cared about what she thought of him.
“Sansa knows, Master. Master is kind... is good.” She answered a little more
firmly.
 “You're the only one who thinks that, Sweetling.”
Petyr turned to flick off the light and leave his girl in peace but that never
came to fruition   as the angelic voice of Sansa Stark filled the room once
more.
 “Would... would Master stay with Sansa?” She sat cross-legged in the bed with
her hands around Copper in her lap and her eyes on her feet. “Just until Sansa
falls asleep?”
How could he possibly say  no  to that? However, he couldn't quite believe that
after what had happened downstairs on his couch and what that kiss had forced
her to remember, that she'd want him with her. Still he couldn't refuse those
blue eyes, even though they never met his green-grey ones.
 “Does this mean you forgive me?” He asked and Sansa nodded. “Then of course,
Sweetling. I'll stay with you.”
 Petyr tugged of his black pants and tossed them onto the light wood set of
draws by the window before doing the same with his shirt and climbing onto the
bed beside his darling Sansa. The girl lay down on her side with Copper pulled
to her chest and Petyr just couldn't resist, he had to touch her. A strong arm
slipped around her shirt clad waist.
She truly does make me different.
***** Pleasure Will Burn Out The Pain *****
 Almost two months had passed since Sansa asked him to stay with her until she
fell asleep and Petyr felt like he'd aged ten years in that short time, not
because of Sansa but because of Joffrey. It seemed the small minded twit still
blamed him for the so-called suicide of his slave,    imagine how much worse it
would get if he knew Sansa was alive.    Petyr sat in one of The Mockingbird's
private rooms watching the audition for a new girl, Olyvar was to his left and
Ros was standing in as the girl's client. The new olive skinned woman made way
to much noise and Littlefinger felt a headache coming on.
“No,  no, no, no. Is that what they teach you in the North? And Ros, you should
know better. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?” Anything
Littlefinger intended to say next was interrupted by a knock at the door, he
sighed.
With a quick glance he sent Olyvar to answer the door. Oly pulled the door open
with an expectant look on his face to find Jeremy, one of the favoured men at
The Mockingbird along with Mads of course. The spiky haired brunette muttered
something before the door was closed and the blonde returned to his seat beside
Littlefinger.
“Boss, only half of the bar stock has shown up again.”
 Petyr sighed.
“Fantastic. I've had just about enough of this shit. We're using a different
fucking company.”
With that the club owner vanished out the door in the direction Jeremy had left
in, leaving Ros and Olyvar alone with the new recruit, Oly thought her name
Melody but he couldn't be sure; to him her name was unimportant.
“Get yourself off.” Said Ros as she wrapped her naked form in a white silk robe
and sat where her boss had been not thirty seconds ago.
The girl, Melody, obeyed but the blonde and redhead seemed to pay little to no
attention instead they started their own conversation.
“Have you noticed anything different about the boss? You know, since that girl
showed up?” Oly asked.
“Oh yeah.” Ros began. “You actually got to meet her, what's she like?” There
was a smile on her red lips and the blonde shrugged.
“Like a scared teenage bunny rabbit who likes to let Baelish be her  Daddy. ”
“Really?” The woman's smile grew along with Melody's moans.
 “He certainly has an effect on redheads doesn’t he? You, Alayne and Lysa Arryn
keeps throwing yourselves at him.” Oly wore a smile of pure smugness.
“Lysa Arryn will throw herself at anything with money and a cock.” Ros bit out
dismissively.
 “Littlefinger is her main target though, she's like a Baelish seeking
missile.”
 “Guess so, anyway, whose this Alayne person?” Ros glanced up at Melody who
seemed pretty close to her climax. “I keep hearing tell of her.”
“Oh that's Daddy's little girl. The sexy teenage redhead's name.”
“Alayne huh? Cute.”
“Have the two of you had a deep and meaningful conversation about Alayne or
shall I leave you alone a little longer?”
Olyvar and Ros jumped and spun around to find Littlefinger had silently re-
entered the room and was stood waiting for an answer with a raised eyebrow.
“No, boss. I think were done.” Said Oly with a gulp.
“Good.”
It was then that Melody decided to cum, filling the room with a loud scream,
really sounds ridiculous.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
Once everything was wrapped up at his brothel, nightclub to the police, Petyr
was forced to head over to Lion and Stag for the Havisham Construction finance
report, it had to be faxed and he'd forgotten the night before; Petyr didn't
often forget things but it did happen on occasion. The Havisham report had been
finished on his home office desk days before and had just sat there ever since.
With a Gwendolyn fax this for me  it was done and Petyr could relax again.
The report hadn't been the only object filling his hands though and so he went
into his office to find it the perfect spot for it. At first he'd thought about
putting it on the small   black coffee table by his full length window but upon
seeing just how much sun that little table was exposed to Petyr decided it
wasn't the place for Sansa's now framed drawing.
“The desk it is then.” He mused aloud.
 Petyr hadn't ever really been sentimental but he wanted Sansa's gift close by
and it looked stunning   there where he could see it each and every time he
looked up from paperwork.   The frame was the same color as her eyes   and it
somewhat stood out against his black office but without being lurid; anyone who
saw it there would think he'd let a weakness show but that would only work in
his favour. Petyr ran a hand through his perfectly combed and greying hair
before the office door clicked open and Gwendolyn popped her head in, blonde
braid swinging over her shoulder.
“I've sent it over sir, would you like to keep the Master copy or shall I file
it?”
 Baelish turned to face his   assistant with a smile that didn't reach his eyes
before speaking.
“File it, thank you Gwendolyn. I'll be working from home for the rest of the
day so once you've filed it and you're finished doing whatever it was I
interrupted, you can just go home.”
 “Thank you, Mister Baelish. I was hoping to get back to my son a little
early.”
 With that she was out of his office once more. Petyr had never really cared
much about the little personal comments Gwendolyn would put at the end of her
sentences but that didn't mean he didn't lock all the information away for
later. Gwendolyn was twenty-six and hated the nickname   Gwen, her hair was
long and died light blonde though her eyebrows gave away  their   natural
auburn. Her voice was always cheerful no matter her mood and she didn't
constantly try to drag him into conversation, Petyr    appreciated that. The
son she spoke of was a four-year old named Lukas, he was highly autistic but
Gwendolyn and the boy's father did everything they could to take care of him
and it was the reason Baelish admired his assistant; of course Petyr would
never voice that particular belief.
Petyr stood a while in thought before mentally shaking himself and turning to
leave, at that very second his cellphone started to ring. Petyr sighed.
“Yes?” He said demandingly.
Baelish listened as an address and number of dead was listed off to him, seemed
Petyr needed to perform his other occupation. That was just what he did, Petyr
went and cleaned up other people's mess just like he always did, everyone
thought they controlled him but they were far from the truth; he pulled the
strings without the puppet having any idea of his involvement.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
When Petyr had finished cleaning up he'd gone straight to his boat to get rid
of the bodies, the sharks had been particularly hungry that evening. The sun
balance     d      on the rim of the world and a hush       had descended
leaving the evening quiet and lit with a fading orange glow. Clouds hung high
in the sky blotting out the silver stars but Petyr ra      rely      watched
the stars, there was too much going on down on earth.
“    Hello Sweetling.” He called out when he stepped into the purple vestibule.
No response came though. “Sansa?” Still nothing.
   Petyr poked his head into the living room to look at the patio doors but
they were still shut which meant that she was still in the house.        He
didn't need to go searching for her, Petyr had trust in the young woman; which
didn't happen very often.       His clothes clung to him after the long day of
moving bodies, he reeked of ocean water      and foul cologne from his shark
food.     I really need to change,      Italian leather clad feet carried him
up the dark stairs and into his bedroom where he shredded the shirt quickly,
seconds later his shoes were toed off and put back in their assigned place. He
stretched feeling his muscles loosen under his lightly tanned skin, but that
was where he paused.
“Why is my bathroom light on?” He asked himself.
 Petyr pushed the dark wooden door open with an air of curiosity only to find
his little redhead sat on the tiled floor with a wet cloth held over her foot,
crimson dotted the floor. He dropped to his knees in an instant, a look of
concern coating his face and wiped away one of Sansa's stray tears.
“Sansa what happened?”
 There was a deep gash on the sole of her left foot that leaked wine colored
blood down onto the white tiles.
“Sansa is sorry Master.” Did she really think he was angry with her? “Sansa is
stupid-”
“Don't say that!” He said more forcefully than he'd intended and he saw the way
her body tensed up at his tone, Littlefinger calmed his tone before speaking
again. “You're anything but  stupid,  Sweetling.”   He sighed and looked back
down to her bleeding foot. “Now, what happened?”
Hesitantly his girl began to tell him her tale.
“Sansa was outside, Master. She stood on a sharp rock.”
The redhead did her best not to stumble over her words; he'd only ever yelled
at her once before and it had terrified her then too.
 “This is why I ask you to ware your shoes out there.” He told her with a
smile, Sansa opened her mouth to let a string of apologies fall out but he
started to speak before anything was voiced. “Let's get this cleaned up shall
we?”
 Sansa nodded and watcher her Master stand out the corner of her eye, she
always watched him   but never really  looked  at him; it was above her
station. She wasn't worthy to look at his shoes let alone his face. Petyr
retrieved some gauze and iodine from his bathroom cabinet before sitting down
on the floor beside the only living Stark,   there was blood on her fingers
where she'd dabbed at her open wound and he found himself wiping it away with
one of his towels before he'd even registered that he'd moved. He worked in
silence save for the  this is going to sting  warning he gave her as the iodine
was used, her face scrunched up at that spark of pain but she made no sound;
Petyr didn't know whether to be proud or concerned at that. Soon enough her
foot was clean and bandaged neatly, the wound was deep but not so bad that it
needed stitches.
“All done.” He said before leaning down and pressing a soft and gentle kiss to
her pale ankle, Sansa had never experienced something so... so... Sansa didn't
even know the word. “That's my baby girl.”
 Joffrey would have never done something so caring or degrading, she was
nothing,   trash,  and yet her new Master had kissed her foot, if anyone should
be kissing feet then Sansa should have kissed his.   He's the Master, Sansa is
just a pet.
“Come here.”
 Sansa obeyed the light command and shuffled closer to the older man, as soon
as she was close enough Petyr pulled her into his lap and held her; she wasn't
accustom to such gentle touches but she did enjoy them. Sansa felt safe in his
arms, which was a feeling that was all too uncommon.
“Are you hungry?” He asked.
“No Master.” Her voice was quiet but not out of fear.
“I'll put you to bed then, it's late and you need your sleep.”
 Before Sansa could make a move he was on his feet with Sansa in his arms
bridal style, Joffrey had never carried her just pulled her along behind him
via her fire-red hair. She was so light in his arms,  much too thin, but at
least he could no longer feel her bones through battered purple and yellow
skin. He couldn't help but notice that she smelt like the sea, no doubt from
her time spent outside, what surprised him was when he found himself leaning in
closer to her hair to better scent the ocean. Petyr set her down in her fluffy
bed and pulled the lilac sheets up over her thin frame, he bent down to kiss
her pale forehead before reaching for the lamp on her night table. Her voice
filled the darkness.
 “Would Master stay with Sansa?” There was an air of pleading to her voice.
“Of course.”
What man would turn down spending an evening with Sansa, even if it was only to
hold her? Baelish stripped off his black suit pants, the only clothing he still
wore other than his purple boxers, and clambered into bed beside his darling
girl. He watched as Sansa sat up and pulled off her yellow bra from underneath
the old shirt he'd gifted her, he let an eyebrow of interest raise. She was so
beautiful, now the horrible bruises Joffrey-fucking-Baratheon had caused were
gone she was utterly stunning... and he wanted her. Almost six months she'd
been with him and she grew more confident every day, Petyr Baelish had never
been so proud of anyone in his life; that didn't change how much he wantedher,
in fact it probably increased it. He watched her for a long time before he lost
his internal battle and couldn't help but hold her tight pressing her back to
his chest, she was smooth and warm as though she'd been carved from living
marble; his hand wandered without permission. Calloused fingers of his tattooed
arm trailed down her tiny hip to her thigh, toying with the hem of her night
shirt before taking the leap and moving to the soft skin of her thigh. Absent-
mindedly he started to draw little patterns while Petyr breathed in more of
that ocean scent. He wanted her so badly but there was another voice in his
head reminding him of just how traumatised she was, how scared and self-
loathing; she's been raped countless times for Christ's sakeand yet his
conniving hands continued to linger where they shouldn't. Her skin was so soft.
 “Would Master like Sansa to be still?”
The question hit him like a freight train and all movement ground to a halt,
he'd thought she was asleep. Despite the question his little evil mind smiled,
the thought of being on top of her, inher was just too thought provoking.
“No Sweetling.” Petyr sighed into the dark. “Sansa I have a confession to make.
I know a good man wouldn't touch you, would never even think about it, but I'm
not a good man and I just can't resist you any longer.” His hand tried to
remain still. “But I'm also not a monster so I'm going to make this all about
you.I'm going to make you cum.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.
“Girls don't do that.” She mumbled assuredly to herself but he still heard her.
 “Oh trust me Sansa, they do.”
 He grinned, partly because of what she said but mainly because she didn't seem
scared of him. Petyr gave her a moment to refuse or break down in tears but
none of that happened, in fact, he felt her body relax. That was all the
encouragement his evil little mind needed, before Petyr was fully aware that
his body was moving he'd thrown the soft sheets off and settled between Sansa's
perfect thighs. He pushed the thin fabric of her shirt up revealing her yellow
panties to his hungry green-grey eyes, Sansa instinctively tried to close her
thighs but her Master's body lay in the way.
“Do you trust me, Little One?”
No one in their right mind would or shouldtrust him, but Sansa did. Being
chained to that bed for as long as she could remember had numbed her heart and
almost completely silenced her thoughts but this man, this sarcastic, funny,
kind, loophole finding man had given her freedom from that; he'd broken her
chains and given her a new life. Sansa no longer called herself petor whoreor
slutshe was Sansa Stark and that was something she'd almost forgotten, so yes,
the redhead trusted him. She trusted him with everything she had, because if it
wasn't for Petyr Baelish Sansa would still be chained to Joffrey's bed as
nothing more than a shell of something that was once a human being used as a
sex toy.
“Yes Master.”
“Good girl. Then let your Master teach you about pleasure.”
 She felt his breath on her heated skin and it tingled, no one but him had ever
touched her with such care, she was nervious but pushed away the part of her
mind telling her to scream and panic. Her eyes had long since adjusted to the
darkness of night and she watched as he licked his lips and lowered his head
towards the place that men had only ever caused her pain in.  Was that his
tongue?! Sansa's mind was startled, not out of fear but of uncertainty; she'd
never experience anything like this before. Petyr felt her tense so pressed his
palms to her legs as a sign of comfort.
 “Relax, Sweetling. No more pain, I promise.”
 Petyr meant it, it was a moonlit vow that Sansa knew he'd keep. The redhead
did her best to relax for her Master but the niggling voice in the back of her
head screamed  don't trust him! He'll hurt you! He lying! Pain! But there was
another voice behind the screaming one that she would much rather listen to, it
was a voice she'd never heard before,  Master cares about you. It'll feel good.
Pleasure.  That was the voice Sansa was going to listen to, that was the one
that trusted Master.
 His tongue circled her sex, something Sansa had never experience before and it
sent waves of...   something  through her; like a rock being tossed into a
river. The girl with azure eyes had no idea how to react, what was she allowed
to do? Without warning or permission her head fell back against the silk
pillows and her legs spread further, his hand came up to her core and carefully
a finger entered her.
“Master!” She gasped.
It was the single greatest thing Sansa had ever felt, breath coming in pants,
heart thudding in her chest. Just as promised there was no pain, only the
pleasure he spoke of.
 “You taste so good Sansa. So good.” As if to prove it his tongue dipped into
her wet core and then up to the little bundle of nerves sucking hungrily. “Make
as much noise as you want, Sweetling. I want to hear you.”
Hormones surged through Sansa shutting down her higher brain and giving way to
the rise of her animal self. Each touch was like divine fire that Sansa felt
she wasn't worthy of, but as long as her Master was willing to show her
pleasure Sansa would take it with glee.
She tasted so sweet, so addictive that he though she should be illegal. He
could feel her heartbeat race as her smooth milky hips rocked up to meet his
mouth. Her fists clenched the sheets and he grinned as his tongue slipped
inside her wet core. Petyr was the first to do this to her, the first to taste
her and give his darling girl pleasure; his ego surged.
Sansa couldn't speak or think, all the evil and painful memories were washed
away leaving only the fire between her legs that threatened to erupt at any
second. The redhead had never imagined anything could feel this good, she'd
guessed it felt that way for men, that was why they did it, but she'd never
imagined anything could feel like this. Moans and pants slipped from her lips
without permission and they just seemed to spur him on, almost like her juices
waltzed on his tongue. Something built and built like a volcano ready to erupt.
“Hands in my hair not the sheets.”
It was the first time he'd ever given her a real order but the girl didn't seem
to notice, white fingers released the sheets and moved to his perfectly placed
greying hair messing it up; her legs fell further open letting her Master
ravage her. His grip on her thigh was tight and would certainly leave bruising
but neither cared in that moment, Sansa's lungs couldn't find enough air as the
edge came into view. It was steep and slippery at the top, Sansa knew she could
fall so easily, but would that edge lead to death or bliss?
“Master, Sansa...”
What? Feel s strange? Is going to explode? Going to die? The redhead had no
idea how to explain the heat ablaze in her belly.
“Cum for your Master.” He commanded, tongue moving rapidly over that sensitive
bundle of nerves.
 Sansa nearly forgot how to breath, two fingers pushed into her wet heat    and
crooked, that was all Sansa could take. She didn't know how but her body seemed
to know what her Master had ordered, she came. Hard. Fast. The world turned
white like a bomb had gone off behind her eyes.
“Master!”
 Petyr pulled back just so he could watch her body wriggle and contort in utter
euphoria, lips parted with an unvoiced moan. Her flaming hair hung around her
face giving his girl the sense of glowing and he'd never seen anything so
beautiful in all his life. Petyr had loved Catelyn, at least he thought he had
up until that moment looking down at Sansa, maybe that was just what a teenage
boy had thought was love, because it didn't come close to what he felt for the
girl purring with pleasure beneath him.
 Baelish couldn't help but palm his erection as he watched Sansa's chest rise
and fall while her azure eyes rolled back in her head. The black leather belt
clicked open with ease and his hand slipped inside quickly to the point of
desperation,    Petyr's hand was wet with his girl's juices as he took a firm
grip  on his hard member. His green-grey orbs  took in her sweat coated
body,ears taking in the blissful moans, until his   long stroke were too much
and his eyes fluttered shut; they burst open again when he felt Sansa move.
“Sansa wants to help.” She told him, cerulean locked on his length.
“I said this party was all about you.” He smiled, hand never stilling. “I can
take care of myself at the after party.”
 He may have been conniving and   bad but that didn't mean he'd push her more
than he already had.
“Sansa is for pleasing her Master.”
Petyr's brow furrowed.
“Sweetling, please stop referring to yourself in third person. You're a human
being not a thing,and no that's not your job. Plus you're killing the mood.”
His breathing was thick.
No matter how many times I tell her, she still thinks she's my slave.  The
greying man made to stand from the bed but Sansa's voice halted him.
 “Can Sansa do it anyway?”
 The question was so full of hope that Petyr had to admit he was a little
surprised, she couldn't possibly have asked out of want so he   decided to test
her, a test he knew she'd fail.
“Why?”
Silence. Cold, dead silence. He knew her normal response would be  because it's
Sansa's job   or something along those lines. There was silence for a long time
and Petyr waited patiently for her to come up with something, the way she bit
her lip while thinking kept him from fully softening.
“Because Sansa...” She paused, clearly what she was trying to say was unnatural
to her. “... because Iwant to, Master.”
 Petyr grinned ear to ear, she used   I  and had let herself want something.
Her struggled to get the words out told him she wasn't just saying it because
she thought it was what he wanted to hear and for that reason Petyr couldn't be
more proud.
“Say that again, but only if you mean it.”
“... I want to, Master.”
 Baelish knew he shouldn't but after that he just couldn't help himself. His
knees hit the bed and he leaned back on his haunches, his cock growing to full
hardness again at just the memory of her words. Sansa smiled to herself and
sprang into action, there was no fear left in her, almost as though she'd
forgotten Joffrey existed. Petyr gasped.    The redhead's talented tongue
swirled around the head tasting the bead of pre-cum before taking him into her
mouth and sucking hungrily. When his mind came back to him he'd wonder if he
should be ashamed, the first time the girl had done something for herself and
he'd gotten a blowjob out of it, soon after Petyr would decide he didn't care
because the wetness of her mouth was just too good.    His hips didn't thrust
deep into her throat like Joffrey would have but there was no way he could
still   his hips; she felt so good around him.  Did he feel like this when he
was the one using his mouth? She wondered quietly. His fingers were in her long
red hair grazing against her scalp  sending sparks through her thin form.
“That's my baby girl.” He praised. “You are undeniably perfect.”
 No one had ever called Sansa perfect before and she couldn't deny the sense of
happiness it gave her. Petyr let his stormy eyes flutter shut and it was then
that he knew... he'd   never  give Sansa up.   She  was  his now, all  his.
“Sansa I'm gonna...” He never got to finish what he was saying. “Sansa!”
H  is seed filled her mouth and for the first time in her life Sansa didn't
feel disgusting and like she was going to throw up.   She swallowed   as much
as she could and wiped her mouth of what remained, she's spat Joffrey's seed
out once and faced   the consequences   but with Petyr she did it out of
wanting to hear his moan again; she got it.
They made each other happy.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
He woke hours later to the darkness, the sun wouldn't rise for hours yes and
there was no strange noise, so why was he awake? Why was he staring up at the
ceiling? Then he felt his girls soft hand tracing along the tattoos that coated
his left arm, she had more or less sprawled across his body, having gone to
sleep cuddled up to his right side, with a single finger ghosting over the
designs. She hadn't noticed him wake so Petyr just watched her for a time with
a lazy half smile. There were many designs on the sleeve, some more important
than others but all had meaning to them, and it came to an end on his left
wrist in a simple thin black band. It was all in black and grey save for a
small air of purple that ran through the shading, the tattoo her fingers seemed
to favour was a large mockingbird sitting atop a branch over his shoulder as
though guarding the other tattoos.
“Master, what does I was born good but had grown pro... pro... progressively
worse every yearmean?”
Seemed she did know he was awake,  clever girl  , Petyr didn't question her on
it though he just rolled to his right so she had better access to his tattooed
arm.
“It's a quote from To Kill A Mockingbird,a book. My mother would read it to me
as a child and try to teach me with that line that on the inside everyone was
good, it was the things that had happened to them that made them do bad things.
For a time I believed her, but then I saw how evil some are and what I became.
Just because she believed it didn't make it true.”
 “You're not evil, Master.” Sansa told him adamantly. He'd never heard that
tone from her before.
“But I'm not good either. You know that mockingbird pin I ware?” She nodded.
“It was hers, I remember very little about her but she was a good mother, I
remember that much.”
Sansa realised her Master didn't like the subject and tried to move on to a
different tattoo, this time a flower over his elbow. Petyr didn't seem like the
sort for a lily tattoo but Sansa supposed that they all had meaning.
“What's this one?”
“That's a Stargazer Lily. They were my Mother's favourite and her name.”
Sansa nearly kicked herself at that, it was probably the only other tattoo in
the sleeve he had for his mother and Sansa went straight to it. He didn't seem
to mind too much though, and the tattoo was beautiful with its delicate petals
of grey and black; almost as though it would fall apart if touched. There was
one thing on the sleeve that she was curious about though, and it wasn't a
tattoo, there was a small void on his forearm that looked like he'd walked away
before the sleeve was done.
“Why is there a gap?”
“Because I don't know what shoulder go there, Sweetling. Once something fills
it then the sleeve is finished but nothing ever seems right to complete it.
I've gotten to the point where I think I'll never find what should be there.”
“If you have an idea Sansa could draw them for you, Master.” She offered in a
sleepy voice.
“I'd like that, Sweetling. Now go to sleep.”
It didn't take long for Sansa to obey.
***** Man's Best Friend *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
She didn't remember being taken, being terrified, but not being taken. All
Sansa could remember clearly was the blood pooling around the dead bodies of
her family, they'd been planning on killing her too until a beautiful woman
with long blonde hair had insisted they take her as a pet for her 'little boy'.
The pain of being dragged up hard wooden stairs, tripping and falling over her
feet, to her Master's bedroom only remained in patches; of that night the sound
her collar had made when a boy only a few years older than herself had clicked
it on remained. The soul crushing tone of it jangling when the dark leather had
been forced around her neck. That was the first moment of her new life being
bound to her prison. After that she'd had nothing but pain, bruises and bloody
cuts.
Sansa bolted awake. A dream. Petyr Baelish, her new Master, had been nothing
but a fantasy. The leather was heavy around her neck and it stung, silver
moonlight drifted in through the window of Joffrey's bedroom illuminating her
cell. She thought of the man with stormy eyes, she'd known he was too good to
be true; No one had ever been kind to her and no one ever would.
Her heart froze, her eyes clamped shut as she heard his bedroom door open and
saw the dark leather of her Master's shoes step inside; he stumbled which meant
was drunk and angry. The blonde's pet tried to say quiet and hoped he'd just
pass out on the bed, it was the only wish she could have anymore. Joffrey's
feet came to a stop by the bed and his belt snapped open, this was not to be
one of the nights he just passed out. The chain was pulled taut closing her
throat and blocking out the air as he tugged her out of from her hiding place,
her vision blurred and her lungs cried out for oxygen. It stung like she was
coated in vicious wasps but the pet knew it was then least painful of what he'd
do. Her blonde Master had an aura around him of stale beer and what she'd come
to know was the smell of something he called 'weed'. Every laboured breath she
managed to pull in stank of the drug making her regret breathing in the first
place, the pet wished she could stop, permanently. Maybe death would be kinder
to her.
Long ago after her escape attempts had ended she'd wrapped the long chain
around her neck and pulled as hard as her fragile body could, just as the
darkness started to close in around her eyes and her body turned numb, that
single moment when the redhead thought she could be free Master had found her.
The chain had been shortened after that and her spine had been bruised for
weeks; impressions of Joffrey's shoes had littered her face and one eye had
swollen shut.
“Whore!” Her Master screamed. “You're filthy! Can't even clean up for your
Master!”
Sansa couldn't get three feet from Joffrey's bed let alone to the shower.
Everything was always her fault, done on purpose by her to anger Joffrey; that
was just what little sluts like her did.
“Think my little bitch needs to wash some of that filth off.”
Before she could even process that he'd yelled again the blonde teen pulled a
silver key from around his neck and released the padlock that bound the chain
to his bedpost, he wrapped the icy metal chain around his sticky hand and
started to tug her out the room. Hard wood burnt and squeaked as her thighs
scraped over floor leaving behind angry red marks and deep scratches that bled
a rich crimson. The bathroom was cold but the redhead couldn't tell, her body
had turned to solid ice long ago. Her head cracked against the porcelain
bathtub with such force that she thought he'd broken her skull for a moment,
the girl with pale skin's head rang like a bell had been struck. The noise of
water flooding into the white bath filled her ears causing the pain to
intensify. High pitched. Buzzing. Screeching. Nails on a chalkboard. The bath
filled quickly while Joffrey lit another cigarette and gifted the redhead with
another kick to her ribs.
“Ready for your bath? Hmm? Get some of that filth off you!”
With that Sansa felt the chain rip upwards pulling her up onto bruised knees
and forced her head under the water. In the movies drowning was always loud and
full of splashing, her hands clung to the white rim desperately fighting her
Master in need of air, it was strange Sansa was ready for death in mind yet her
body fought blindly. At first the lack of air was just uncomfortable but as
time ticked by her cells started to scream out in need and pressure built in
her head as though someone was squeezing it. Red hair shrouded her pale face
dancing the the water and in a way it was a blessing, a blessing that she got
to see some beauty as death closed in; teasing her.  It was then she began to
fall. F all further and further into the darkness until it threaten ed to
swallow her whole.
Sansa sat bolt up right in the dark, lungs gulping in air and sweat dripping
from her body like a waterfall. She shivered. It took a moment for her eyes to
adjust before Sansa realised that Petyr was beside her with his arms around her
damp shoulders.  He's real.
 “Shush, you're alright Sweetling. Everything's okay, I promise.”
 The words of comfort helped, if only to ground her to reality. Sansa forced
her breathing to calm to something that resembled normal, the air tasted so
good crisp and pure. She could hear him muttering sweet nothings in a desperate
attempt to help her, just another kindness he showed her.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
 Sansa shook her head profusely and Petyr didn't force her, she'd been
screaming in her sleep, begging for mercy, for air. It had horrified him, it
took a lot to frighten Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish but her screams had. In an
attempt to banish the memories from his mind Petyr stood from the bed and went
to his closet and pulled out a clean shirt for her to ware, the one Sansa was
in almost dripped with cold sweat. He undid her shirt buttons slowly so as not
to scare her and slipped it from her shoulders.
 “Thank... thank you...” Sansa stuttered.
 “Everything is going to be alright, Sweetling.”
 Soon enough the new light grey shirt was buttoned up while the old found
itself balled up and thrown in the general direction of the hamper. Masculine
arms snaked around his girl to hold her tight, if Sansa didn't want to talk
about her nightmare holding her was really all he could do; she was his to
protect.
“I'll make you some tea.”
 Petyr made to turn and leave the room but the sudden grip on his wrist kept
him in place.
 “No, Master please stay. Please don't leave Sansa alone.” She begged.
 “Alright, Sweetling.”
 He couldn't deny her, not his Sansa so he sat down on the bed and pulled her
close. She revealed in the warmth and comfort he offered her; pure peace. There
was a hush over the room for a long time, one of those quietudes that did more
than words ever could, just the two of them. Eventually that silence came to an
end with a smug smile and a kiss to her sweaty forehead.
“It's alright.” He said again. “ I'm your Master now and that means you'll
always have me.” Sansa smiled at his words, he was the only thing to ever make
her smile. “I've been thinking... you belong to me now, then I'm your Master.
YourMaster. Which means I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”
Sansa stared down at the bed sheets with a confused expression coating her
face, she seemed to have forgotten about her nightmare and he knew the little
cogs in her head were turning trying to figure out what he meant; Sansa had
never had anything belong to her. She must have worked something out in her
head though because he saw her smile after a moment. Petyr had always thought
love was weakness, a distraction, but with Sansa he was beginning to think it
could be strength.  When the hell did I start thinking love?
“Sansa deserves nothing of Master.” She told him quietly.
“Well tough because you have me.” There was silence for a second until he added
with a smile. “And I'm your Master so what I say goes.”
 Sansa just continued to smile softly.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
 It was two in the afternoon when Joffrey Baratheon stormed into Baelish's
office at Lion and Stag, cellphone in one hand and a half drunk cup of coffee
in the other. Petyr knew it wasn't going to be good the second he'd looked up;
the blonde only ever came to his office when he wanted something.
“Kaegan has something that needs cleaning up, I said you'd be there in twenty
minutes. Go and do it.”
 The aggravating child turned to leave and Petyr couldn't help but sigh letting
his pen fall from his hand. His grey-green eyes flashed over to the framed
drawing Sansa had given him and it brought a smile to his lips.
“Joffrey.” The boy stopped and looked back with a whatexpression on his face.
“I can't clean up after this Kaeganof yours if I don't know where he is.”
 A spark of realisation shot through the child and then anger because Petyr had
told him; if there was one thing Joffrey couldn't stand it was when people
showed how moronic he really was. The blonde wandered over to the CFO's desk
and pulled a notepad and a pen, there was scribbling for a moment before the
pad and pen were thrown back at him and the child left. Petyr sat there for a
moment in utter silence, God how he wanted to kill that bastard, he couldn't
though, not yet at least; Petyr had to do it when no one could possibly think
he had a hand in it.
 Gwendolyn had been surprised to find her boss leaving early, he never left
early on a Wednesday, it was the one day Tywin Lannister spent the whole day at
Lion and Stag which meant that all the high level executives did as well; not
including Joffrey of course. The blonde assistant let him go though and
actually seemed happy about it when she realised that it meant she could leave
as well, the mother always enjoyed getting home early to be with Lukas.
 Petyr flicked on the stereo as his sleek grey Aston Martin DBS glided along
the roads, one arm rested on the open window frame letting in the heated air
and orange sun, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. The address
Joffrey had scrawled was on the other side of Kings Landing though the blonde
had told his friend Petyr would be there is twenty minutes it would take a good
thirty-five what with the after lunch traffic to get down to the docks.
                                        
                   I am the passenger and I ride and I ride
                      I ride through the city's backsides
                      I see the stars come out of the sky
                        Yeah, the bright and hollow sky
                       You know it looks so good tonight
                                        
 Fingers drummed on the steering wheel while the dark-haired man hummed along
to the song. Stormy eyes glance up when a flock of birds went over in a V
formation. Gone were the blustery days of winter, summer dominated all of
Westeros.
                                        
                              I am the passenger
                              I stay under glass
                      I look through my window so bright
                       I see the stars come out tonight
                        I see the bright and hollow sky
                       Over the city's ripped backsides
                      And everything looks good tonight.
                                        
 The sky seemed bluer than it had been the previous day, perhaps it was because
of the conversation he and Sansa had the night before, or maybe it was the lack
of clouds, Petyr wasn't certain. Obviously Sansa had taken comfort from their
conversation the night before because he'd woken to a smiling young woman
making him coffee; he hadn't been aware she'd watched him enough to teach
herself that but Petyr hadn't questioned it. Sansa seemed happy, more so than
he'd seen her in the entire time he'd had her with him; Baelish's ego grinned
at the fact he was the one to make her so happy.
 
                               Get into the car
                            We'll be the passenger
                      We'll ride through the city tonight
                     We'll see the city's ripped backsides
                      We'll see the bright and hollow sky
                   We'll see the stars that shine so bright
                           Stars made for us tonight
The second Petyr parked and looked up at the address Joffrey had sent him to
Petyr wanted to bleach his eyes. It was a run down little warehouse that looked
rat infested and way too  grey for his liking; it was one of those places that
just made him want to look to the camera and ask if this was a joke. The place
was secluded so that was one boon for him to work with, though the cleaner
didn't want to leave his Aston Martin unattended for too long. Petyr pulled his
trusty duffel bag of tricks from the car trunk and headed into the hovel of a
warehouse.
Beer, that was the first thing he smelt followed by blood. There were two
floors of the warehouse, well the second floor was more of an oversized
catwalk, but a second floor nevertheless. Large square pillars ran the length
of the building holding the remnants up, each one was coated in pealing white
and green paint; the only problem was that age had turned the white a hideous
yellow and the green almost black.  There isn't enough bleach in the world. In
the centre of the room was a poker table littered with a mess of cards and
spilt beer bottles, to the left on the concrete floor was a dead man almost
swimming in a pool of his own blood and crouched over said body was a young man
with mocha skin and a shaved head. Petyr watched for a time as the younger man
repeatedly picked up the dead man's wrist and let it drop to the floor
splattering in cold blood.  It seems that today's crime scene clean up has been
brought to me by the letters WTF.
 “I assume you're Kaegan.” His voice was stoic.
 “Well it's about fucking time.” The younger man stood to face Petyr. “Thought
I was gonna die of old age.”
 Petyr had knew exactly who Kaegan Irelan now they were face to face and wasn't
surprised to find he'd killed someone, Petyr only concerned himself with three
kinds of people; those who benefited him, those who were a threat to him and
those he could use. To be entirely honest the other man looked like a wanna be
gangster and had fallen from the could be used category when he'd been
disowned.
“Believe it or not but CFO of Lion and Stag Enterprises is not a hobby.”
“Whatever, just get on with it.”
 Petyr sighed internally and dropped the bag to the floor he was about to speak
again when a dog barked from under the poker table. That was the one thing he'd
not been expecting.
“Oh, I forgot about the mutt.”
 Kaegan pulled a Glock 17 from his belt and aimed at the dog who cowered away.
 “Wait! I'll deal with the dog, you need to change out of those bloody
clothes.” Petyr reached into his bag and took out a pair of mint green scrubs
before throwing them at Kaegan. “Put these on and leave me the ones you're
wearing now. I suggest after that you go home, put on your own clothes and then
go somewhere public.”
 “Does anyone know you and he are acquainted other than Joffrey?”
“Yeah, a few people.”
“Will any of them care that this man is dead?” The question was short, simple
and to the point.
 “Nah. No one is gonna give a shit.” Kaegan started to strip off his blood
soaked clothes. “Bet they'll be happy, and if I didn't do it Ramsay or Joff
would 'ave.”
Ramsay Bolton, should have fucking guessed that mad bastard was involved with
this.  Petyr let out another sigh.
“Once this man is reported missing there will be a search for him, I doubt the
police will try very hard though. If you go somewhere public CCTV will pick you
up and you have a solid alibi for the general time he went missing.” Am I
explaining this to a three-year old?“Clothes.”
 Kaegan's worn blue jeans and blood stained t-shirt found themselves hurtling
towards the older man only to land on the floor with a dense thud.
 “That's not a 'alf bad plan, mate. Seems there's a reason Joff kept you
about.”
“I aim to please.” The Cleaner muttered as he pulled out a trash bag to sling
Kaegan's soiled clothes into. The dog barked again, shuffling towards its dead
owner.
“Mate, why is that dog still alive?!”
 Petyr was silent for a moment while he set a flattened sheet of plastic and
rolled the grey suited body onto it before returning to the pool of blood.
“The dog is still alive because that way I don't have to clean that up too.”
“Whatever you say. I'll leave you to your fun.”
Kegan left moments later, the door slamming shut behind him and Petyr let out a
breath of relief.  Blood was everywhere, in a pool on the floor, splattered up
the poker table, covering the animal's paws and even dripping through the
plastic sheeting. Baelish estimated there had been seven bullet wounds, all to
the chest, he'd clocked twelve spent shell casings though which meant five more
bullets lay scattered around the abandoned warehouse. With song lyrics buzzing
around his head  Petyr tied off either end of the damp plastic sheeting and
carried the body out and into the trunk of his car. He'd been right, the docks
were completely abandoned; I could run around naked for an hour and no one
would see.The dark-haired Cleaner laughed to himself.
It was then Petyr decided, decided to burn the place to the ground. Feet
carried him back to his duffel bag where he crouched and pulled put a small
black spray bottle of ammonia, safer than carrying around hydrogen peroxide
though not as effective. It didn't matter the fire would destroy any DNA that
remained. He spread the chemical quickly, diluting and destroying all in its
path. Then he looked down to the dog, a puppy really, a Wolfdog if he wasn't
mistaken.
“What am I to do with you?” He asked the creature as it padded towards him.
“Sit.” The dog obeyed. “So you're trained, a little anyway. Don't worry little
puppy dog, I won't kill you. I think animals are more important than most of
humanity, probably more intelligent too.”
The puppy had no leash, only a pink spiked collar that Petyr thought hideous,
he bent down and picked up the dog  settling it in his arms quietly and walking
off to his car. The Wolfdog seemed happy enough to sit patiently in his
classic Aston Martin while Petyr pulled an empty jerrycan from his trunk behind
the wrapped body. Baelish had filled the car up that morning and knew he could
siphon enough off to get a good fire going and that was just what he did.
Soon enough Petyr stood watching the flames take over the large warehouse on
the docks, by the time anyone got to it all evidence would be gone. The body
would end up in Shark bellies like all the others and never be found.
Two hours later Petyr found himself and the dog out on his yacht throwing
chunks of  unnamed man over the side feeding the hungry sharks. It amazed Petyr
that just a little bit of blood called so many great whites in; like ringing a
dinner bell.  The dog sat on the dock alternating between watching the sharks
swimming through the blue water and Petyr himself. Once the  yacht had been
docked again and his house was in view Petyr turned his attention back to the
animal.
“Alright, you're going to a shelter.” The dog whimpered. “Don't look at me like
that. You're going to a shelter.” The dog continued to stare at him. “Great! Do
I just take in strays now? What am I saying? No, you're going to a shelter or I
leave you here on the dock, your choice.”
The animal looked up at him with big dark eyes, he refused to be  swayed by the
young creature. Until...
“Fine.”
Chapter End Notes
     Lyrics are from The Passenger by Iggy Pop.
***** The Seven Deadly Sins Are Man's True Nature *****
Petyr shut the front door behind himself and the Wolfdog pup softly, with a
single word she sat with her tail wagging as he walked away into the living
room. He found Sansa curled up on the couch as he did so many nights, a pencil
in one hand sketching while the other arm was circled around Copper, she did
love that toy. His girl didn't notice him until he poked his head over her
shoulder to see her drawing.
 “That's really good, Sweetling. It looks just like Copper.” He praised.
“Thank you, Master.” She smiled up at him though her eyes remained downcast.
“Sansa is glad Master is home.”
 Petyr held out his hand for the young redhead to take and she did once Copper
was nestled under her arm. She had no fear towards Petyr any more.
 “Come on, Sweetling. I have a present for you.”
 “Master spoils Sansa.” She told him softly.
“True. However, I do as I please and spoiling you is what I want to do, and
anyway this wasn't entirely myidea.” He shook certain thoughts from his mind
before adding. “Close your pretty little eyes for me.”
 Sansa obeyed and let her Master usher her into the purple vestibule, his hand
in hers was a comfort that seeped through her pale skin and into her very soul.
Petyr showered her with kindness and gifts and though Sansa didn't need any of
the presents she greatly enjoyed the look on his face when he gave them to her.
Master brought her to a halt just before the stairs, or so she thought, and
placed his hands on her small shoulders.
“Ta-dah! Open your eyes.”
 Sansa obeyed pulling them open and gasped more loudly than she thought
possible. Before her was the most beautiful creature Sansa had ever seen, the
animal was a real life version of Copper only rather than grey fur that
finished with a red sheen this one had a grey back, ears and tail while its
tummy and front legs were almost pure white.
 “Do you like her?” Petyr asked, genuinely curious.
 “Yes, Master. She's beautiful." Sansa's tone was a little awe struck.
 “Good, because she'd yours. I don't like you being here alone all day and this
lady volunteered.” He gestured towards the animal. “You can walk her in the
back yard, that's big enough for a Wolfdog to entertain herself with
considering it's about a mile wide and long, plus there are no fences. Go pet
her then.”
 Sansa grinned and took a step forward before turning to her Master and holding
Copper up towards him.
“Would you hold him?”
“Of course.”
 Petyr took the toy dog that she so adored and watched as his girl hesitantly
went to the dog and crouched, the animal was a little cautious to start with
just as Sansa had been with Petyr. He watched his fire haired girl reach out a
hand for the dog to sniff before softly stroking her head, the Wolfdog cuddled
into Sansa happily. It was only when the spiked pink collar came into view that
she backed away her face coated in horrid memories; Baelish leapt into action.
A large hand void of Copper adeptly unbuckled the pink monstrosity and shoved
it into his pocket out of sight, Sansa just kept her eyes on the animal before
her.
“We'll get her something else shall we? No collars.”
 Sansa nodded profusely while her eyes calmed and her hands returned to
stroking her new pet. The older man watched for a while with a grin on his
face, not one of those usual smirks, no, this was a real smile; those only ever
came out for Sansa.
“What shall you name her?” He asked his girl. The puppy is young enough to
learn a new name,he thought absent-mindedly.
The redhead thought for a while, Master had been the one to name Copper and
other than; Petyr, Olyvar, Kaegan, Duvall and Joffrey, Sansa didn't know names
and they were all male names. In the books her Master had taught her to read
there were two sisters called Yvonne and Fiona but the Stark didn't much like
those names. She thought for a time that was no more than a minute about what
her Master had said, … this little lady volunteered,that was it.
“Can Sansa call her Lady,Master?”
 “Of course you can Sansa.” Petyr looked down at the grey puppy. “Hello Lady.”
Lady barked and he took it to be a sign she liked her new name. “Sansa, there
is chicken in the refrigerator, she can have that for tonight. And here, have
him back.”
 He gave Copper back to his girl and watched as she led the young pup through
his house. Once she was out of sight Petyr chucked the collar into the trash
and headed upstairs for a much needed shower.
As soothing hot water cascaded over his naked body Littlefinger started to
think, some sang in the shower, not Petyr, he reflected on the days and how
much closer they had brought him to what he wanted.  Six months ago I could go
and do as I pleased and now... now I'm playing happy families with the Catelyn
and Ned Stark's daughter and a card sharks dog. What the fuck is wrong with me?
For possibly the first time ever Petyr realised how lonely he'd been before,
thinking he'd not needed anyone.  What's the point of taking everything if
there is no one to share it with? Suddenly Petyr shut off the water and just
stood there in utter silence.  Christ I've gone soft! But then he thought about
how happy Lady had made his Sansa, he couldn't take that away from her.  And
she's far more beautiful than her mother ever was.
“I'm keeping her.” He announced to the empty bathroom. “The fucking dog too.
She's a Stark, the last Stark and I want her!”
 If there was one thing he'd learnt in this world it was that there was no
chance, fate or destiny, there was only what the world took and what he could
take from the world. Sansa was his now and not even the world could take her
from him.
                                        
Once Petyr had dried off and dressed in his dark grey night pants he lit a
cigarette, the hot smoke filling his lungs, wrapping around them like a warm
blanket. Everyone said smoking killed but Baelish knew the Lannisters were more
of a threat to him than his little sticks of delight. Nicotine was his reward
for having survived the day. He knew the smell bothered Sansa though so he took
each drag quickly blowing the smoke out the open window and into the dark
night.
When the dark-haired man had finished with his treat he walked purposefully
through his house and into Sansa's bedroom where he had to stop and take a
second to just look. She was sat on her bed reading The Ravenby Edgar Allan Poe
she wasn't very far through it but considering a little over six months ago she
couldn't read or spell her own name, credit where credit was due. Copper was
resting underneath her chin while the live wolf, newly named Lady, had curled
up by her side. She looked utterly stunning.
 “Sansa Sweetling don't read in the dark.” He flicked on her bedside lamp
filling the room with artificial light and sat down beside her. “You'll hurt
your eyes.”
“Sorry Master.”
 “I'm very impressed that you're reading that, It's not easy.” Sansa smiled.
“Did you finish the other books I got you?”
 “Yes Master, Sansa read them.” Her voice was filled with the need for sleep,
she'd be off to bed soon.
“Sweetling, what did I ask?”
“... Iread them.” The girl corrected herself.
 “Good girl.” Baelish praised her with a grin. “Would you read to me,
Sweetling?”
“Of course, anything Master wants.”
“That's my girl.”
 With that Sansa started to read out loud for him.
“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pon... pon-”
“Pondered.” He corrected.
 Sansa smiled and and started over.
                                        
        “Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
           Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
        While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
          As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
         '’Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door—
                         Only this and nothing more.'”
 
Her voice was heavenly to him, like the smoothest silk. As his girl read he
found her slowly snuggling into his side, Petyr thought it almost domestic, he
couldn't resist slipping an arm around her and holding his redhead close. Sansa
had utter trust in him, no one had  ever trusted him like she did and Petyr
found himself feeling almost honoured by it. Anyone who had any trust in him
usually ended up being screwed over but not Sansa, he couldn't hurt his darling
Sansa. She was his now. Petyr kept telling her that she wasn't a possession but
deep down they both knew she was his, maybe not an object but his
nevertheless... and Sansa seemed to be okay with that.
Suddenly the redhead yawned mid sentence and it brought a half-smile to his
lips while his hand came up to cup her cheek, her skin was so soft. He loved
that she still wore his shirts to bed, just another thing that made her
his.Sansa wasn't stupid she could see the way he looked at her, the way his
fingers took any opportunity to stroke against her skin.
 “Would Master like Sansa – me – to touch him?” Her question was timid.
 “Very much, Sweetling.” He sighed. “But it's late and you need your sleep.”
“San- I want to make Master feel good.” She tried so hard to us Iand mejust
like he wanted.
“So eager to please.”
That smug grin of his returned. Petyr Baelish wasn't a good man, he knew that
and he'd accepted it long ago, he knew he shouldn't but Petyr just couldn't
help himself. At least I'm not forcing her. With ease a hand reached inside to
take himself in hand. Sanas's azure eyes trailed down to take all her Master's
masculinity in, she leaned in but found her Master's free hand resting on her
shoulder in a silent no.
 “Wait. Come here, Sweetling.”
She allowed him to cup her cheek and bring her in to gently press their lips
together in a soft but needy kiss. When they broke apart he could see Sansa
blush,  actually blush.
“Have you ever been kissed by anyone else?” He asked, one hand still stroking
his hard member and remembering the first kiss he'd stolen.
“Yes, but not like that Master.” He wasn't surprised to hear her tone a little
embarrassed.
“Ahh, and did you like it when Ikissed you?”
“... Yes.”
 The redness of her blush grew and travelled down her neck turning her skin
almost the same color as her hair. When he'd given in to his wants before he'd
been more focused on the lips between her legs than the ones she used to call
him Master. With a grin Petyr crashed their lips together once more, this time
for a deeper kiss.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
 Sansa looked down, she wasn't beautiful or even pretty, at least that was what
she thought. Baelish could tell she didn't believe him.
 “You are. Sansa please believe that and never forget it.” Petyr felt himself
pulse and a small moan escaped his lips. “Do you still want to pleasure your
Master? You don't have to.”
 Petyr was many things but he drew the line at rape. Before he'd fully finished
his sentence Sansa was nodding her head and settling herself between his
thighs, he watched with glee as his girl took him into her mouth; Petyr's hands
shot into her red hair. Flashes of horror bombarded Sansa, memories of the pain
Joffrey and his so-called friends had caused, she pushed them down and forced
them away though; Petyr would never hurt her she knew that. Soon enough Sansa
had banished old evil memories to oblivion and she found something that
surprised her a little... she liked using her mouth on him; actually enjoyed
it. Her new Master was bigger than Joffrey but he didn’t force it down her
throat, there was no pain and that made Sansa place even more trust in her
Master than she already had. His large hand rested in her hair, nails gliding
over her scalp sending shivers down her spine; Sansa wanted to please him and
not because she feared the consequences if she didn't but because she enjoyed
the moans that left his lips.
Sansa sucked softly and r an her tongue around the head of Petyr's hard member.
Baelish's hands gripped a little harder on her soft hair , his fingernails
scraped along her scalp and only encouraged his girl. Petyr was her first for
pleasure and it was something she would saver. The older man wasn't stupid he
could tell his girl was nervous even though she'd taken him into her mouth
before, every now and again her teeth would catch him and when she tried to
take him down deeper she gagged.
“Don't force yourself, Sweetling.” Sansa wouldn't give up though. “Use your
hand instead.”
He told her with his eyes fixed on her beautiful mouth. Sansa was a quick study
and in only a few seconds she had her hand around what her mouth couldn't
handle, she hummed happily sending those pleasurable vibrations up through her
Master's body. His stormy eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back against
the cerulean pillows, Petyr's grip on her hair grew tighter and Sansa knew he
was close; sure enough a few moments later he was pulling on her hair trying to
get her to release him.
“I'm... San... sa.” He could hardly speak.
 As he hung on the edge he found Sansa suddenly pulling away letting him slip
from her mouth with a pop. Petyr's eyes flew open and for a moment he thought
he'd hurt her.
 “Does Master want Sansa- me on my back now?”
 Everything was silent for a moment as Petyr tried to process the question, his
ego grinned.
 “Do you really trust me enough for that, Sweetling?” Sansa nodded with a
smile, her eyes still locked down on his chest. “Alright.” The word was nothing
more than a whisper.
 Sansa didn't look frightened, she lay down gently letting Petyr shift his
weight over her tiny frame and knock her thighs apart. How Petyr had longed for
this. Baelish let a little more weight rest on her and then all hell broke
loose. Sansa kicked out and pushed her Master away, acidic tears filled her
eyes and her body tensed. Sharp terrified kicks slammed into the older man's
chest and Petyr jumped back as though he'd been burnt. It was all too much,
he'd gone too far.
 “I'm sorry. I'm sorry Sansa.” His grey-green eyes were filled with concern for
his girl.
 Sansa wiped the tears from her azure eyes and forced her lungs to take deep
breaths of air. Her Master hadn't hurt her but Sansa had associated that weight
with pain, horror and blood for so long that she just reacted.
“Sansa's sorry Master.” She sounded ready to cry.
 “No, Sweetling. You're not ready and I don't blame you. Maybe you never will
be and that's not your fault.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“But Sansa wants to please her Master. I want to.”
Petyr was so proud that his girl tried to use Iand merather than her usual
Sansa, but that was unimportant at that moment.
“Little One, please don't force yourself.” He sighed. “There's no need.”
 For a long time Petyr just sat there with his red-headed girl in his strong
and protective arms, Sansa clung to him with need until her heart had calmed
and she'd regained her ability to speak.
“Maybe... maybe Sansa-” The redhead cut her stuttering off abruptly.
 “Go on, Sweetling.” He encouraged. “You can tell me anything.”
 He ducked his head to try and catch her eye but he failed, Petyr had come to
accept that she'd probably never look him in the eyes. He could live with that.
Nerves trembled through her body but Sansa had to answer her Master.
“Sansa is not allowed, Master. Would be wrong.”
“How about you tell me anyway hmm? Let your Master decide.”
 His words were full of kindness that Sansa still wasn't certain she deserved.
“Could Sansa... could  I... be... be- no it's wrong for Sansa to ask.” She
cautiously glanced up to her Master who wore a face of patients and words
suddenly fell from her lips in a burst. “Could Sansa be on top?”
 Petyr's eyebrows shot up at the request... as well as something else, he'd
thought the mood was forever gone but it seemed not; just the idea had his
arousal growing again. A good man would say no, tuck her up and let her sleep
but Petyr wasn't a good man.
 “Come here, Sweetling.”
Large hands took hold of Sansa's hot thighs and pulled her to straddle his
hips, she looked so nervous above him so he made certain to move slowly, she'd
feared enough for one day. For all eternity really. Nimble fingers slowly
opened the small pearl like buttons of her night shirt and slid it from her
shoulders, he'd not seen her fully naked since the day he'd brought her to his
home, her skin was pale and void of bruises, only faint scares remained. Sansa
was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen even in the dark moonlight; so pale
with such firm breasts. Petyr couldn't help but cup them in his hands, thumbs
ghosting over her pink nipples. Sansa let out a moan that seemed to symbolise
the passing of her fear.  Should I stop? I already know she wasn't ready. I
should stop, but I don't want to. Sansa felt his hand move down to her sex, she
was wet and Petyr growled.
 “Let your Master take care of you, Sweetling.”
 The hand not cupping her sex returned to his member stroking quickly bringing
himself back to full hardness, his Sansa was beautiful, it wasn't difficult to
let his arousal burst forth a new. Less than an inch from her glistening
entrance his teasing fingers ground to a halt.
 “Last chance, Sweetling. Do you want me to stop?”
“No Master.”
“Good!”
Lips crashed against Sansa's own in a needy kiss, she could taste cigarette
smoke on his tongue and something else that was entirely unique to him, her
Master. A single finger slipped past her entrance stretching his darling girl
open slowly, there was no pain just pleasure wrapped in little bits of heaven.
Sansa's eyes fell shut as a single finger grew to two and then three. Joffrey
had never done this, never cared enough to make her feel good, but Petyr seemed
to take more pleasure from the noises she let out than the actual act.  Is this
making love, like the book said?  Sansa didn't know and it was certainly a
thought for another time. She gasped when he removed his fingers in favour of
licking them clean, she felt so empty without those talented fingers, yet Sansa
didn't have to suffer long, with a  tell me to stop if you don't like it  he
reached into a draw and pulled out a strange packet the likes of which Sansa
had never seen before, he opened it and rolled the condom onto his erection.
Master lined himself up and filled his girl to the hilt, she was so tight, so
perfect in every way that Petyr had to fight not to cum there and then.
 “Oh God, Sansa!” He moaned into her mouth.
 From the size of him Sansa had been expecting pain but there was none, just a
sense of euphoria that took all thought from the redhead.
“Just follow my movements, Sweetling. You'll get it, it's natural.”
Hands gripped either of her hips guiding her in their movements, it was new but
Sansa's body seemed to know what it was doing and so she let it take over.
Petyr's  back somehow found itself braced up against the wooden headboard with
Sansa rocking in his lap like she would die without her Master’s cock filling
her, Sansa was finally doing something for herself. She'd never expected to get
a Master like Petyr Baelish, she knew he wasn't a  goodman but he was good to
her and that was all that mattered.
Baelish breathed her in, the coconut from her shampoo, grass from her daily
walks and raw musky sex, it was divine almost as if there was a celestial being
in his arms. In the silvery twilight of the bedroom Petyr's fingers caressed
his darling girl's milky skin as if afraid a heavier touch would shatter the
magic of the moment. They became one, one mind with one goal and purpose, utter
bliss. Each touch of skin on skin was like electricity, a frenzy of static that
sailed between their bodies like a leaf in the ocean. He kissed up Sansa's jaw
to her earlobe and nipped at it with want, she tasted so good. The dark-haired
man was close, so caught between the intoxication of his approaching climax and
extending a moment he never wanted to end. So close, so near the edge ready to
plunge over the cliff into the icy depths, so close. Suddenly Sansa screamed so
loud it was almost a sonic boom to his ears, he felt her walls clench around
him as she came moaning and panting against his body. Petyr couldn't take it,
the smell of her, the softness of her sweaty skin, the way her walls gripped
his cock refusing to let go, it was all too much.
“Sansa!”
Her name was a strangled shout as he came, fingers gripping her hips so hard
that they would bruise. He wasn't done though, Sansa found herself on her back
with her legs spread and open mouth kisses trailing down her stomach. His
tongue licked at her folds hungrily tasting the sweet flavour of his girl.
Tasting her whilst in the midst his own come down made her even more
tantalising.
“Are you close again, Sweetling?” He purred. “I want to hear you. I want to
hear you scream, moan and gasp to your heart's content.”
That was what he wanted and that was just what she gave him. She cried out as
another orgasm tore though her, not because he wanted it but because there
wasn't a single thing powerful enough to keep her quiet. They lay there for a
time panting, breathing in much needed air, sex scented air but are
nonetheless.  I doubt therapists would approve of my actions... unless it was
Hannibal Lecter,  Petyr thought he could get on rather well with Doctor Lecter.
 “That's my good girl. My Sweetling.” His heart rate started to slow to a more
normal speed.
 “Master is too good to Sansa.”
Baelish just chuckled.
 “If I'm your Master then I can treat you as I please, and I've decided to
treat you like a princess. Princess Sansa, it's got a nice ring to it.”
To his pleasure the redhead smiled against his chest. his girl was practically
glowing with ecstasy and the transcendent scent of sex clung to her heavenly
form. 
“That would make Master the King.
 “That's it Sansa, let's rule everything.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment or two, his girl was practically glowing
with ecstasy and the transcendent scent of sex clung to her heavenly form. Her
skin was hot against his, coated in a thin layer of cooling sweat as well as
something unique to her; given the choice Petyr would never let her leave his
arms. He wasn't a romantic man by any means but thankfully Sansa didn't need
that, she knew what he was and trusted him anyway. His girl cuddled in closer
as the minutes passed them by, almost as though they existed in a void that
time couldn't penetrate, he felt her heartbeat slow to a gentle rhythm in her
chest that soon danced with his own. They could rule everything of that Petyr
had no doubt, but she'd have to learn first.
“I've been thinking, you're strong and intelligent. Let me teach you what I do.
You're more like me than you think, don't just hide yourself away here forever.
Let me teach you a skill set for an occupation that will always be called for.”
“Killing?” She questioned quietly.
“No, not killing. That's part of what I do but only a small part. Let me teach
you?”
 Sansa couldn't quite decide if he was asking or begging and that was a little
strange to her. She could hear his heart beating in his chest and it helped to
ground her in the moment.
“Sansa likes the idea of spending more time with Master.”
“Perfect.” He grinned. “Tell me, if you could do anything, anything at all
without suffering the consequences, what would you do?”
Sansa was curious of course but caution still sped around her body and through
her soul. Hesitantly she asked.
“No one would tell Sansa she couldn't?” Petyr nodded. “Then San-  I would ask
for Master to take meand Lady to the park. The television showed one.”
Petyr grinned.
“Is that really all you'd ask for? And that's not what I meant.” Petyr sighed
and held his girl tighter. “Do you... do you want to make your old Master
suffer for what he did to you? Do you want to make Cersei hurt for what she did
to your family?”
Silence, complete silence. Sansa bit her lip while trying to figure out how to
respond, Petyr could clearly see how desperately she wanted to say yes. Yes she
wanted Joffrey to hurt, she wanted Cersei to suffer; Sansa didn't need to say
it he knew.
“Then we'll do it together.”
 Either way Petyr would have destroyed Joffrey and his Mother but it would have
been more fun with Sansa's help; more meaningful.
***** On The Outskirts Of Agony Sits A Fellow Who Points *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry this didn't get updated yesterday but I just didn't get time.
     The chapter title is a quote by Virginia Woolf
      
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 Orange morning light drifted to Sansa's eyes but that was not what woke her,
the bedroom door was what roused her from deep slumber. The redhead was a
little sore from the previous nights actions but there was no pain like all the
years with Joffrey.    No, stop thinking of old Master. Sansa only has new
Master now. No not 'new Master', just Master.    All thoughts were quickly
silenced when she found the man in question setting a    white painted
breakfast tray down before her,    the redhead had never been pampered before
and it caused her to blushed uncontrollably; a tiny voice at the back of her
mind kept insisting she didn't deserve any of it. 
“Here you go, told you you'd be treated like a princess.”
“Thank you, Master. Would Master like some too?”
  Petyr grinned at his girl before settling down beside      her on the bed, he
was clad in nothing but his night pants and Sansa liked the warmth she could
feel resonating from his skin when it brushed against hers.     She watched his
lips curl upwards when he stole a piece of buttered toast    and took a bite,
tongue jutting out to lick the crumbs from his lips.
 “Eat Sweetling.” Petyr leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I told the office
I'd work from home today and I have a lesson for you so we're going to my
club.”
  Sansa reached out and took the other     slice of brown toast, it was warm
and wonderful on her    tongue like a waterfall of flavour.
“  It's good, Master.”
“I'm glad you like it. I'm going to take a shower.”
 The dark-haired man pressed another kiss to his girl's forehead     and then
he was gone, Sansa could hear the water running, occationally landing in large
thunderous drops when he moved. The noise acted as a comfort while she ate her
wonderfully prepared breakfast; eggs, bacon, toast and even a little black bowl
of sliced fruit beside her orange juice glass. No one had ever brought Sansa
breakfast before, she'd had scraps of food thrown at her every few days but
that really couldn't count as food, especially not when she was sat before the
beauty Petyr had made especially for her. The redhead ate slowly, she still
wasn't used to eating proper meals despite the months of being well fed. Sansa
couldn't help but feel like something had changed, not just between them but
with the way Sansa saw the world, saw herself; each day more and more fear
seemed to drain from her delicate body.    It's all because of Master.
 When her plate had practically been licked clean    she set everything neatly
on the tray and carried     it down into the kitchen, Lady trailing behind her;
that dog only ever left Sansa's side when she was fed and that was how the
redhead found herself walking back to the bedroom alone.      She'd stepped
into the room and froze when she found her Master walking out of the bathroom,
steam following close behind him. He was wet, small droplets of water dripped
from his salt and pepper hair and a fluffy white towel wrapped around his
waist; Petyr didn't seem phased.
“I left the water running for you.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Sansa passed her Master with a little smile though she didn't look up and
pushed the en suit door shut behind her. The water was warm on her skin a
soothing cascade of pure liquid that washed away the layer of sweat still
clinging to her pale skin from the night previous; that amazing night. Azure
eyes flew open when she heard the door open and her Master re-enter the
bathroom, the redhead listened past falling water to the sound of him shaving,
Sansa could see a dark mass through frosted glass and knew he could see her.
Suddenly over the running water and electronic buzz he spoke.
“I got you some clothes out, Sweetling. They're on the bed for you. I hope you
don't mind but I like that green dress you chose, it contrasts your eyes
wonderfully.” The buzzing stopped.
“Of course.”
Came her response as she brought her hands over her head pushing fiery hair out
the way. It was still a little strange to have free access to a shower and
other basic facilities, to have a bed to sleep in and real food to eat, hell,
to have a dog. The shower door opened letting a cold gust of air followed her
Master in, he was naked again and Sansa averted here eyes despite the acts of
the night before.
“Master will get all wet again.”
“I don't mind.” He confessed as strong arms snaked around her and tugged his
beloved redhead so her back was to his chest. Lips caressed her neck softly.
“You don't have to ware the dress if you don't want.” Petyr just wanted to make
sure she knew that.
“I like that dress as well, Master.” His hand slipped down her smooth stomach
and between her legs. “And San-I like that you like it.”
Nimble fingers worked quickly to bring his girl to climax, he adored the little
pants she let out and the way she bit her pink bottom lip. Fingertip bruises
littered the pale skin of her hips and they hurt ever so slightly but Sansa
didn't care, it wasn't  pain exactly so much as a reminder of the bliss her
Master had given her; the same bliss his fingers wanted to show her there in
the shower.
They don't show my Master is evil, they show he cares.
 Sansa's back arched as she came, the title of  Master on her lips, if she
hadn't have been so lost in her high she'd have heard him growl into her neck
as he licked up to her earlobe. When Sansa's legs had ceased their shaking the
both of them dried off and dressed. Since Due to Sansa's mild panic attack at
the sight of Lady's collar Petyr found her an old bandana he'd forgotten he
had, it was blue tartan and for the life of him he couldn't remember where it
came from. As soon as he got to the club he'd have Olyvar or Mads run down to
the pet store and get one of those bandanas that had the fabric sewn over a
collar so it actually only hid it from sight, that would do the trick. It was
clear than Sansa didn't like having to put Lady on a leash when they left the
house so Petyr didn't force his girl.
 Lady sat in the back seat of Petyr's beloved Aston Martin DB5 while Sansa
buckled herself into the passenger seat, Petyr's mind flashed back to the first
night and her terrified shivering; there was none of that left.
 She smiled a little when he clicked on the radio, her Master clearly had a
thing for rock music and country rock. Sansa watched as his fingers drummed on
the steering wheel and his head bobbed ever so slightly.
            Now I'm waiting on the corner in the back of your mind
            It's a lonely place to live, and I got nowhere to hide
         Cause you told me that you'd never be afraid of heights again
              Nobody ever thought that we could make it this high
              You're the only one I'd follow 'til the end of time
          If we fall, we fall together baby, don't think twice again
                            Don't think twice again

                And after all these years, and all of this time
                 Darling, if I'm still a question in your mind
                     Just say the words and this will end
                                     Yeah!
Joffrey had listened so weird screaming and people who just seemed to talk over
the music rather than sing, but Petyr's choices of songs had real lyrics and an
actually melody rather than random sounds. Sansa definitely approved of
Baelish's choices, not that she had any right, I'm his it's not the other way
round.Even with the kindness and dare she say lovehe showed her Sansa still saw
herself as a pet, not a scared beaten animal but a pet nonetheless.
               You told me that you'd never be afraid of heights
              You told me that you'd never be afraid of heights
            You told me we should never be afraid of heights again
              You told me that you'd never be afraid of heights
               You told me that you'd never be afraid of heights
          If we fall, we fall together baby, don't think twice again
 Petyr noticed her watching him after a short while and quickly straightened
and ceased his thumb drumming, driving with his music was the one time anyone
could really  read Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish and he didn't like it. No one
should ever know what he was thinking, what he was intending to do next; others
knowing was dangerous. He'd not meant to hide himself away from Sansa when he
noticed her watching him, it was juts a force of habit.
                         Wherever I go, wherever I go
                      I hear your voice on a broken radio
                         Wherever I go, wherever I go
                  I know we'll burn like a rocket's afterglow
                     Don't ever let go, don't ever let go
                  So are we destined to hit the ground below?
                     Don't ever let go, don't ever let go
                 Are we just watching the final chapter close?
When they approached The Mockingbird Petyr reached out and turned the volume
down so he could speak without having to shout, loud noises still scared his
girl; a week earlier he'd dropped a cardboard box of old papers over the
railing of his staircase letting it fall into the vestibule and she'd screamed
so loud that it had echoed around the house then hid. No loud noises around
Sansahe'd decided after that.
 “Sansa, if you get uncomfortable in there just tell me and we'll leave okay?”
“Yes, Master.” She responded honestly. “I will.”
The redhead had been trying so very hard to use Iand merather than Sansa, her
Master wanted her to be a person and so did she. They climbed out the car and
let Lady out before going into the club, it was so much quieter than the last
time she'd been there which was to be expected since it was hardly eleven
o'clock and they were only just opening for deliveries. The place looked
strange without all those men and half-dressed girls. Mockingbird's main
entrance led into a small hallway that ran horizontal to the main door the
walls were a plum purple and held a smaller version of the club sign. If one
went to the right they'd find themselves in the burlesque room which consisted
of a large stage facing a sea of tables and booths, as well as a black
staircase that hugged the wall and lead up to a second tier of seats. There was
also a small bar in there nicknamed The Stair Cupboarddue to the way the second
tier staircase went over it. Sansa didn't know it but the next evening would
pack that room out.
If one turned to the left thought they'd find the main body of the club, the
purple and black theme continued as well. It let out into a large room filled
with a sea of booths, some of which had burlesque poles in the middle while
others just had tables, Petyr had catered to everything and it had turned out
rather nicely. There was a smaller stage in the far right corner for little
performances, usually singers that were set up with all the lights anyone could
ever need, diagonally across from it on the other side of the room from the
entrance was Petyr's office door marked simply with Owner,besides which was
another staircase that led up to the private roomsand everyone knew what
happened up there. That office remained locked unless Littlefinger himself was
in it. Lastly was the most eye-catching thing in the room, a large circular bar
made of black granite in the very centre, it had a more Gothic finish than the
rest of The Mockingbird, save for the chandlers. The black bar was also where a
certain blonde Petyr had been looking for stood; Olyvar. The young blonde
rested behind the bar with his back to them wiping it down with a cloth.
“Shouldn't the bartenders have done that last night?” The owner asked.
 “They did, I spilt my coffee is all.” Oly turned while discarding the cloth
and finally noticed Sansa. “Hello again,  Alayne.”
 Sansa looked intently at Lady who had sat by her black ballerina shoe clad
feet, she wanted to stay like that, blue eyes locked on the floor and her
beloved Lady but that was not what her Master wanted. No, Petyr wanted Sansa to
be brave like he knew she really was and that thought alone was the only reason
the redhead managed to tilt her head up, not looking at Olyvar but it was
better than the floor.
“Hello.” She managed to greet, quietly but politely.
Petyr took Sansa by the hand to led her and Lady to the bar stools. Sansa sat
with her back to his office and watched as he walked behind the bar and helped
himself to a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid splashing into the glass with
gusto. No one ever said it had to be five in the eveninghe thought to himself.
“Oly, is that last nights profits book I see dripping with coffee?”
 “Em, yeah, sorry Boss.” He shook the black book off and handed it over to
Littlefinger. “I was going to keep hold of it until you came in but then I
showered everything with coffee.”
 Petyr set it down on the bar and opened it up to read, The Mockingbird had
survived another long night and had made the largest profit of the whole week
it seemed. He reached out for his bourbon glass but found Sansa tracing her
fingers around the rim and the decorative cut outs in the glass.
 “You've never had bourbon have you, Sweetling?”
 Sansa shook her head slowly fully aware of Olyvar's presence and the few other
members of staff dotted around the building preparing for the evening.
“Here.” He slid the glass towards her. “Take a sip.”
 The redhead obeyed, picking the glass up with both hands and bringing it up to
her nose, it didn't smell nice to her far too bitter but maybe it tasted
better... it didn't. The second Sansa swallowed the tiny sip of it she was
coughing and set the glass down. Petyr and Oly laughed but not with malice.
“Not a bourbon girl then.” He surmised. “Good, you're far too sweet for it.”
 Then he was moving, pulling bottles off of the shelf behind him and lining
them up on the bar top. Sansa watched with great curiosity along with Oly as
Petyr tipped ice into a tall glass and then measured out a pale red liquid and
tipped it into the glass. It was then that he started to speak.
 “Syrup goes in over the ice, then a little club soda.” Petyr filled the glass
about half way. “Give it a stir.” He crouched down out of sight for a second or
two before coming back up with an unopened pot of cream, tipping the glass on
its side he started to fill the rest of the glass up. “Add a straw and there
you go. Sweet and red just like you.”
 The glass was slid forwards to Sansa who looked at it curiously.
 “Watermelon Italian cream soda. No alcohol.” He announced as Sansa took a sip,
swirling the straw around to mix it the cream a little at a time.
“It's really good.” His girl beamed.
“I didn't know you could tend a bar. I mean yeah Italian cream soda is really
simple but you seem like more of a open the whiskey bottle and drink ittype of
guy.”
 Sansa continued drinking the watermelon concoction happily, it had the texture
of a milkshake, which they'd discovered she loved early on.
“A good boss knows every aspect of his business, and when I was young I spent
three years tending a bar to put myself through school.”
 It was safe for Olyvar to have that bit of information, none of it could be
used to hurt him or Sansa.
“Thank you, Master.”
“Master.” Olyvar mumbled under his breath in a tone that said why am I not
surprised?
“Haven't you got something to be doing Oly?” Petyr suddenly said, he heard
everything that went on in his club, everything.“And where is Ros?”
“Ros said she'd be late in.”
 “She lives in the apartment upstairs.” Petyr deadpanned.
 
“Yeah, but that's not the bed she woke up in.” The blonde grinned wickedly.
Petyr mumbled something along the lines of for God's sake before walking back
out from behind the bar, picking up his coffee stained black book and bourbon
glass.
 “Come on, Sweetling.”
 Sansa hopped off the chair with her drink and followed her Master towards his
office with Lady at her side.
 Olyvar watched them go until Mads leaned on the bar, he wore tight black pants
from which a chain hung, and a coal pinstriped waistcoat that showed off his
tanned muscled arms. His dark blonde hair was messy like he'd just gotten out
of bed, which knowing Mads was highly possible, and dark liner under his hazel
eyes. It was all very nineteen-twenties. Beside him stood another man in the
employ of one Petyr Baelish, this one was a little younger and rather a lot
shorter than his six-foot-three friend, maybe five-foot-ten at most but no
more, by the name of Dimitri. His jet black hair was all spiked up at the front
and highlighted a little with dark blue, Dimitri was the joker on staff and
everyone loved his young appearance. He was dressed in a plain fitted white
tank and a pair of tight grey-silver slacks held up by bright blue suspenders.
Just like Mads he wore eye-liner and it caused his impossibly emerald eyes and
porcelain skin to really  pop.
“Whose the girl?” Mads asked with an accent.
“Yeah, we'd know if we were getting a new girl and she looks pretty his.” Added
Dimitri with a sly grin. 
 “That boys, would be Alayne. She's the bosses niece.”
 Suddenly Mads and Dimitri erupted with laughter.
 “There is no way in hell something that hot is related to Baelish unless he
married into the family.” Said the accented voice.
 Olyvar laughed because that was exactly what he'd said when Petyr had told
him.
 Meanwhile on the other side of Petyr's office door he'd seated himself behind
his desk and Sansa had let him pull her to sit on his lap; Lady had settled
herself down on the large black leather couch to their right. Her drink was
half gone by now and she wore a questioning expression on her face as he tip-
tapped on his laptop.
“Go on and ask, I know you want to.” Said the older man, stormy eyes never
drifting from the laptop screen.
“Why are we here, Master?”
Petyr grinned upon hearing the word wecome out of her mouth and turned to face
his girl.
“Well, since finding you I've neglected my club a little.” He began calmly. “I
also thought a change of scenery would be nice for you.” He took a breath. “I
said I'd teach you what I do and this is the best place for lesson one, at noon
several businessmen will come in here for their lunch meetingsbut not as many
people as in the evening. I don't want you crowded or frightened.”
“What will San-I be learning, Master?” She asked.
 “People.” He answered simply “People and their motives, what drives them, what
can be used to exploit them. It will be best to teach you here because they'll
all be otherwise occupied.”
“With girls?” It was an almost silent question.
 “Yes, Sweetling. Men too. Do you remember what I told you about the people who
work here?”
“Yes Master. They aren't forced, it's their job.”
“Good girl.”
 He pressed a kiss to her forehead and went back to what he was doing, Sansa
didn't mind she liked the quiet and just being close to him;  Master is so
kind. That was only a half truth, he was kind but only to her. Only to his
darling girl with bright red hair and dazzling blue eyes that any man could get
lost in; if she'd make eye contact that was. It saddened him to think she may
never look him in the eyes, not just because of how beautiful they were but
because it would be something Joffrey had taken from her forever. Joffrey
Baratheon was one hell of a bastard, in both senses of the word.
 Time passed and Lady had dozed off long ago, Sansa wasn't far behind her but
with a kiss to her forehead Petyr had his girl awake again. His laptop screen
was black and his arms had circled her keeping the redhead close to his suit
clad chest, he smelt divine and Sansa couldn't help but trace the silver
mockingbird pin on his lapel. Petyr hated when people did that, beyond basic
sexual needs he didn't much like being touched at all, but with Sansa he
couldn't bring himself to care; she was the only one whose touch he welcomed.
 “It's gone noon, Sweetling.” He told her after pressing another kiss to her
forehead, that was becoming a habit. “I think it's time your lesson began.”
 Petyr swiveled his chair round to look at his CCTV cameras,  can't have
Joffrey or anyone from Lion and Stag here to gossip about my beautiful young
redhead now can we?  Seeing the coast was clear Petyr pushed her up onto her
feet and lead her out of the office leaving the growing wolfdog asleep on his
couch.
 The VIP lounge was empty, always was at the lunch opening it only got busy
after dark, that was where he decided he and Sansa would sit. It was raised a
little from the rest of main club and had a waist-high purple railing keeping
the riff-raff out, it would do nicely to give Sansa a good look at the
customers while keeping her far away from them. He fell down onto the soft
purple chair and pulled Sansa down beside him.
“No one will talk to you if you stay here with me.” He told her and Sansa took
a little comfort in that. “Sweetling, I need you to look at them, really
lookand tell me what you see.”
 Sansa's blue eyes passed over the club taking in what everyone was doing,
Olyvar was straddling a man who looked old enough to be her Master's father and
yet had a smile on his face. She could see a lot of that. There was an utterly
beautiful woman with mocha skin behind the bar along with a pale skinned woman
with pink tails, a few men seemed to be talking to them rather than ordering
drinks.
“Men who want... that.”She finally responded and Petyr snorted.
 “Well yes, but it's more than that Sansa.” He looked down at the top of her
red hair since she wouldn't show him her eyes. “I see puppets, each and every
single one of them, even the staff, a puppet and who do you think is the puppet
master?”
“You?” He nodded.
“You have to see what they want and give it to them, or at least make them
thinkyou gave it to them. This is what I do, before anything else I learn
everything about what they want.”
“San-I thought Master killed and hid people.” Her voice was a little timid with
that sentence.
“I do, but you need to learn how to act around others before you kill anyone.”
He looked around his club floor for a second and then pointed casually. “Tell
me about her.”
 Sansa followed his finger to see a tanned woman with long black hair, she
straddle a younger man in a loose blue shirt and wore next to nothing yet it
wasn't vulgar.
 “She's confident.” Said Sansa.
“Good. That's good, keep going.” Her Master encouraged.
 Sansa was determined to make her Master proud and forced herself to just  see.
 “The man she's with... he doesn't scare her. Even though he wants... wants to
use her. Use her like old Master did, not giving like new Master.” She paused
for a moment to push away thoughts of Joffrey Baratheon. “He keeps saying
things and gesturing like he's trying to explain. Does she not understand him,
Master?”
 “Very perceptive.” He praised. “But you're looking more at him than her. She
pretends not to understand the local tongue, it makes her seem more exotic. You
can see it in her eyes, the understanding in them. It's in the way she speaks
as well, it's slow and calculated as though she doesn't know how to pronounce
the words and yet all per pauses are in the wrong place. It's not a lack of
understanding, it's her spinning a tale.” Sansa took in every word and
committed it to memory as best she could, he was taking the time to teach her
something and Sansa would happily learn it. “Alright, what can you tell me
about Oly?”
 Olyvar had moved from the old man and was now stood by the bar kissing a
curly-haired blonde similar to him in age; Sansa didn't know but his name was
Loras Tyrell.
“He's kissing another man,Mast-”
“Do you have a problem with that?” Petyr asked with curiosity.
“No, Master. They look happy. Old Master said that was wrong, disgusting. He
called them fag-”
 “Don't say that, Sweetling.” He cut her off again. “It won't end well if
anyone hears you say it, and if you have no problem with it then there is no
reason for a word so vulgar to come from such pretty lips.”
Petyr hated that so much destruction had been caused by the gender of who
people fucked rather than whothey fucked. Secrets had so much more power than
gender. Just went to show how most people focused on the entirely unimportant
things.
“Why is it vulgar, Master?” She asked.
Petyr thought for a moment, how should he put it so she'd understand?
“It makes them feel like Joffrey made you feel when he called you petor slut.”
 Sansa understood, those words had sometimes hurt more than the beatings and
cuts. Her Master was write about one thing, words often held more power than
actions.
“Okay Master, San-I won't say it.”
“Good girl, don't want you getting hurt.”
 The lesson continued and Petyr was rather pleased to find she was a fast
learner, after hours of practice, she was sporadically picking out little
details that were not obvious upon first glance. They took a brake after that
and Petyr made her another Italian cream soda which she was greatly
appreciative of; he thought maybe he'd found her new favourite drink. As he
returned a young man in a scruffy suit nearly walked into him and Petyr
instantly knew this one would really test Sansa's new skill. Once the drink was
in her hands and Littlefinger had sat by her side he set her on the new target.
“He's new, never been here before. What can you tell me about him?”
Again she followed his finger to a tall man with brown hair and a well cared
for beard.
 “He looks nervous and he likes Mads.” She observed, but there was more to it
than that. It had surprised her at how quickly she was learning what his staff
looked like and their names. “There's a line on his finger that he keeps
rubbing. Master, what is that?”
 “It's were his wedding ring should be.”
 “He's nervous but I don't know why.” Sansa was a little upset that she
couldn't read him like her Master wanted but he didn't seem angry or
disappointed.
 “I'll tell you then. He looks to work in an office from his clothes but they
aren't that expensive so he's not an executive or anywhere near the top.
There's a stain over the back of his shoulder that he's tried to clean off and
he looks exhausted, which means he likely has a new baby. As you say he's
nervous and from the fact he's taken his wedding ring off I'd say he doesn't
want his wife to know he's here looking at men or to be reminded that he's
married. Seeing the ring on his finger most likely makes him feel guilty and he
keeps rubbing his finger because he's used to wearing it.” They watched Mads
entertain the man for a moment before Petyr moved on to the next topic. “You
did very well, Sansa. Very well, I didn't expect you to pick it up quite this
quickly. It's getting late though and more people will come in now it's getting
dark.”
 Suddenly a muscular man with no shirt, short dirty blonde hair and bold green
eyes was by their side, Sansa hadn't seen much of him throughout the afternoon
and only had a vague memory of him taking an older woman with red hair
upstairs; the only reason she remembered it at all was because Petyr had
cringed and shrunk down until he was sure she'd gone.
 “Boss, your dog is scratching at your office door and barking.” They'd not
heard Lady over the music. “Think it wants to go out. And Lysa Arryn is asking
for you- well  demanding you- again. I told her you were at Lion and Stag and
she seemed to accept it after a while, too drunk to notice you sat right
there.”
“Thank you, Jeremy.”
Sansa frowned, why did the name Lysa sound so familiar?It was her Master's
voice to pull her back from her thoughts.
“What do you say we go and get Lady then go to the park like you wanted?”
 Sansa grinned, thoughts of the Lysa Arryn person completely gone.
“I'd like that.”
With that they went back to his office for Lady.
Chapter End Notes
     Lyrics are Afraid Of Heights by Billy Talent
***** Weep Little Lion Man *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 With Lady safely in the back of his car once more and Sansa strapped into the
seat beside him Petyr drove towards the park, another song drifting from the
stereo.
                              Forty days of rain.
                            Forty nights it poured.
                           I can't take it anymore,
                            it's getting overboard.
                                I lean forward.
                          Wandered through mountains,
                         ran through valley's so low.
                       Been down the road less traveled,
                            a million times before.
                     Went through hell to find my heaven,
                             crossing up my lines.
                     Went through hell to find my heaven,
                             fighting for my life.
                                        
What was left of the days light was quickly being obliterated by dark night, a
canopy of luminous celestial stars floated amongst an ocean of blackness. Some
were dull, nothing more than flickering every now and then as a nothing but
reminder they were there, while others were bold and bright like a proud knight
going into battle. Where once had hung magenta and purple was now inky and
coal, the sky transformed into a vast expanse of jet-black that engulfed all of
King's Landing as though Westeros had been swallowed whole by some kind of
leviathan.
 
                               Ten floors down,
                            I dove into the night.
                     The stars were in my eyes. I scream,
                             come on, hit me more.
                             Broken by the sound.
                             Blinded by the light.
                       You say it's do or die, I scream,
                             come on, hit me more
                         There's a choice to be made,
                        come on, what you waiting for.
                             Is that all you got?
                             Come on, hit me more.

                  "Float like a butterfly, Sting like a bee."
                 I want you to give me, your best Mohammed Ali
                                I lean forward
                                        
Sansa liked the melody of his latest song choice, it was catchy and memorable,
the male singers voice was a pleasurable accompaniment to the dark depths of
the evening.  A lively tempo that lifted them; elevate the spirit. Petyr had
never let Sansa stay out this late and it amazed her at the way King's Landing
lit up at night it was as if the city had become a beacon.
“... come on hit me more.” Sansa paused at that, is Master singing?Yes, yes he
was.“... that all you got. Come on hit me more.” Definitely singing and from
the mouse like volume of it he wasn't aware his singing had gone from mental to
verbal. It wasn't actually half bad.
His mumbled singing came to an abrupt stop when he parked his Aston in the
parking lot attached to the place Sansa so wanted to go; Lady seemed to perk up
too.
Lady was soon on her blue leather leash happily wandering through the park
investigating all the new smells, Sansa hated having to put Lady on a leash but
knowing it didn't hurt the Wolfdog and that it would soon come off comforted
her. There were a couple of other late night dog walkers as well and Sansa
found herself thinking that each animal they passed was cuter than the last,
especially the little golden puppy that her Master said was a Retriever.
The inky evening was cool and Petyr enjoyed the silence and the content smile
that coated Sansa's lips; he was the one to have made her happy and he knew
that no one else could have done that. After a time he found himself with
sinister thoughts and started to wonder how quickly he could teach his redhead
all she needed to know, the idea of her helping kill Joffrey sounded so good to
him. However, all thoughts of Joffrey Lannister and death faded from his mind
as the parks large pond came into view, it was either a very large pong or a
tiny lake Petyr wasn't entirely certain, Sansa adored looking out over the
cliffs to see the ocean so he'd known she'd love this. As expected her eyes lit
up and even though none of that azure light graced his face Petyr knew they
were beautiful. Silvery moonlight bounced from the water's surface with a deep
blue glow, the universe did that just for her he decided; to match her eyes.
He let her walk Lady for as long as she liked, even after the Wolfdog had grown
bored and longed for the large dog bed Baelish had purchased for her; as long
as his girl was happy he'd let her drag the tired dog about. He was thankful
when she finally yawned because  he'd long ago joined Lady in wanting to go
home.
“I think we should go back to the house, Sweetling.” He told her softly,
placing a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the direction of his grey Aston
Martin. “You sound tired.”
For a reason Sansa couldn't understand the walk back to the car hadn't taken as
long as the one away from the Aston, yet the red-headed girl didn't think too
much about it. Lady jumped into the small back seat and let Petyr take her
leash off once he'd opened the door for her while Sansa buckled herself in and
waited patiently looking up at the supernatural crescent moon. She felt the car
wobble a little when he shut his door and couldn't help but smile as he brushed
a little none existent dust from the dashboard.
“Master,” She began. “why do you have this car and the other one? They're not
like other cars I've seen. You don't normally show off with things, you do it
with what you say.” Six weeks ago Sansa never would have been confident enough
to say that. “You have nice things of course but-”
 “The Aston Martin DB5 is the classic bond car.” He stated like being abused
from the age of eight was no reason not to know that. “Everyone loves this car!
And as for my DBS I was going to get it anyway but then the other James Bond
movie came out and just made it better. I thought about a Bond car collection
for a while. My cars are God damn icons.” He grinned. “We all have to indulge
somewhere, Sansa. It's true I indulge more than most but I love my cars.”
“Okay.” She acknowledged. “But Master... who is James Bond?”
 Petyr felt his blood pressure sky rocket and for a second thought he'd pass
out, then he realised he wasn't talking to a arrogant teenager, she'd spend
most of her life chained to a bed; of course she didn't know about movies and
Ian Fleming novels. 
“Alright, we're getting Chinese take out and you're watching the classics. It's
my fault, I didn't educate you.”
Sansa giggled, she knew she'd started something he was passionate about and
instantly knew this educationas he put it was going to take up the next few
days; not that she mined in the slightest. Note to self, never bring up
Master's cars again.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
Two days or so passed by and with each twenty-four hours the weather grew
hotter, gold sun dominated the sky and jumping into the ocean was beginning to
look pretty good to Sansa; or at least it would have if she could swim. That
cloudless day Petyr had moved on to lesson two which had brought them out into
Petyr's back yard, he called it the back yard but there wasn't another house
around for a good five mile and no fence in sight,  back yard just seemed to
referred to the grassy area between his beautifully cared for patio and the
cliffs. About thirty feet from the patio Petyr had set up a small table that
had been covered over with several guns of varying size, that was the most
description Sansa could muster, and boxes of ammunition; rested on the very end
on one of the boxes was Copper. With it's back to the far off cliffs stood a
large human silhouette paper target with several others on the floor waiting to
replace it.
 Lady had wanted to come with Sansa and the dark-haired man but for obvious
reasons Petyr had refused and instead tied her leash to one of the heavy metal
chairs that called his luxury patio home. Sansa had been surprised when he'd
said her next lesson was to be firing a weapon but he'd seemed confident that
she could pick it up and his faith in the redhead had given her the boost she'd
needed. Sometime she found herself wondering if he had any idea just how much
confidence he gave her.
Petyr wore a pair of plain black slacks and oxfords with a dark green polo
shirt that showed off his surprisingly toned and muscular arms. The scent of
fresh cigarette smoke lightly drifted from his skin without being overpowering
and Sansa was beginning to rather enjoy that smell; she adored the way he
tasted of smoke and whiskey when he kissed her.  The redhead herself wore black
converse as well as a sleeveless top made of a thin orange fabric with a
jewelled neckline and a high-low hem, matched with it was a pair of black
sailor shorts the buttons to which were bright silver. Sansa had been nervous
about wearing shorts at first because of the scars on her legs but as her body
had started to tan ever so slightly she'd found them fading a little which had
been a God send to her. It was just them and Lady there, no one else, so that
was a second boon.
 “I'm starting you with a Glock 29.” He began slowly so his girl could keep up.
“Now, this is going to be loud when it's fired but you can't go dropping it to
cover your ears, it's not a toy.” He seemed please when she nodded, eyes locked
on the weapon in his hands. “Good girl. Alright, the 29 weighs about twenty-
seven ounces when unloaded, that's this section.” Petyr held up the Glock minus
its magazine, tilting it to prove to her that it was indeed unloaded. “This is
where the extra weight comes from.” He held up the magazine that he'd had her
load earlier. “Do you follow so far?”
“Yes, Master.” She said still looking at the Glock. “It's loud and heavy but I
can't drop it.”
 Petyr nodded and then continued, out of the corner of his eye he could see
Lady pulling on her leash to be with Sansa but the metal chair remained
unmoving.
“Here are your sights, this is what helps you to aim. You'll line these up with
your target which will be our paper friend over there. The basics are
essentially point and shoot, we'll work you up from there.”
“Alright Master.”
“The magazine,” He held up said item. “slides in like this and now you have a
loaded weapon. When it's loaded you point it at no one unless you want them
dead.” He seemed to stress that fact. “To release the mag just press this
little button and it slides straight back out.” Sansa watched patiently as he
moved to face the paper target. “Take the safety off like so, aim but don't
hold your breath, and fire.”
What followed was the loudest noise Sansa had ever heard and it made her jump
out of her skin almost, when he'd said loud she hadn't quite expected that, at
the same time there was something familiar about it and thoughts of her parents
filled Sansa's head but she pushed them away just as quickly as they'd
appeared.  Looking over to the target Sansa could easily see a small hole that
let gold light through in the silhouettes head.
 “That's what I'm going to teach you. Would you like a go, Sweetling?” He asked
with a smile, gun lowered to face the ground.
As soon as she nodded Petyr was ushering her towards him, once she was no more
than a step from him he kissed her forehead and handed her the Glock. It was
heavy just as he'd said but Sansa was determined to make him proud, she
wouldn't cover her ears, she wouldn't jump again, and she certainly would drop
the weapon. Quickly and skilfully he moved her into the correct stance while
going over everything again in a bullet point version.
“Ready?”
With that one word Sansa knew that if she said  no or that she was scared he'd
take the gun from her and  wait as long as she needed before bringing it near
her again. None of that was needed though, Sansa was ready.
“Yes.”
“Alright then, when you're ready and remember what I told you about breathing
this morning.”
Sansa did exactly that, she was nervous but knew her Master was there behind
her; her safety net. Petyr waited patiently as she prepared herself and smiled
seeing the determination on her face. A few seconds later  the gun went off
again. Bang! Her heart bounced around her chest cavity like a scattering cat
but to her pleasure she didn't jump, scream or drop it. Petyr's arms came up
behind her and took the gun before they both looked over to the target.
“Em, Sweetling. Remind me never to piss you off, I like my cock where it is.”
Looking up at the target blue eyes realised what he was talking about, she'd
hit the target... but in the crotch and she could feel her Master cringe a
little.
“Sorry, Master.”
“Don't be, some men completely deserve a bullet to the dick.” He told her
nonchalantly. “You hit the target and if anyone was still coming at you after
thatthey're not human.”
Time ticked by quickly after that, Petyr guided her through every single step,
corrected her when needed and showered his girl with encouragement at every
opportunity. The late afternoon sun cast a heated glow over Baelish's house,
well his and Sansa's home now, rays travelling through a crystal clear sky.
Grass was warm to the touch and Lady had gone through two bowls of water before
taking a nap under the large metal chair in the shade, they'd heard her snoring
at one point. Sansa could hear waves crash delicately against the not to far
cliffs and hear birds chirping in the trees, at least she could until her
Master's cellphone started ringing. He answered on the second ring.
“Yes, Gwendolyn?”
Sansa found herself wondering who this woman was,  it's not jealousy he's just
never mentioned her. Sansa tried to convince herself and failed. There was
talking on the other end of the line that she couldn't quite here and then the
older man started to speak again.
“Now? It's Sunday even Cersei isn't at Lion and Stag.” There was more muffled
talking and Petyr sighed. “Fine. I'm sorry Tywin bothered you on a Sunday, how
is Lukas?”
 Petyr didn't give a damn but asked anyway, he listened patiently as Gwendolyn
told him of her autistic son and the picnic she and her husband had taken him
on before hanging up the phone.
 “Sweetling, I'm sorry but I have to go to work. Tywin has called a meeting
about the company we're taking over. I'll be back in an hour or so, two max.”
“Okay, Master.” She didn't want him to go but knew he had too, it was his job
after all. “Shall I clean this up?” A hand gestured to the table of guns.
 “Em, nothing is loaded so yes, but do it slowly and carefully. Set it out on
my office floor and I'll put it all back in it's proper place when I get back.”
He kissed her forehead and turned to leave as he reached the patio he petted
Lady's head and then called out to his girl. “Sansa, you can let Lady off her
leash now.”
 With that he was gone, back to the world of Petyr Baelish CFO rather than
Petyr Baelish her Master.
                                        
                                     XXXX
 
 
The boardroom was where Petyr found himself a short time late. It was large and
painted a nondescript grey, one wall was entirely glass that looked out over
the financial district of King's Landing while the other grey walls were
decorated in little bits of artwork, no one had ever really looked at them
before so no one knew what they were paintings of. In the centre was a large
rectangular table made of glass with black leather chairs flanking either side
and a single one with it's back to the windows at the tables head; Petyr often
wondered if a ultraviolet light would reveal the words  property of Tywin
Lannister.
When he entered he discovered Varys was already there along with Pycelle, both
were in their usual suits and Petyr was thankful he'd decided to don his own.
Pycelle was Lion and Stag's CLO or Chief Legal Officer, the one responsible
for overseeing and identifying any and all legal issues in all departments of
Tywin's company, and Petyr bloody hated him. He was so slow and constantly
dancing around what he was trying to say. Varys as CHRO didn't have to be in
most meetings that Tywin himself called, he dealt with people not actual
business matters but Baelish was certain the bald man knew more than he let on.
Once upon a time he'd have found Tyrion Lannister there too as CMO, Chief
Marketing Officer, Tyrion knew how to sell anything to anyone, he could make
most people think whatever he wanted them to and hardly say a word; yet the
little lion was gone and had been for years. Petyr actually missed the youngest
Lannister child, he was the only one with intellect unlike his sister who just
liked to think she was the smartest person in the room; Jaime didn't pretend to
be a genius and that was the only reason Petyr could ever even think of having
a shred of respect for the man. Cersei had taken over Tyrion's role after
chasing him away but she wasn't any good at it, in fact the only reason Cersei
was still at Lion and Stag was because she carried the name Lannister.
Speak of the devil. Cersei entered the room a few steps behind her father and
was followed by her blonde bastard of a son who tapped away on his phone. All
three slumped down into their chairs; Tywin at its head with his daughter and
grandson on either side of him, Petyr sat between the lioness and Varys while
Pycelle was forced to flank Joffrey.  Serves the fucker right, thought Baelish.
“As you all know, Jaime is in Dorne to begin discussions for taking over  Vaith
Incorporated.  Currently Daeron Vaith is looking through every single thought
to try and avoid our takeover but from what Ja im e has told me Vaith has no
chance. We will have Vaith Incorporated for our own.”
“Oberyn Martell is not going to like this.” Said Pycelle. “He controls almost
everything in Dorne.”
 “To be perfectly honest we don't give a damn.” Cersei hissed.
“Cersei do shut up.” Tywin growled before turning his attention to his CFO.
“Baelish what is the finances looking like on this?”
Petyr leaned forwards a little letting his fingers rest in a pyramid and
cleared his throat,  I'd rather be with Sansa.
“Lion and Stag either owns or holds the majority share in several powerful
companies throughout Westorose and with young Joffrey's engagement to Margery
Tyrell I'm sure we'll soon control them as well. Due to this there isn't a
single issue with funds. I've looked it over and buying Vaith Incorporated
won't make a dent in our resources.” He explained while mentally killing
Joffrey with his own phone, that bloody beeping was beginning to piss him off.
“The biggest issue will be that the company is bankrupt and in debt up to it's
tits.” Joffrey snorted. “ Which means we'll have to pay off its debt fast. Once
that's done and the company is back up with real management we should be able
to remake our losses in six to eight months.”
 “So soon?” Asked Cersei sceptically.
 “I agree, after all that legal action you think a few months will do it?”
Muttered Pycelle.
 “If you leave it to me then yes, six to eight months.” He shot back with his
trademark smug smile. “I and Varys can work together to re-staff, he has the
resources to get the staff and I know where the best executive are to be
plucked from other companies.”
Suddenly Varys who had been so quiet started to speak.
“If we bring in younger staff for the basic bottom of the pit jobs we won't
have to pay them very much. I'm sure we can leave Jaime there as acting CEO
until things are running smoothly and then he can return to King's Landing.
There's no use getting new high level executives until we've recouped our
losses when we can do everything from here and channel it though Jaime in
Dorne.”
A scowl of hatred came from Cersei and if looks could kill they all would have
been attending Varys' funeral the next day, the beautiful blonde hated to be
apart from her beloved brother but Tywin had insisted that Jaime went. The
Lannister patriarch wasn't stupid he knew there was more than just brotherly
and sisterly love going on there.
“Excellent- Joffrey are you listening to any of this?” Asked the elder blonde.
“What?” The twenty year old looked up at his grandfather. “Why should I have to
listen to this? It has nothing to do with me.”
“You are Vice President of this entire company-”
“I have more important things to do.” Joffrey complained loudly.
Varys couldn't help but mumbled under his breath exactly what the rest of them
were thinking.
“Yes, drugs.”
Tywin sighed, everyone was far too lenient on that bastard of a boy especially
his mother, who just seemed to let him do whatever he wanted. One day it would
all come crashing down and Petyr would make sure he was the one to do it; Sansa
would be by his side when the downfall came.
Pycelle opened his mouth to speak but he never got that far because Roose
Bolton beat him to it. The tall balding man stood with his arms folded over his
chest and his back rested against the boardroom door.
“If we can get back to business.” Roose wasn't one for pleasantries. “As head
of security-”
“What do you want Bolton?” Cersei demanded. “This is a private meeting for high
level executives.”
“Hmm.” It was obvious to everyone that Bolton wasn't a fan of the lioness. “I
need to speak to Tywin and since Baelish was here too I thought I'd pop in.”
Roose pushed off the door frame and came further into the room. “As of late my
security team has been stretched rather thin and I need more men.”
“How about you stop complaining and just do your job?” Cersei bit out.
“The budget allows for more men and Roose is right since moving the men around
headquarters has been stretched.” Petyr said calmly earning himself a glare
from the lioness.
“There are plenty. This building has a small army.”
“I want to bring my son and his men in to rebuild our numbers. We can have
Ramsay's men act as night security otherwise from the hours my men are working
there's going to be no one to hold your vault.”
“Bolton makes a valid point, Cersei.” Her father began in a tone that said just
stay quiet and look pretty.“We can't have anyone getting into my vault.”
If there was one place Tywin didn't want the wrong people going it was his
personal vault, that was where he kept the records to his  otherbusiness, it
was all in codes with a keyword that only he knew but still, extra security
couldn't hurt.
“Pycelle I suggest that you start vetting Ramsay's men.” Petyr smiled but
Pycelle didn't look too impressed.
“Very well, Bolton have your son compile a list of his men and give them to my
assistant. Now, if there is nothing else, Bolton. Get out.”
 With a grumble Roose left, the door slamming shut behind him.
 “Two Boltons Gods help us all.” Mumbled Cersei.
 Joffrey abruptly stood and stormed out words of anger on his lips that no one
could make out beyond their obvious anger. Petyr nor any of the other
executives seemed to care what it was about, not even Cersei herself.
 “Varys I want you and Baelish to figure out how much Martell already knows
about us taking over Vaith Incorporated.”
 “Of course.” Said Varys' cool and calm voice.
 
“I think that's about everything, so we're done here.”
That was as much of a thanks for coming in on your Sunday off as Tywin
Lannister ever gave,  no one really expected anything else at this point in
their careers and were just pleased to be dismissed.
 Finally Petyr could go back to his girl.
                                        
                                     XXXX
 
The Aston Martin DBS pulled up outside his home, late afternoon sun bouncing
off the hood, Petyr silenced the cars purr  and stepped out. A cigarette
hanging loosely from his lips, it nearly fell to the floor when he looked up to
find the last person in the world he'd expected see stood outside his front
door. Was a quiet afternoon with Sansa too much to ask? Lady was growling
inside the house, a warning to the blonde outside his house. Said man spun
round.
 “Ahh there you are, Petyr. I've been stood here for fifteen fucking minutes,
and when did you get a dog?”
“Tyrion Lannister as I live and breathe.” Petyr took the last drag of his
cigarette and then threw the but to the floor crushing it under his foot. “You
said you wouldn't be back in King's Landing until next month.”
“Well, things change.” He said dismissively. “Now would you please let me in? I
need to take a piss.”
“Fine, but don't make an sudden movements or a dog is going to rip your balls
off.”
Petyr stepped in front of the little lion and opened up the front door, walking
inside he found Lady ready to pounce.
“Lady sit!”
The wolfdog obeyed instantly knowing her Master was no threat, her snarl faded
away and her eyes grew loving again. Petyr petted her head.
“Christ that thing is bigger than I am.” Exclaimed Tyrion, Petyr just chuckled.
“Tyrion this is Lady. Don't piss her off because she will use you as a chew
toy.”
Petyr wasn't joking, he'd helped Sansa to train her and Lady would protect
Sansa at all cost. The dark-haired man had never been one for pets but Lady
seemed to be the exception and Petyr had actuality grown rather fond of her.
“Message received.” Tyrion's words pulled his thoughts back to the present.
“Although, Petyr Baelish named his dog  Lady?”
“I didn't name her.”
“Then who did?”
He responded absent-mindedly while walking further into the vestibule and
letting the front door close behind himself and the Lannister, Petyr wasn't
stupid, he knew exactly where Sansa was; hiding up the stairs that curled
around the wall just out of sight.
“Sweetling, could you come down here please.” It wasn't a question. “It's
alright, the imp won't hurt you.”
Tyrion's bold eyes watched as pale feet appeared on the stairs, cautiously
taking each step slowly  and one at a time, feet led to pale legs covered in
little scars that were half faded and finally bold red hair. The color of fire
and rubies blazing into his soul like something otherworldly. The instant that
she reached the bottom step Sansa positioned herself to hide behind her Master
as though he were a shield. Lady padded over to her Mistress and sat beside
her.
“Is she-” Tyrion couldn't say it, couldn't... couldn't... just couldn't.
“If you're trying to ask me if she's a certain Stark... yes, she is.” Petyr
turned to his girl. “Sansa Sweetling, could you say helloto Tyrion for me?”
Tyrion had never heard Baelish so calm and kind  before , it was almost as
though he were a different man. The young woman's eyes never left the dark
floor, one hand gripped Baelish's suit jacket and the other rested on Lady's
head. Hesitantly the young woman started to stutter.
 “H... H... Hello... Tyrion.”
“Hello Sansa.” The dwarf breathed.
“Sweetling, Tyrion will be staying with us for a little while. He wasn't meant
to show up for another month so that's why I didn't tell you. Is it okay?”
 Sansa knew Petyr would kick Tyrion out in an instant if she said no, he'd do
anything for her. However, her Master wouldn't have let the small man anywhere
near her if Tyrion was dangerous.
“Yes, Master.”
The blonde raised an eyebrow at that particular word.
“Good girl. Why don't you take Lady and go draw me something? Maybe another one
of Lady?”
“Okay Master.”
She beamed and then took Lady off into the house, Tyrion didn't know to where.
The blonde waited until he thought the young woman was out of earshot before
uttering another word.
“Master?”
Petyr didn't answer to begin with, in fact he sighed.
“Settle in and take that piss you wanted, then I'll fill you in on that long
story.”
Tyrion carried a dark green duffel bag, that had previously gone unnoticed, and
followed Petyr up the stairs and through Baelish's home. The blonde man
couldn't help but take in Littlefinger's décor, the man certainly liked purple.
The guest room he showed Tyrion to was the same one that he'd slept in on
Sansa's first night there, not that the Lannister knew any of that of course,
the little lion dumped his bag on the bed and turned back to the Cleaner.
“Once you're settled come down to my office, it's down the stairs and to the
right. I'll put dinner on.”
After that Petyr was gone nothing to suggest he'd ever been there save for the
light footsteps leading away down the hall. Tyrion had a lot of questions and
that may have been the understatement of the year, Sansa wasn't dead. His
sister hadn't killed all the Starks which meant she'd done something far worse
to the beautiful redhead. Yes, Tyrion Lannister certainly had questions.
Chapter End Notes
     Song Lyrics are Hit Me More by Scott Sapp
***** The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than my usual ones but
     it's a sort of filler chapter so I can explain some little details.
 Tyrion Lannister found himself outside Petyr's home office just after the sun
set with thousands of questions on his lips. Petyr had seated at his desk
typing away on his laptop, the suit jacket he'd been wearing when they'd
entered the house cuddled the back of his chair, Baelish had rolled the sleeves
of his devil red shirt up and his tie was gone, he glanced down to his tattoo
sleeve and remembered his girl tracing the pattens.
 “Shut the door.” He spoke without looking up. “I don't want Sansa hearing
this.”  Not yet anyway.
 Tyrion did as Petyr asked and shut the door with a soft click before falling
down into one of the black leather chairs that faced Petyr's office desk.
 “Well, I think my first question is going to be how the  fuck is Sansa Stark
still alive?”
Questioning eyes watched the Cleaner as he leaned forwards just a bit and let
out a quiet sigh as though he was preparing himself to tell a story.
 “Trust me, I was as surprised as you. It turns out your sister took a pet for
Joffrey when she had the Starks killed.”
 Tyrion settled into his chair and rested his head in his hand.
“So how did you find her?” Her asked in a calmer tone of voice.
“You know what my otherjob is right?” Tyrion nodded. “Joffrey was arrested for
drug possession and Cersei had me clean the house. I found a dead prostitute
and a girl so scared and filthy I thought she was a brunette.” Petyr cleared
his throat. “When I cleaned her off I saw that red hair and I just knew, it had
to be her. He had her chained to his bed for the better part of a decade. When
I took Sansa she thought that she was to belong to me, that's why she calls me
Master.”
“Childish bastard!”
 Petyr didn't answer that with words but his stormy eyes completely agreed with
the Lannister.
“She's learning how to read and write, it keeps her occupied. I can't keep her
cooped up here forever so no one sees her though.”
 “Maybe you should dye her hair.” Tyrion suggested while he shuffled in his
seat.
 “Maybe I should dye it for her. Cersei destroyed her whole family and then
gave Sansa as a pet, I think death would have been kinder for her.” Said Petyr.
“Well she seems happy now, afraid of me of course, but happy.”
“The first night she was here I gave her a shirt to put on and do you know what
she did? She pushed it away and told me that she wasn't allowed to ware
clothes.” There was anger in his tone.
“Fuck.” Petyr shot him a look that said yeah no shitbut remained silent. “I
could live with the guns and the drugs but when it started with the children
Father went too far. And then Robert got suspicious.”
 “You wanted to destroy your father and Robert wanted it all to himself.” Petyr
summarised.
 “You were in on it too, Littlefinger. Ned Stark was a good Detective, with us
he had a great case built. Just a little more and he could have proved it all,
right down to Joffrey being Jaime's son.” The blonde looked down eyes locked in
thought. “How did Cersei find out?”
 “I suspect it was another police officer, if Tywin doesn't own them Cersei
does. But to kill everyone and burn the house to the ground?” How Cersei had
gotten away with it was beyond Petyr.
“My father still hasn't forgiven her for that has he? She drew way too much
attention.”
 Tyrion stood and walked over to Petyr's mini bar and poured himself a drink,
the blonde had never been one for whiskey, he preferred wine, but it was all
Petyr seemed to keep around and so Tyrion accepted what he could get his hands
on; there was no way in hell Baelish would tell the Lannister about his wine
cellar because he knew he'd have no wine by the end of the evening. The dwarf
took a long gulp before speaking again.
“Robert dead in a hunting accident and his best friend's family murdered.”
“We all know she wanted Robert dead, it was only a matter of time. I had no
idea what she was planning because she herself didn't fully know until she'd
done it.”
“Yes, why did you help me?” Tyrion downed his glass and set it down before the
half empty bottle.
“Because believe it or not I think you're a goodperson, in the ways it counts
anyway, and that is all too rare now. Judging someone shouldn't be based on how
tall they are or the size of their cock, it should be on how they play the
game. Just because you're half their size doesn't mean you deserve half their
respect. You're far smarter than them and I value intelligence.”
“That sounds dangerously close to being a complement, I didn't know you cared.”
 “And you carry the name Lannister which can be useful. Now that the verbal
fucking is over are you going to tell me why the fuck you came back?” Petyr
grinned. “When you left a decade ago you said you'd never come back.”
 “They say home is where the heart is.” Mused the dwarf. “And guess who I saw
in Dorne, Jaime. Darling big brother didn't see me of course, can't have word
getting back to my sister. The truth is that I'm sick of hiding, we need to rip
apart my father and sister and not just for the years of exile and what they
did to Sansa. We need to because if we don't they'll rule everything and I for
one don't want world run by Lannisters, even if I am one.”
 “So you want to try again.” Petyr deadpanned.
“No, Ned Stark was a good Detective surrounded by liars and evil men. We can't
do it his way, not again. No police, no court case, I'm just going to kill him
and watch everything he's built crumble.”
 “We should set to work then.” Yes, destroy all the Lannisters that sounded
just about perfect.
 “Maybe once we've had that dinner I was promised.”
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
 The two men and Sansa sat around Petyr's long dining table, the fresh scent of
chicken and herbs filled the air as it danced with rich wine; or juice in
Sansa's case she didn't really like wine. Petyr and Tyrion took the seats at
either head of the table and Sansa had the spot to the immediate left of her
Master, if his redhead shuffled her chair any closer to him she'd be on his
knee; which Petyr would actually rather enjoy if Tyrion Lannister hadn't have
been there to watch it. Lady lay on the flood by Sansa's chair with her eyes
locked on the lion, relaxed but ready to pounce if needed; Lady was always the
protector.
 “This is delicious, Baelish.” Said Tyrion breaking the silence. “I had no idea
you could cook, seems you're just full of surprises. Don't you think, Sansa?”
 It was clear that the blonde lion was trying to be nice to her but Sansa was
still cautious of the stranger, her pale face turned towards Petyr in search of
encouragement and she found it quickly; her eyes only flashed up high enough to
see his nose but that was enough and all she needed.
 “Master... Master is very talented.” She managed to voice and Petyr felt his
heart swell with pride for the girl. “He's good to Sansa.”
 Petyr really did hate that she used the third person again but he understood
why and wouldn't call her out on it... for now.
 “I'm sure he is.” Responded the lion with a soft smile as he took a bite of
chicken.
 Dinner went on and once Petyr started a conversation the awkwardness of dinner
faded away, Sansa was still nervous but Tyrion rarely asked her a question
again that night which eased her worry. As the two men talked Sansa tried to
just eat rather than making an input and neither man forced her. When their
meal was done with Sansa helped to take the plates and empty wine bottle into
the kitchen and load up the dishwasher, as she did Petyr slipped his arms
around her waist and pressed a kiss to her neck; he whispered into her ears the
words  my brave girl and Sansa knew he meant it.
 It was less than five minutes later that Tyrion started to complain, stating
that he wanted to go out to The Mockingbird. No matter how many times or how
many different ways Baelish said  this isn't wise Tyrion would remain adamant
they were going; eventually Petyr gave in saying something about if Tyrion died
it was his own fault. There was no danger to Petyr himself and in his eyes the
world would continue to turn without the little lion.
 Petyr drove calmly through the night towards his club, Sansa beside him in the
passenger seat and Lady in the back with Tyrion. She'd rolled the window down a
little to let in the cold night air that often helped to sooth her concerns and
worries, fingers took comfort in the delicate fur of her beloved Copper. Petyr
would have liked to leave Tyrion Lannister to his own devices in a hotel room
but there were eyes and ears everywhere in King's Landing and more importantly
not all of them reported to Baelish. It was safer for the little lion to stay
with them.
 The rarely used back entrance found itself back in action as the outer door
opened to accommodate Petyr, Sansa, Lady and of course Tyrion into the
building, the hallway lead to a door that opened up directly beside Petyr's
office. The three people and Lady slipped inside quickly without anyone
noticing them.
 “I'll get you a private room, if anyone sees you Tywin and Cersei will know in
five seconds flat.” Stated Petyr while taking Sansa's jacket for her. “I can do
without that shit. Shall I send Ros down for you?”
 “She's still here? Wonderful! You, my dear Baelish know how to keep your
customers happy.”
 “You just better start spending some of that Dornish coin.” Petyr smiled.
“If it's Ros then I most certainly will be doing.”
 It didn't take too long for Ros to be called down into Petyr's office, finding
Tyrion Lannister there after ten years was a bit of a shock and made her feel
incredibly old when stood next to Baelish's little girl; Ros had been seventeen
when she started at The Mockingbird. Before Ros wandered off out the room she
looked to Petyr and held out her hand, from which hung a long black wig with
loose curls.
 “Before I forget I brought this down for your girl, Alayne. That red hair of
hers is rather noticeable and from the way you hide her when she's here I
thought it would be helpful.”
 Petyr took the jet black wig from Ros and watched as she left with Tyrion
before looking back down to the fake hair in his hands. It was long and the
color of midnight that he thought would suit her wonderfully, the ends curled
in loose ringlets and once on she'd have a half fringe making her look utterly
different.
 “Here Sweetling, put this on for me.” Sansa took the wig and just looked at it
for a moment with curiosity. “I don't want anyone recognising you.”
 Anyone could recognise her and the fact that they hadn't already was just
luck, only the Gods knew how many men Joffrey had loaned Sansa out to and that
fact alone disgusted him. Petyr pulled Sansa's ponytail free and wrapped it up
in a bun so he could straighten the black wig, he was right, she looked like a
whole new person. No longer Sansa, she was Alayne. The wig made her look older
by a few years, maybe twenty-one, but those eyes would never change. She hid
them away from him but every now and again he'd catch a glimpse of them as she
looked at something that wasn't him and Petyr would smile at their beauty.
Those eyes really would never change, they would always be Sansa,  his Sansa.
“There, like a whole new person.” He tucked a few black strands behind her ear.
“No one will ever recognise you, just me.”
 He was so close that she could hear his heart beating calmly in his chest and
feel the ending of his breath as he exhaled, the scent of his expensive cologne
teased her nostrils along with mint from his hot breath, months ago that would
have terrified Sansa beyond words but now she took comfort in those little
things.
“Yes, Master.” She said, blue eyes not quite daring enough to look higher than
his open collar buttons. “Safer that way.”
“Do you want another one of those Italian Cream Sodas you like?” He asked
curiously before pressing a kiss to his girl's forehead.
Sansa nodded happily, Lady however just looked tired and stretched before
collapsing onto the black leather couch with her head rested on her paws. Petyr
liked seeing Sansa happy, that was how she was meant to look and it fed his ego
that he was the one to make her that way. With one more kiss, this time to her
supple pink lips, Petyr left his office to make Sansa her drink, throwing a
stay hereover his shoulder as he went.
 Music played and his whores did their jobs, everything was normal for The
Mockingbird and that was the way Littlefinger liked it; he could do without
some strange problem popping up when he had not only the only living Stark in
his office but also the dwarf at the top of Cersei Lannister's kill list
upstairs. The suit clad man quickly made his way over to the large circular bar
and behind it to mix Sansa her drink, he'd made the drink last time not because
he thought she'd like it, Petyr had done it on autopilot. Seeing Sansa sat at
the bar had stirred up so many memories of Catlyn, she'd been the one to try
most of his drinks when they were young and Petyr had been learning bar work.
I suppose I should help my baby brother she'd said. Baelish would voice none of
this to Sansa though, it would only upset her. No matter how he'd ended up
making Italian Cream Soda for her it was done now, she liked it and Petyr would
continue to make it for her;  only him though he didn't trust anyone else and
Petyr liked the personal touch of the act.
 Azah passed him as he reached for a glass, wearing another one of her neon
tight dresses, tonights choice being yellow, and greeted him with a  hey Boss,
Petyr only nodded in acknowledgement. Suddenly as if from nowhere Katrina
appeared beside him, that girl was always late or high, occasionally both, but
he'd be lying if he said she wasn't the best bartender in all of King's
Landing. She wore a  very low cut black top with a tartan mini skirt and
fishnet stockings, her dyed black hair hung from a high ponytail and her lips
were a bold red. Katrina normally dressed more or less the same just the colors
changed, Petyr didn't know why and to be a hundred percent honest he didn't
care.
“I can do that for you, Boss.” She said in a northern accent.
“No. I'm done now anyway and you girls looked swamped as is.” He answered never
looking up. “Do you want me to bring Jeremy or Tyger on as a third bartender?”
 It was Azah who answered while pouring a vodka Martini.
“Nah, we're good.”
 Petyr didn't utter another word he just registered she'd spoken and picked up
the glass, his feet carried him out from behind the bar and off towards his
office but he only got a few steps before a certain lion with false antlers
caught his attention. Joffrrey and his so-called friends had just entered and
it seemed one of those problems he could do without had indeed popped up, it
only got worse when his stormy eyes looked over to his office to find Sansa
leaning against the door frame talking to Olyvar, she'd grown reasonably
comfortable around the blonde and despite wanting to keep the girl to himself
he was please she'd found a friend; it also wasn't lost on him that she'd
technically not left the office so hadn't disobeyed him. He'd expected her to
feel more at ease around Ros since she was a female but Olyvar knew how to
appear non-threatening while Ros always had that look in her eyes; the look
that said she'd do anything to be in control. Petyr admired that about Ros but
if she ever tried to take the club from him he'd burn it to the ground just to
be king of the ashes.
 Joffrey seemed oblivious to Sansa as well as Petyr himself and Baelish wasn't
going to look a gift horse in the mouth, calmly he started to walk back to his
office one step at a time with Sansa's drink resting in his hand. He thought
he'd gotten away with it too, until that bastard Kaegan Irelan started
speaking; he was obviously the more observant of the small group.
“Hey it's the clean up crew! That drink is a big girl-y for you don't you
think?”
 If Baelish had have been armed he'd have shot him. Now full aware of his
presence Joffrey joined in the pathetic teasing.
“I think it suits him, gay and girl-y go hand in hand.” Was that meant to be an
insult?If it was Joffrey was dumber than Petyr thought.
 “Enjoy your evening boys, I need to get back to my niece before Olyvar bores
her to death.” Petyr said dismissively.
 The older man made to walk away but stopped dead in his tracks when Joffrey
pointed a long finger out at Sansa. For a second his heart ceased to beat.
Thankfully the black wig half covered her face and gave his girl a fringe.
“That'syour niece?” Why do people keep saying that?“How can anything that
finebe in any way related to you?” He started to laugh then and Petyr knew
another stupid comment was coming. “Is she a good girl for you, Baelish? Do you
wish you were her Daddyrather than Uncle?”
 “Joffrey enjoy the girls and the drinks. Oh and leave Alayne alone, her dog is
rather quick to protect her, wouldn't want you getting bitten.”
 With that Petyr was gone, leaving the annoying brat alone with his friends as
he made his way back to his office. As he approached he noticed Sansa looked
alright talking to Oly but would rather not, Baelish handed Sansa her drink and
quickly turned her so she had her back to Joffrey and his goons.
“Alayne was just telling me about the new trick she taught Lady.” Olyvar
informed his boss.
 “Oly I need you to make sure Joffrey and his friends stay entertained for a
while. But keep an eye on him, you know what the brat is like when he thinks he
owns the place.”
 “Can do. Bye Alayne.”
 With that Oly turned and walked away from Littlefinger's office. Everything
was silent for a few moments save for the music filling the club but Sansa
eventually broke it, her body tense.
“Are you alright, Master?”
 “Of course Sweetling.” He kissed her forehead, something that had become a
habit. “Let's go back into my office.”
“Can we go home?” She asked quietly.
 “Not until Tyrion is finished, I don't want to risk him being seen.”
 Sansa sighed, it was late and she wanted to go home away form all the people,
and Joffrey. However, she'd do as she was told.
 “You don't have a drink.” His girl observed as Petyr shut the office door
behind them.
“Well, how about you drink your drink and I'll coat my tongue in something
else.”
 He grinned. If Tyrion was enjoying himself so would Baelish and Sansa.
***** A Clock That Doesn't Tick, A Pendulum That Doesn't Swing *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 Finally after what felt like forever Tyrion re-entered Petyr's office via the
back door, which Ros shut as soon as the blonde was inside.    Tyrion found
Petyr behind his large desk typing one-handed, the other used to support a
sleeping Sansa who had curled up in his lap   with Copper held to her chest  ,
Lady was stretched out on the leather couch still dozing and Tyrion was more
than fine with that; Lady didn't seem to like him much.
“Well I must say, Ros has gotten even better.”
 There was a glass of half drunk ale in his hand that sloshed with each
gesture, nearly spilling when he crashed down onto the couch. The thud
disturbed Lady quickly growled in warning causing Tyrion to stand again with an
expression that said   don't eat me,   Petyr smiled at that but didn't stop
working.
“He doesn't like me does he?”
“Considering Lady is a girl  I'd say no, she' s   not too fond of you. That and
she's trained to protect Sansa.”
 Tyrion chugged the last of his ale and set the glass down precariously on
Petyr's coffee table.
“I'm surprised that girl is speaking to you let alone happy enough to come here
and fall asleep in you lap.”
 “My girl is stronger than she looks. Brave. At first it surprised me too.”
Finally Baelish looked up from his laptop and over to Tyrion. “Your nephew was
here for a while.” There was a flash of concern in the blonde's eyes. “Don't
look so stricken, he got drunk rather quickly, I think you could have done a
merry jig in front of him and he wouldn't have recognised you. Mister Irelan
carried him out about twenty minutes ago along with Ramsay.”
“Master?”
 Sansa woke slowly and spoke with a groggy voice, Petyr's attention snapped
down to the redhead who had her cheek rested against his chest.
 “Yes, Sweetling?”
 “Can we go home now?” All Sansa wanted was her bed.
“Yes, we'll go home now and you can get some real sleep. Why don't you take
Lady to the car while I finish up here?”
 His girl nodded in understanding before waking her beloved pet and picking
Copper up only to lead Lady through the halls and over to the open main door
into the night air. It was colder than when they had entered the club, the sun
had gone to rest long ago leaving everything quiet despite the loud music
drifting from her Master's club. The smell of cigarette smoke reached her
nostrils with a delicate caress, it was different to the musky scent that came
from her Master and she found herself wondering if there were different kinds.
She supposed it didn't matter greatly. Lady found her way into the back seat
quickly and without fuss, the door closing behind her again. Sansa looked up to
the clear heavens filled with a plethora of stars each and every one of them
beautiful, one night a few months previous she'd asked Petyr about them had
he'd told her they all had names and that some grouped together to form
constellations, her favourite of which was one named Lupus because it was
shaped like a wolf. Sansa didn't know why but wolves were important to her, all
those animals in that toy store and Copper is the one that caught her
attention; he was the one she'd focused on.  Why are wolves so important?
 Sansa was happy, she had everything she could have ever wished for and more;
she was a person not a pet, she had a name all of her own rather than
derogatory statements, a home, a best friend in Lady and a Master who cared
deeply for her. Yes, Sansa was happy. Though if she could see the source of
cigarette smoke she would have felt something entirely different, for the
source was an evil man with hair black as coal and a smile of pure destruction.
Though the man was handsome on the outside with dazzling blue orbs the inside
was nothing but devilish horror, his name... Ramsay Bolton. Each intake of
soothing smoke caused a warm orange glow that lit his pale face showing his
angered snarl and the way his eyes shone with what could only be called
homicidal rage.
That's the fucking whore!His mind screamed, eyes locked on the slut. My whore!
That doesn't look dead to me Joffrey.Ramsay mental sneered while blowing out
thick smoke forcefully. That girl belonged to him and only him, Joffrey had
said she died, why had he taken that bastard's word for it? But that was
Baelish's car and Joffrey was a moron, Littlefinger took her for himself! She's
mine!He couldn't just take her though, he had a whore waiting for him and
Littlefinger had way too many cameras guarding his precious club, and he always
parked in direct line of one so no one would dare fuck with his adored Aston
Martins.
“So that bastard cleared up Joffrey's crap and took the whore as a prize, the
whore I won.” Suddenly Ramsay's cerulean eyes widened with realisation. “He's
the one I heard of the motherfucking roof that night.” A growl escaped his
lips.
Eventually the conniving whore thief showed his face, strutting out into the
parking lot  followed by a short man in a grey hoodie  via what Ramsay assumed
was a back door,   no one would have noticed them if one hadn't been looking.
Ramsay didn't care who the hooded man was he was far too focused on his slut
and Baelish, eyes watched as the hooded man reached for the passenger door
handle.
“Hey!” Petyr shouted out, causing the dwarf to come to a sudden halt in his
movements. “She gets he front seat.” He pointed at Sansa. “She always sits with
me. You get the back with Lady.”
Did that bitch just smile? She has no right to smile! None! That slut should
feel nothing but pain and fear.  Joffrey hadn't cared what she    felt but
Petyr and Ramsay did, it was just they wanted her to feel very different
things; Petyr wanted her to be happy and feel pleasure while Ramsay wanted
nothing but pain and agony. With a huff the dwarf    did as Petyr said while
Sansa took the front passenger seat and they drove away. Rage burned through
Bolton's blood and he was left in the shadows, if Petyr Littlefinger Baelish
thought he could take Ramsay's property from him then Petyr had another thing
coming. The Bolton wouldn't tell Joffrey or Kaegan about this, and from what
he'd heard Duvall Hitachiin was long dead.
 “She belongs to me, Baelish!”
                                        
                               XXXXFLASHBACKXXXX
                                        
Joffrey's place had stank of nothing but beer and marijuana for the last three
hours, fluorescent lights lit the basement that had long been used as a poker
room, the only thing banishing the darkness. Ramsay sat at the table with one
hand holding his cards and the others gripped a half drunk beer can. To his
right sat Kaegan Irelan, his Dublin green t-shirt was pulled tight over his
mocha skin and bulging muscles that were more steroid induced than anything
else, he kept tapping his thumb against the table too which meant that his
cards were junk and he'd fold soon. The other side of him was Duvall Hitachiin
who donned a silver-grey suit with a black shirt and tie, the jacket to which
hung from the back of his chair, ovular emeralds set in gold took the place of
cufflinks. Lastly was Joffrey 'king of everything' Baratheon - but they all
knew in the back of their minds it was really a Lannister - who sat opposite
Bolton with a smile on his face. Duvall was the eldest of the group, almost
eight years older than the others, and the only one with any sophistication,
probably the sanest man in the room as well. He let his hand reach down to pet
his newly acquired wolfdog, Idunn. The young girl with dirty hair thought she
remembered her big brother Jon having a similar animal; Ghost if she remembered
correctly. Hitachiin was more like Petyr in personality; cunning, sneaky and
kind up until the moment he wasn't; not that Pet knew any of that yet. Ramsay
of course was utterly insane while Kaegan was plain dumb but seemed to think he
was the smartest man in the room, didn't realise that brains and brawn were not
the same thing. Joffrey was just over entitled and pathetic.
There was one other person in the room though no one saw or treated her like a
person, she was a pet above anything else; Idunn had a station above the whore.
Pet knelt down on the floor beside her Master just like every poker night the
four of them had, naked and bruised just the way Joffrey liked. Her body was a
mosaic of range and violence. Her worn collar was tight around her neck,
burning with each breath she took, the long chain that was normally attached to
her Master's bed but had been wrapped around the blonde's hand keeping the
traumatized girl close and forcing her to remember her place. She was a pet. A
plaything. A whore. A slave to be used as her Master saw fit.
Pet had no idea that in four short days her Master would be arrested and a
stranger with grey-green eyes would change her life, return her name to her.
Sansa Stark would be reborn. If anyone had said that to her while she was there
on that hardwood floor by her blonde Master she wouldn't have believed it,
nothing good happened to Pet. The bruised girl shook in the cold thanks to her
nakedness and her eyes were clenched shut, something that had become a habit,
she didn't cry though; couldn't remember how. The girl smelt, she knew that,
Joffrey hadn't thrown cold water at her or submerged her face in a good two
weeks and though she was pleased to keep her ability to breath she knew a
beating was coming for the smell of her skin. Her hair was a muddy brown
layered with thick grime that made her head itch and the long locks clump
together, sometimes she'd comb her fingers through it but was always forced to
stop because of large knots and the horrible texture.
Suddenly her mind was pulled back to the world around her when Joffrey placed a
hard but quick kick to her stomach for no reason, he didn't seem to want
anything from her and said nothing. Pet knew everything on her should hurt,
that was what she existed for, she knew that all the kicks, punches and whip
marks should be agony but she was numb. An aged bruise clung to her neck, it
would be gone in a few days and Joffrey would have a new canvas to paint on.
She felt like some kind of zombie, life didn't want her and Death wouldn't take
her, she was stuck hanging between the two; an unmoving pendulum. Pet was both
live and dead, not 'living' though, there was a difference between living and
just breathing through the days. The blue-eyed girl knew she'd never experience
'living', she didn't deserve it. She felt herself jump when Duvall began to
speak, Duvall was the kindest of any man who had touched her and that made him
the most barbaric of them all; he faked niceness just so what Joffrey did after
would not only hurt her body but her heart as well.
“Joffrey, I'm not giving you another loan just so you can lose it to this
sadistic bastard.” Duvall spoke softly clearly referring to Ramsay they all
knew just how dangerous he was.
Pet never knew 'sadistic bastard's' name, her Master had said it once or twice
but every time he did she was on the floor panting for air and in utter agony;
the name never stayed with her; 'something with an R?'
“Yeah. Just have your grandfather increase your allowance.”
Kaegan spoke like it was an easy thing to do. Unfortunately the opposite was
true, Tywin Lannister had capped Joffrey's monthly allowance long ago just to
keep the brat from going too far overboard. The blonde opened his mouth to yell
something back but Ramsay got there first in a smooth tone.
“I want your bitch.” He grinned psychotically.
“You're not good at bargaining, Snow.” Ramsay hated it when Joffrey called him
'Snow' but he'd never give him the satisfaction of showing it. His mother was
some whore and Roose had ignored him until he saw how useful and dangerous
Ramsay really was. “Sure, you can have her for the night if I loose-”
“You will.”
Kaegan stated and laughter erupted around room at Joffrey's expense, but it
soon subsided as they noticed Ramsay's smile darken.
“You're right, I'm no good at bargaining but that's because I don't bargain. I
take what I want. I don't just want her for the night, I 'want' her. It's all
or nothing Joffrey.”
“She's mine!” The blonde sneered, eyes bulging with anger and his fake antlers
wobbling on his head as his body shot forwards in his chair. To Pet, Duvall,
the evil man and Kaegan it looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum. “Has
been since I was ten!”
“Well I think that means she should learn what a real cock is like.” Evil
filled blue orbs looked down to Pet with a harsh grin of nothing but malice.
“You'd like that, no more of his stupid 'Joffrey's friends can't cum in you'
rules just a nice. Hard. Fuck!”
Ramsay giggled to himself and Pet fought of her nausea desperately, even though
she'd not eaten in days she couldn't risk throwing up, last time she had he'd
forced her face into it until she couldn't breath and then thrown a bucket at
her and a cloth; she'd smelt fowl for days after that and had actually been
thankful for his drowning session just to get rid of the stench.
“You know what? Fuck it. I have you beat anyway.”
“Doubt that.” Duvall mumbled from behind a beer bottle. “Kaegan here is a
better poker player than you and he's a fucking twat.”
“I'll kill you one day. You know that?” The mocha skinned man seethed, if only
Duvall only knew how true that statement was. “Your dog too.”
The world would never know it but Petyr Baelish and Duvall Hitachiin would have
made an excellent team, both were: intelligent, cunning, smug, fans of classic
literature and both even had scars down their chests but for very different
reasons. However, there was one huge difference between Baelish and Hitachiin;
Petyr cared deeply for Sansa while Duvall wouldn't have missed a wink of sleep
has she died.
Pet felt herself tremble again when her Master threw down his cards with an
over-confident grin.
“Ha! King-high. Fuck you!”
Indeed, looking down to Baratheon's cards revealed a good hand, probably the
best Joffrey had played all month but the smile soon fell from his lips.
“Nah, I'll fuck her.” With that Ramsay set his own cards down on the table,
Duvall grinned wickedly along with Kaegan. “Aces.”
Joffrey's eyes grew angry as he looked at the small cards, his blood boiled and
from his silence Pet knew he'd lost, she'd just been betted away. She'd have a
new Master, a man cruel and more sadistic than her current one. Duvall standing
was what finally broke the silent tension, he slipped on his suit jacket calmly
and picked up Idunn the puppy.
“And on that bombshell, goodnight and fuck you all.”
With that Hitachiin was gone, the only sign he'd ever been there being an empty
seat and beer bottle. Duvall was smart enough to know when to leave, and the
suit clad man knew that one day it would get him a bullet in the back of the
head.
Ramsay paid no attention to Duvall as he left, he was focused on Pet. Joffrey's
eyes still hadn't left the cards and Pet could hardly breath.
“You're my whore now.” He stated with aplomb. His head tilted up to face the
blonde. “Joffrey have her cleaned up, I don't want her smelling of your cum.
Shame about all those bruises, damaged goods and all that, I like to do the
damaging myself.” Ramsay stood. “I'll come back for her at the end of the week,
I need to make arrangements for her. Maybe I'll pick her up after we're done at
The Bear. Kaegan, it's still early, do you want to come to the dog fights with
me?”
“Fuck yeah! Later Joffrey, enjoy the bitch while you 'ave her.”
Everything fell silent for the longest time, one of those quietude that was
almost deafening. Joffrey didn't move, didn't speak and for a few moments Pet
wasn't sure he was breathing. Then everything exploded like an atom bomb had
gone off, the blonde yanked the chain bringing Pet forwards with nothing but
scrapped palms to break her fall. A booted foot slammed down on her fragile
back sending her pale face into the cold wood flooring, pain surged through her
body before her face turned numb like everything else on her.
“You stupid bitch!” He screamed.
The chain was pulled taut shutting off her oxygen for what could have been
ever, her eyes watered with agony and her blood raced around her body with
panic and need. She could feel blood drops leak from a re-opened wound along
her neck and wondered if Death had finally come for her.
“If you weren't there offering it like a whore to every cock you saw, I
wouldn't have this fucking problem!”
He pulled on the chain once more bringing Pet to her knees and slapped her as
hard as he could, she whimpered. Just as quickly as his anger had emerged it
was gone, almost as though it had never been there to begin with. Joffrey fell
into his chair again and looked off into nothingness, hand white from the grip
he had on her chain.
“Don't worry, he'll be at The Bear in a couple of days, said it himself. I'll
just kill him and pay Jorah Mormont to look the other way. You're staying with
me whore. I own you.”
                                        
                                     XXXX
 
 The next morning Petyr found himself down at the sea-shore behind his house,
there was a gargantuan staircase that led down to the rich blue ocean and Sansa
had been all but begging him to teach her to swim;   please Master teach me to
swim, I can't swim show me how, please   it had been a been a week of non-stop
asking and he'd finally given in. He wasn't a beach person but he had no doubt
that Sansa would look beautiful in the sun and seafoam, beaches were too much
family vacation  for his liking. However, there he was in a pair of black
trunks soaking wet teaching the redhead how to swim,  the things I do for this
girl   his mind muttered as Sansa kicked out against the water. Despite his
major dislike for the beach it had given him the excuse to see her in a bikini
which he certainly wasn't going to complain about.   De ep dark purple  suited
her and he liked her in his colors,  the top half  of the bikini  tied around
her neck and back while the bottom half had little bows at either hip; it was
good for her to get some sun and tan over those dark scars   it built her
confidence as well rather than her covering herself up   . Her body was ever so
smooth to the touch and Petyr wasted no time enjoying his excuse to caress her,
Baelish supported her body with strong arms letting her get used to the water
and its current while showering her with helpful tips and telling her she could
do it.    Lady bounced around in the water loving every second before running
up onto the sand and covering herself then charging back into the ocean; that
dog was going to need one hell of a bath.
 It took a while but eventually she was moving about without too much of an
issue leaving Petyr's arms as more of a safety net than something she needed to
stay afloat. Waves crashed softly against   chalk colored  rocks, the noise
echoing around the mini private beach,  it  could hardly be considered a beach
really. To their left stood the stone steps carved from the cliff face that led
up to his house while the right housed the dock where his yacht –  named  Chaos
-  was   moored, Sansa seemed happy and he hadn't noticed the spot  ' s natural
beauty until he saw her floating happily in  shallow  blue waters  with Lady
paddling  around her,  no that wasn't quite right.  What was  beautiful wasn't
the world  around him  , but the way in which    Sansa's   eyes s aw  it.
 “You're doing really well, Sweetling.” He praised while climbing out of the
sea and pulling on his shades as defence from the harsh sun.
“Thank you.” She called back with a grin continuing to float along in the sea.
 Sitting down on a large blue tartan towel Petyr found himself just watching
the redhead as he did so very often, if Tyrion could see them    Baelish would
forever have the piss taken out of him. Hands quickly rubbed at his salt and
pepper hair knocking loose as much sea water as possible, birds sang in the far
off distance and it seemed Sansa   preferred   to float along rather than
actually swim. He was proud of the confidence and braver  y  she had locked
away inside herself, she  had started   climbing the ladder beside him and it
made Petyr smile.    Eyes the color of grass after a storm flashed down to his
tattooed arm taking in each design slowly and one by one, the Stargazer lily
for his mother, the To Kill A Mockingbird quote, the loose feathers made to
look like they were falling down his arm   snared in purple smoke   and then to
the blank space on the inside of his forearm. It was a reminder that there was
always something else, more power, to acquire but eventually something would
have to fill it, the space couldn't remain blank forever; Petyr never left
anything unfinished.
 All thoughts left him when Sansa suddenly tried to turn over and sank, it was
only the shallows so   it was  easy for her to stand up  and...  Gods what a
view . Her red hair that h ad  been tied back in a braid  had turned   dark and
wet, hanging over one shoulder while small pearls of ocean tumbled down her
porcelain skin and Petyr raked in the sight before him. His girl was gorgeous
in every way, he didn't even notice the mass of scars along her body and he was
starting to realise that nor did she, Sansa felt little to no shame left in
showing them to him.   Master didn't judge her he taught her.
 “I think that's enough for one day, Sweetling.” He told her with a smile
watching Lady clamber out of the water and shake herself violently; they'd been
there for hours.
“No! Please Master, just a little longer?” Sansa walked up out of the
glistening blue water and sat beside him on the tartan towel. “Please?”
“Oh alright.” He relented sliding a tattooed arm around her shoulders and
pulling her to his chest. “A little longer.” There was no harm in indulging
her. “All the beaches in King's Landing are a lot nicer than The Fingers.” He
mused aloud.
 “The Fingers?” Azure orbs sparked with curiosity but she didn't look up. Sansa
enjoyed the warmth coming from her Master's body.
“It's where I grew up until your Grandfather took me in.” He said simply.
“They're a group of narrow peninsulas that stretch into the narrow sea and look
like fingers, hence the name.”
“Is it nice there?” She asked.
“ The Fingers are a lovely place, if you happen to be a stone.” Sansa giggled a
little at that, the sound vibrating through her body and into his chest. “That
place is a windy shithole. It's treeless, always raining and everything is
stony. There's nothing there, trust me you're not missing much.”
Sansa couldn't help but wonder if that was why he liked the rain, why he found
it comforting, deep down did it remind him of home? There was no use asking
because her Master would never admit to being in any way sentimental; though
the lily on his elbow suggested otherwise.
“I don't remember much about Winterfell.” Sansa told him softly. “Cold, I
think.”
“It most certainly is.” Petyr always helped to bring back long forgotten
memories. “It's just south of the mountains and Long Lake. Up there in the
winter the police would ware these thick standard issue grey jackets trimmed
with fur, made them look like wolves, that's why everyone referred to your
Father as a wolf and his family became the pack. It's probably why you latched
onto Copper so quickly.”
The two sat in silence for a time, Petyr thinking about how far his baby girl
had come while Sansa's mind was busy trying to remember her father's face and
thick winter coat. To the older man grey coats and a cop nickname was probably
unimportant and not worth much but to the redhead it was the world, her
father's face was so close and yet so far, pain swelled in her chest when she
realised it wouldn't come to her; Petyr sensed that pulling her closer.
“Let's go back to the house and I'll make us dinner.”
She was a rather hungry and that was the only reason she didn't ask for more
time down at the little hideaway again. Sansa helped Petyr gather up their
things and folded the blanket while he slipped on his white shirt without
bothering to button it up and grabbed their water bottles; though she had a
great suspicion it wasn't water in his. The dark-haired man let Sansa hold his
hand as they walked back up the sandy stone steps towards his,  their,  home
with Lady following behind still shaking sand and sea water from her grey coat.
“Thank you for that, Master. It was fun.”
She meant it but felt Petyr deflate a little, he kept walking though. There was
silence for a moment and Sansa thought maybe she'd done something to upset him,
finally he spoke.
“Why do you still call me that?” He asked with genuine confusion and without
looking up at her. “You don't have to and I thought it would die off after a
while. You can be your own master.” He smiled to himself. “Though I do like
hearing it.”
“I like that you're my master.” She answered as though it were simple.
There was something in the way she spoke the word that was different to what
he'd expected... and then it all clicked; Petyr stopped in his tracks with a
little smirk on his face.
“You changed the meaning.”
It wasn't a question or a statement, more of a realisation. The word remained
the same but the definition had long since been adjusted. Sansa stood there for
a second with a puzzled expression on her smooth features before nodding to
herself; he was right.
“With him,” The both knew he meant Joffrey. “You used that word because he
owned you, because you belonged to him like an animal. With me though, you
changed what that word meant; it's not a title now. You don't mean  Master I
belong to you, not anymore.”
 They started to walk again and she couldn't tell if Petyr proud of her or
annoyed at himself for not seeing it sooner, knowing the older man it was a
combination of the two.
“It makes me feel safe.” Sansa admitted holding his hand a little tighter. “And
you call me Sweetling.”
 Baelish laughed, a genuine laugh that even reached his eyes, not that Sansa
looked anywhere near his stormy orbs.
“You've pet named me.”
 It was no longer a title but a symbol of adoration, not a word she was forced
to say but one Sansa wanted to use. The redhead finally got a choice about who
was her Master and she'd chosen him. She'd taken the word and twisted it into
something new that Joffrey nor anyone else could ever take away from her, she'd
beaten them at their own game. It may have seemed strange or not made sense to
those on the outside and maybe it wasn't meant to; Master and Sweetling was
them not anyone else.
“I suppose it's only fair, and it's better than darlingor bae,Gods I hate
that.”
“You remember that you said you belonged to me as much as I belonged to you?”
Petyr nodded as they continued to walk, the house coming into view. “You treat
me as an equal and you keep me safe.”
Petyr smiled and pulled her close to him.
“You're not that scared little girl I found anymore, are you?” He seemed proud
of that. “I knew you were strong, Sweetling, but you've surpassed what even I
thought you capable of.”
“Thank you Master.” She smiled, water still dripping in tiny drops from her
hair.
 Sansa Stark was not a pet and Petyr Baelish was not her owner,   they were
just two people with questionable terms of endearment thrust together by the
evil acts of Lannsiters.
Chapter End Notes
     'The Fingers are a lovely place, if you happen to be a stone' is a
     quote by Baelish to Sansa in chapter 68 of A Storm Of Swords
***** Men Had Died For Less *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Night dominated the land but Petyr didn't notice as he worked on in his home
office typing away and preparing things for Tyrion and some woman he'd been
told about Dany something, he'd not listened to her first name  Targaryen  had
been all Baelish needed to hear. The Baratheons had all but destroyed their
multi-million dollar empire but it seemed this little blonde would rebuild with
Tyrion at her side. Since the merger a decade ago the Lannister had moved on to
bigger and better things, they wouldn't be in direct competition with the
Targaryen for a while and Petyr already had a plan for when they got to that
point. Tyrion had spent long enough in Dorne and once he was done with his
father he'd be off over the narrow sea to join the girl.
 Meanwhile Sansa sat on the patio steps as she often did, her hair held loosely
in a ponytail and her art pad resting on her lap as she drew. It was almost
full but Master said they'd get her a new one the next day as well as anything
else that took her fancy; Baelish really did spoil her.
“What are you drawing?”
 The question was soft but Sansa still jumped, it had been so quiet that the
words sounded like yelling. Her whole body spun round to see Tyrion Lannister
looking down at her with a wine glass in one hand, he never seemed to stop
drinking, Sansa averted her gaze and her body tensed. Cautiously she responded
as Lady shuffled beside her.
“Master... likes it when Sansa draws for him.” If she'd used Sansainstead of
Iout of fear or habit she didn't know. “It's the piano in Master's library,
Sir.”
 The pale girl held out her sketch pad so as the dwarf could see her work,
surprisingly he smile, a smile that actually reached his eyes; not that Sansa
made eye contact.
 “It's very good.” Tyrion took a seat beside her and Sansa was proud of herself
when she didn't shuffle away. “All I could ever draw was stick men.” There was
a silence as if he'd paused so as she could speak but the redhead had no idea
what she was meant to say and he seemed to realise that. The blonde didn't seem
angered by it, he just carried on with the purpose of his visit. “Sansa I know
you're afraid of me, but I won't hurt you. I promise that. I doubt Baelish
would have even let me into the house let alone help me if not for you... And
the one good thing about my family is a Lannister always pays his debt, so I
owe you.” Tyrion breathed out a laugh suddenly and Sansa felt confused. “And
look at me, I'm a dwarf. What am I going to do? Gnaw at your ankles?” Sansa
laughed, she actually laughed. “See, now we're laughing. Laughter is good it
feeds the soul.” He turned to face her but never tried to meet her eyes. “So if
I'm not going to chew your legs there's no reason to be scared of me. We could
be friends if you like?”
 Deep down Sansa knew Tyrion was no threat to her, if he was her Master
wouldn't have let him in just like the blonde had said, and it would be nice to
have a friend that didn't bark.
“Okay, Sir. San-I would like that.”
 “Friends call me Tyrion not sir.” His words were kind and came out smelling of
wine.
“Tyrion.”
 “Good.” The blonde made to stand up but was obviously too loud because Lady
who had been happy not five seconds ago was growling at him. “Hey Sansa, now
that we're friends do you think you could have her stop growling and
threatening to eat me? It's a little disconcerting.”
She wasn't quite sure what disconcerting meant but from Tyrion's tone she
assumed it meant worried or troubled, something like that.
“Lady, be nice to Master's-ourfriend.”
 The animal quieted instantly and settled back down as though some kind of
magic spell had been cast, Sansa petted Lady's fur gently as she reached for
Copper with her other hand.
“Thank you.”
 “Master helped me to train her to protect me.” Sansa offered a little more
conversationally than either of them had expected. “She learned quickly.”
 “He got her for you?” He asked absent-mindedly. Sansa nodded.
“Copper too.” She held the handmade wolf up so as the blonde could see.
 It was childish, a girl her age to take a toy wolf everywhere she went but
Tyrion understood why, Sansa had never gotten the chance to be a child and that
toy had become her childhood. Copper was important to her and over time he was
sure that she'd stop taking it when she left the house and then one day it
would never leave her bedroom, she'd always love it but Copper wouldn't have to
be held in her arms every moment of every day. She'd grow up. Tyrion did a
quick bit of maths and worked out that Sansa would be eighteen now growing
closer to nineteen and started to wonder if Baelish favoured the childlike side
to the redhead or the beautiful woman he saw everyday.
 “Sansa.” He began slowly. “Since we're friends now, would you answer something
for me?” The redhead nodded as she started to shade her drawing in. “Good. Has
Baelish had sex with you?”
 There was no way of asking that any more blatantly but he didn't want to tip-
toe through the tulips with her. There was silence for a short time and Tyrion
started to wonder if he'd somehow upset her, it almost scared him when she did
speak.
“Yes.” Her tone was caution as she uttered that one word, one little word that
was so powerful.
“And did you like it?”
 Tyrion didn't ask out of fear Petyr had hurt her, he knew the other man wasn't
like that, in fact Tyrion wasn't certain why he'd asked, curiosity seemed to be
the only explanation. Sansa bit her lip and her cheeks grew red with a blush,
her hands stilled over her drawing.
“Yes.” This time her words were but a whisper.
 Tyrion just grinned.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
 The next day came and Sansa was excited to go and get a new art book, a simple
thing but it excited Sansa nevertheless, she'd never been to get her own and
Petyr wanted her to pay for it herself; to be brave. Tyrion was still passed
out in his room and Lady had been left with him, Petyr could just imagine the
look on the little lions face when he woke to find Lady not three feet from his
sleeping face. Priceless. The sun was shining and a cool breeze drifted through
the air so Petyr's DB5 had the windows rolled all the way down and Sansa
revelled in the sound of birds and waves, as they got closer to the city those
sounds faded into new ones of hustle and bustle of workers. Petyr held a
cigarette between two fingers on the hand leaned comfortably on the window
frame while the other gripped the steering wheel. Music drifted out the car as
they drove to which Petyr drummed his fingers along with the beat, Sansa had
long since discovered that her Master did this unconsciously and somewhat
unknowingly.
                                        
                     I wanna be a white trash millionaire
                        Ain't got much and I don't care
                        Count your cash and kiss my ass
                 This whole damn world gonna know I been here
                  I got two zig-zags and you know I’ll share
                           I’m everyone from nowhere
                                  White trash
                                  White trash
                            White trash millionaire

                      Some got a castle, a Mercedes Benz
                             Big time appointments
                          And all their fake friends
                     So tell me is that as good as it gets
                       On the couch, on the front porch
                   We’re all smoking left-handed cigarettes
 
 Though he wore his usual suit, today's was Gucci in rich navy and a matching
waistcoat with a tie of the same color and crisp white shirt, Petyr didn't
usually ware a tie but damn did he know how to ware a suit. Sansa had
accidentally dressed to match him in color, her knee length dress was almost
the same shade of blue and had lace three-quarter sleeves that both showed off
her arms while hiding her scars. Her hair hung in a loose red braid that draped
over her shoulder and Petyr had spent the better part of the morning trying not
to pin her to his bed. Gods he wanted to hold her down.
 The day was peaceful until the moment his cellphone started to ring and
vibrate in his pocket, with a sigh Petyr threw his cigarette butt out the open
window and pulled the car over and tugged his phone out, pressing it to his
ear. Sansa remained quiet and attempted to avoid listening to his conversation,
that of course didn't work since they were right beside them.
 “Yes, Gwendolyn?” He'd given the blonde a day off which meant that Tywin
Lannister's assistant had called her.
“I'm so sorry to bother you sir but Mister Lannister has insisted upon a
meeting this morning.”She told him through the phone line. “It's in an half an
hour.”
“Alright, I'll be there in twenty minutes.”
 He hung up after that quickly and pulled the car over, Sansa knew what was
coming.
 “I'm sorry, Sweetling.” He looked at her porcelain face, it still annoyed him
that he could never look into those beautiful blue eyes of hers. “I have to go
in for a meeting, there's a company I've been keeping track of. As CFO I deal
with the money. We'll get your things afterwards, okay?”
“Yes, Master.”
Sansa was a little disappointed but she knew  what her Master said was a
promise, and the redhead trusted him whole heartedly. It was then that Petyr
remembered the brown wig Ros had given them, on the drive  home he'd chucked it
in the glove box where it had been forgotten until that very moment. There on
the side of the road Petyr took the wig out and handed it to his girl, Sansa
wasted no time placing it on her head and neatly hiding away the small red baby
hairs.
“Keep this on darling, I doubt that anyone would recognise you with this on but
we can never be too careful. And I haven't got time to take you home.”
 Sansa was filled with trepidation and butterfly's scurried around her stomach
as her Master drove into the financial district of King's Landing, the
buildings grew taller like silver giants looming over her with frowns on their
faces; she didn't belong there. It was as though she were entering some sort of
medieval castle and it caused her breath to hitch. There was a parking
structure under one of the evil looking buildings that she soon discovered
belonged to Lion and Stag Enterprises. Sansa did everything in her power to
calm her breathing. The car came to a halt and the engine silenced before Petyr
slipped out and rounded his beloved Aston to open the door for his girl, she
watched as he pulled something from his breast pocket. Glancing around quickly
Sansa saw the space had been reserved for him with a large black plaque with
gold lettering that read;
                                 Petyr Baelish
                            Chief Financial Officer
“Here.” Suddenly it became clear that he held his sunglasses. He slipped them
over her ears and rested them on her nose. “They actually suit you.”
 Petyr pressed a kiss to her supple lips, gentle and chased before taking her
hand in his and leading her towards the elevator.
“Don't worry, no one will recognise you as Sansa.” He gave her hand a squeeze
of encouragement that she greatly appreciated and needed. The elevator climbed
quickly. “Only respond to the name  Alyane  alright? If anyone asks who you are
that's what you tell them, you are Alayne Stone my niece.”
“Yes Master.” She could do this, she could go into the lions den and be brave.
“Or would you like me to call you Uncleagain?”
 The silver doors slid open revealing the fifty-first floor that was littered
with people going this way and that, Petyr dropped her hand letting it fall to
her side.
 “Uncle. Come on, the last one of these I was sprung with didn't last long. You
can do this, Sweetling.” Petyr knew Sansa needed the encouragement. “You're
brave.”
The redhead followed closely behind her Uncleas he twisted and turned around
the floor until a large black door came into view and Sansa knew it was his
office, just outside lay a desk of the same color as the door behind which sat
a blonde, plain but not unattractively so. She wore a grey business dress made
of a thick fabric with a pleated skirt; this must be the Gwendolyn he spoke of.
 “Hello Mister Baelish.” She greeted with a smile upon looking up from her
documents. Petyr only nodded a greeting in return. “Whose your friend?”
 Sansa was surprised to find she felt no fear around the blonde woman, she was
at ease.
 “This is Alayne my niece, she'll be staying with me for a while.”
 “Oh! Well hello Alayne. It's nice to meet you.” Gwendolyn actually seemed to
be truly friendly and Sansa found it refreshing.
 “Hello.” The redhead managed - not that anyone could see her red hair under
the wig - her responce was quiet but thankfully not forced.
 Not a moment later Gwendolyn was talking again but this time it was all
directed at her Master. Sansa remained quietly as Petyr listened and tapped
away on his cellphone.
“Sir, Mister Pycelle would like to speak to you before the meeting but the CEO
has moved the meeting up... it's now in five minutes.” She said the last bit
with a I'm sorrytone.
 Petyr sighed, it was going to be one of those days.
 “Fine.” He put his phone back into his pocket. “Pycelle can go and die in a
ditch, I don't care what he wants to complain about and to be honest I don't
have the time. Oh, and Alyane will wait in my office while I'm with Tywin.”
 “Yes, Mister Baelish. Of course.”
 Petyr turned to his girl with a soft smile that was only for her and pushed
open his office door.
 “I'll be back as soon as I can, Sweetling.”
After a kiss to her forehead Petyr was gone leaving Sansa alone in his office.
He'd hidden her away and kept her safe.  His office was nothing like the one in
his home office or The Mockingbird, this one was more modern and minimalistic.
On the slate blue wall that held the office door hung two white frames either
side of it but they didn't hold paintings or photographs, no, instead Sansa
found quotes. This first read;  People generally see what they look for and
hear what they listen for. It was an extract from To Kill A Mockingbird by
Harper Lee and Sansa thought truer words had never been spoken. Petyr wasn't
one of those  general people he saw and heard everything else. The second frame
on the left of the door was a Shakespeare quote; If you prick us do we not
bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if
you wrong us shall we not revenge? Both the framed quotes screamed Petyr
Baelish.
 The two walls opposite her and to her right were floor to ceiling windows,
seemed he had the corner office, from which the whole financial district of
King's Landing could be seen in the far off distance she found the ocean and
Sansa smiled a little. There was a back leather couch pressed up against the
window that faced a wall mounted television and Sansa wondered if he preferred
the view to the channels. This office was larger than his others but didn't
seem lived in like the ones at home and at The Mockingbird.
 To the left of the door with its back to the slate blue wall coated a few
glass shelves topped with books, and a dark wooden box like curio that she
tried not to be curious about, stood a large black desk. The desk had been made
of a sleek black that had the appearance of marble with a high-backed leather
chair as its partner, the chair looked comfortable and so Sansa took a seat
rather than going over to the couch.
 Sansa tried to breathe, her Master had faith in her and that was all she
needed. Sansa was safe, in the lion's den, but safe. Petyr wouldn't let
anything happen to his girl. The redhead suddenly wished that Lady was there.
“Alayne, would you like something to drink?” Sansa nearly screamed when she
noticed Gwendolyn had popped her head into Baelish's office. “Tea? Coffee?
Water?”
Her eyes grew wide and locked down on the dark wood desk while her hands
trembled, from somewhere she found her voice.
“... No, thank you.” That seemed to satisfy Gwendolyn who left shutting the
door behind her.
Sansa's eyes clamped shut as she tried in desperation to calm herself, when
they opened again and she took in deep breaths the redhead noticed another
frame, this time a blue one, in pride of place on his desk. It was the drawing
she'd given him what felt like an eternity ago, she'd assumed he'd thrown it
away or left it in a draw but there it was, framed and beautiful on his desk.
All that fear that had just surged threw her body drained away to be replaced
by a smile and strength; her Master cared. Petyr had said he would keep it and
he had. Life with her Master had routine and happiness to it but life without
him was unbearable.
 The redhead found herself thinking about her Master, the kindness and devotion
he showed her and then she thought about herself and the feeling she felt for
him that couldn't be described. It squeezed her heart and made her smile every
time she saw him, it made her brave and reminded her that she was Sansa Stark.
It caused her to feel so much and yet she didn't know what the word for it was.
Sansa lost track of time alternating between looking out to the beautiful view
and grinning at the framed drawing, maybe time didn't matter. I'll be back as
soon as I can, Sweetling.That was what he'd said and he'd come back for her,
Sansa trusted that. It didn't mean that the redhead didn't eventually grow
bored, when that happened she picked up his gold pen and legal pad from the
clean desk and started to write; there was a time when she wouldn't have dared
do that but she'd learnt that her Master wouldn't mind. Her handwriting had
greatly improved, she'd had trouble with C and K often putting the wrong one
into a word and for about two months cathad been spelt kat,that all seemed to
be fading away though, silent letters proved a problem but for someone who
hadn't been able to read or write their own name less than a year ago she was
doing very well, remarkably well. Eventually that bored her as well and she
flipped to a clean page to draw; that never bored her. The pen danced over the
page softly at first making smooth simple lines that built up over time and
grew darker with shading, it was her Master she drew, hair in perfect place and
moustache neat with his trademark smug smile on his face.
 Petyr had said the last meeting Tywin called hadn't lasted long but this one
seemed to go one forever, she'd been in his office a good hour and longed for
him back but she would remain patient. The drawing was almost finished, just a
little more shading needed around his shoulders and neck was all it needed when
the door burst open. Sansa beamed, the meeting was over and her Master was
back. There was just one problem, that wasn't her Master.
 “Baelish, your assistant had fucked off somewhere and I want you to-” Joffrey
cut himself off upon looking up from his phone to see the sunglasses wearing
brunette in Baelish's place. “Who are you?”
 Sansa couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't.... just
couldn't. Her lungs pulled in desperate gulps of air and her eyes clenched shut
behind the sunglasses, hands trembled to the point of dropping the gold pen and
her whole body grew tense as tears built in her eyes. Her whole body was frozen
with fear except for the bits that shook. Her heart felt like it was going to
explode in her chest. Sansa's old Master stood not four feet away at the door
with an expectant look on his face, she was trapped. He'd figure her out! He'd
take her back! He'd hurt her! Make her suffer and she'd never see her Master
again, Sansa would never figure out what that feeling she had for him was.
 “Are you going to answer me?” The blonde asked demandingly taking a step
forwards and Sansa nearly threw up.
 “This is Alayne Stone.” That was Petry, that was her Master! He was there and
she was safe. Sansa's head shot up to make sure he was real. “Alayne is my
niece.”
 Petyr entered the room and positioned himself between his baby girl and the
blonde bastard acting as a shield for her. Just having him out of direct sight
brought her comfort and aided in calming her. Petyr was the only thing that
made her feel safe and Lady wasn't there to protect her.
“What do you want, Joffrey?”
 “My Grandfather wants me to do a video call with my Uncle Jaime in Dorne this
evening. I don't want to so you're going to do it for me.”
 “If Tywin asked you to do it then there is a reason for that.” Petyr told the
moron of a boy.
“Yes, he thinks I'm stupid enough to just drop everything and do as he tells
me.”
No you're pretty damn stupid, said Petyr's mind smugly and he had to fight not
to burst out laughing. He couldn't be bothered to fight with Joffrey over a
video call to Ja im e Lannister and just wanted the blonde away from his gir,
and anyway if Joffrey did do it then he'd only fuck the call up and Petyr would
be forced to do it anyway. 
 “Fine, I'll deal with Jaime but you can answer to Tywin. Now get out of my
office.”
 “Stop acting like you own the place, Baelish. Bye Alayne.”
With the slamming of the office door Joffrey was gone and Sansa remembered how
to breathe.  Just wait you little brat, I'll own the place soon enough. Petyr
attention snapped back from his multi-phased plot to his darling girl who was
almost in tears.
“Sansa it's okay, you're safe. I'm here, he's gone.”
 Petyr pulled her into his arms so he could sit in his chair and hold her in
his lap. He gripped her tight as she clung to him for dear life, the sunglasses
came off and he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. Her whole body vibrated
with fear as she fisted his shirt in her little hands.
 “You're so brave, Little One. So brave. I'm proud of you, Sweetling.”
“Can... can Master... take Sansa home?”
He hated that she referred to herself as Sansaagain, it was as though all those
months of work had never happened. He didn't correct her though, knew it would
do no good.
 “Of course, Sweetling. Do you still want to go and get your art things?”
“No, Master.”
He knew that would be her answer but had asked anyway. Petyr pressed a kiss to
her temple before responding.
“Okay, let's go home.”
The drive was eerily silent, not even his usual music filled the car and Petyr
found his hand reaching out to comfort her every few minutes, Sansa seemed
grateful for that though she didn't speak. The wig was off leaving her
beautiful red hair flowing down in a braid that he longed to touch, it would do
no good though. It was a symbol of her strength that she calmed her breaths and
banished her tears as quickly as she did. His sweet girl had been through so
much  and just when she was beginning to truly move on it all came crashing
back down. Thoughts raced through Petyr's mind as he drove to the point that he
couldn't tell what most of them were, all that he knew was that Joffrey
Baratheon's death had just moved up in his schedule. No one made his girl cry!
 When they arrived home Sansa went in first leaving Petyr to close the door
behind them, he found Tyrion stood in the living room with a cup of coffee
watching Sansa drop to her knees and hug Lady.
“Where the fuck have you two been?”
“Not now, Tyrion.” Petyr growled, normally he could hide his emotions but anger
raged through his blood.
 “Okay.” Tyrion dragged the word out and raised his hands in surrender. “Let's
not all attack the little guy.” He took another look at the young redhead
before looking back at Petyr. “What happened?”
 Baelish sighed.
“Tywin called a meeting and I didn't have time to bring her home. You're
annoying little nephew walked in just before I came back.”
 “Did he recognise her?” Tyrion sounded just as concerned as Petyr himself.
“Beacuse if he does and Joffrey tells Cersei-” Petyr cut him off.
“No, he didn't recognise her. But I've had enough of her living in fear of him
somehow getting her back.”
“Well what are you going to do then?”
“Kill him.” Petyr responded calmly, eyes never leaving his baby girl. “I've
been patient enough, waiting for the right moment when there couldn't possible
be any suspicion placed on me, I think that time has come.” Baelish's stormy
eyes looked down at Tyrion. “And fuck it, even if they do suspect me they'll
never be able to prove it. He made Sansa cry.”  Men had died for less.
“You really care about her don't you.” It wasn't a question.
“She's mine!”
Tyrion knew those words weren't what he meant, his anger cause Petyr to lay
claim to Sansa but Tyrion knew what the real response was...
 
Chapter End Notes
     Lyrics are White Trash Millionaire by Black Stone Cherry
***** The Flicker Of Peace Before Death *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNING: mentions of torture, rape and suicide
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 Hours had passed by since the incident in Petyr's slate blue office but it
took all of five minutes for him to break into Kaegan Irelan's house,
headphones filling his ears with much needed music, he worked better when he
could just shut out the world around him for a few moments.
                                        
                         Hello darkness, my old friend
                       I've come to talk with you again
                       Because a vision softly creeping
                      Left its seeds while I was sleeping
                  And the vision that was planted in my brain
                   Still remains within the sound of silence
 
 Petyr   send a text from   Kaegan's hideous neon green cased    phone to
Joffrey's while Kaegan was in the shower.   Such terrible locks anyone could
just stroll right in.   He deleted the whole conversation once he was done
knowing that Kaegan wouldn't be able to prove he hadn't sent it; not only had
it come from his phone but at his home and while he was there as well. He
already knew the security cameras were down at Joffrey's place, had been for
about a week; the idiot had overloaded the circuit breaker. 
 
                       In restless dreams I walked alone
                         Narrow streets of cobblestone
                       'Neath the halo of a street lamp
                    I turned my collar to the cold and damp

                           When my eyes were stabbed
                         By the flash of a neon light
                             That split the night
                       And touched the sound of silence
                                        
The Cleaner couldn't help but look around, and instantly wanted to set the
place ablaze, the Irelan family was a valued and powerful family of lawyers
with their own company in Braavos. Kaegan's father was the current head of the
family and could get just about anyone off for murder. Dittmann Irelan was his
name, a dangerous man who spoke softly and stood tall, everyone knew the threat
he posed when angered but Baelish knew he could be easily navigated despite
being the top lawyer in pretty much all of Westeros. Dittmann had four sons;
Reyek the eldest and most competent in Petyr's opinion, Matrim who did
everything he could to please his father and Pellin who had just married,
Kaegan was the youngest and the rebel son. Dittman also had a daughter named
Pomeline who he knew very little about and that not only went for Baelish but
her father too. The wife was Odette Irelan, née Corrigan, who came from one of
the most powerful journalism families to have ever lived. All of this seemed to
prove too stressful as well as boring to young Kaegan who'd been cut off almost
a year ago. Seemed things had gone down hill for young Kaegan ever since then,
if not for his skill at poker Petyr suspected the mocha skinned man would have
found himself in a ditch long ago.
 Petyr had been set in motion after that text was sent, the pieces falling into
place to complete the jigsaw, he called his body double. Teiichi had been
instructed to meet him at the club and with that everything was prepared except
for one thing, Sansa.
 “Please, Sweetling. I know you don't want to leave the house right now but we
have something we need to do.” He all but pleaded with his girl who hid under
her bed with Copper and Lady. “I thought we'd stopped hiding under the bed.”
He sighed and held his hand out for her to take. “Come on, Sansa.”
 Reluctantly she obeyed and Petyr couldn't help but think of that first night
and how he'd coaxed her out then. He held his girl in his arms for a short
while, stroking her soft fire-red hair and occasionally kissing her temple.
Sansa knew she was safe there with him, with her Master.    However, seeing
Joffrey, hearing his black-hearted and fiendish voice had brought back all the
horrific and traumatising memories she'd worked so hard to lock away.
“  Sweetling.” He broached slowly so as not to upset her more. “When I asked
you if you wanted Joffrey to hurt, if you wanted Cersei to know the pain your
mother felt, you said yes. Do you still want that?”
 Silence, utter and complete silence. Sound of any kind ceased to exist as the
two of them were thrust into a vacuum where only they existed. He could feel
her heart beating in her chest softly as he watched his baby girl's blue eyes
look about the floor as though she would find the answer carved into the wood.
Petyr didn't ask again, didn't push for an answer, she'd give one when she was
ready. Lady suddenly sat up and scratched behind her ear which seemed to snap
Sansa back to the world around her, quiet as a mouse she finally answered him.
 “Yes.” It was so faint that Baelish had to strain to hear it.
S  he did, Sansa wanted them to suffer as she had, to be punished. Petyr knew
she felt conflicted    over that question, Sansa was a good person with a soft
nature but there was also a powerful violence to her; he pressed a kiss to her
temple gently. He, however, was devoid of any moral compass.
“Then let's kill him.”
“Okay, Master.” 
There was a danger in her voice that Littlefinger had never heard before and he
had to force his interest not to grow.
 “That's my girl.” He kissed her again, this time on the lips, and picked her
up bridal style only to set her down on the soft yellow bedsheets. “I'm going
to need you to ware a certain outfit, Sweetling. I want to prove a point.”
 Twenty minutes later Sansa found herself dressed in an outfit she didn't know
she had, apparently he   picked it up on the way home   and Sansa tried not to
question that too much. It consisted of a black pair of black sailor shorts
over fishnet tights and a white shirt that buttoned up just enough to show off
her cleavage and coal bra. Heeled military boots found themselves laced onto
her feet while her brown wig hung in delicate loose curls around her face. It
was safe to say that Sansa didn't feel too comfortable, Master was taking her
to see the boy who tortured her for ten years and there she was dressed up
seductively for the eyes of said man. Her Master said he wanted to prove a
point though so she wouldn't complain; from the way her Master grinned Sansa
knew she looked good.
“Oh baby girl, you're stunning.”
 Throughout the whole drive Sansa didn't say a word, not one, she was far to
busy keeping herself calm and trying to convince herself that she was Sansa
Stark and not Pet. Petyr Baelish was her Master and that was the way it would
stay. Her hand reached into the back seat of Petyr's Aston Martin DBS every now
and again to pet Lady's head in search of comfort and Petyr himself spent most
of the drive with a hand rested on her thigh providing warmth and strength.
Though she wasn't paying much attention she did notice the Andy Biersack lyrics
that filled the car and knew he was only playing that song because it was her
favourite, it had played faintly in a café he'd taken her to once and she'd
taken a quick liking to it.
                                        
                           You're never gonna get it
                            I'm a hazard to myself
                           I'll break it to you easy
                          This is hell, this is hell
                         You're looking and whispering
                          You think I'm someone else
                              This is hell, yes.
                                 Literal hell.

                             We don't have to talk
                            We don't have to dance
                            We don't have to smile
                         We don't have to make friends
                           It's so nice to meet you,
                            Let's never meet again
                             We don't have to talk
                            We don't have to dance
                            We don't have to dance
                                        
 It made her smile to know he was trying to keep her calm and remind her she
was strong. The revealing fishnets somehow managed to keep her legs warm but
looking closely tiny scars were visible beneath them, she prayed to the Gods
that Joffrey didn't see them. There was a rather long scar that went up her
right calf, a thin red line that had healed far better than she'd expected two
or three years previous, Joffrey had done it one night when he was bored and
wanted to test a new hunting knife he'd gotten; Sansa shivered at the memory.
 Petyr parked where no one would see the car, the same place it had been when
he first took Sansa, and silenced the engine. Like a gentleman he helped her
out of the car noting that in her heels she was taller than him - which he
didn't like much, Petyr prefered it when she walked around the house in bare
feet and he only had to lean in to kiss her - slowly they walked towards the
building that had once been her cell. Her heart drummed dauntingly around her
chest and her breath came quickly, Petyr gripped her shaking hand while the
other held Lady's leash. When they got to the doorstep he placed his palms on
her shoulders and looked at her downcast eyes.
“Do you remember what I told you?” He asked in a deep voice.
“Act like it's just you.” She told him. “You're my Master, not him.”
 “That's right. You're mine.” His, yes she was his. “And you have Lady.” He
added as an after thought, moss colored eyes glanced down to the Wolfdog. He
raised his hands to cup his girl's cheeks. “You've been running all your life.
Terrible things happened to your family and you weep. You sit alone in a
darkened room mourning their fates. You've been a bystander to tragedy since
the day they executed your father. Stop being a bystander. Do you hear me? Stop
running. There's no justice in the world. Not unless we make it. You loved your
family. Avenge them.”
 There was a moment where neither of them moved, almost like Petyr needed a
second to prepare too, then he lifted a fist and knocked on the door.
 
                               XXXXFLASHBACKXXXX
                                        
Many memories of the day she had been kidnapped were gone, faded off into
nothingness, and what she did remember was vague at best. The sound of her
screams echoing along hallways as she was hauled up uneven stairs, or at least
they felt uneven, falling and tripping over her own feet for the few steps that
she managed to climb herself, the whole time a hand gripped her long red hair.
Dark, heavy leather had been forced around her neck, binding her to the prison,
locking with an eerie 'click', a sound that would remain in her brain until the
end of time. Her pale skin had burnt and bruised, bled and stung, with it's
rough embrace. Sansa's clothes had been torn from her by the blonde woman as a
boy with the same hair and only a little older than Sansa herself watched on
without a word, only the occasional mocking giggle that thundered through her
ears.
Her 'owner' never used her name, the blonde woman she'd assumed was his mother
told him but the boy had just said 'I don't like it' and the mother seemingly
uncaring had left him with his new 'toy'. The name Sansa Stark wasn't spoken
from that moment on, was denied to her, she was not Sansa just pet, slave or
whore. There were days years later when her name was long lost to her just as
the ones of her brothers, sister and parents were; while on other days the name
would circle around her brain in an unending cycle.
Azure eyes held no joy after her confinement, only fear and pain, eventually it
got to the point where she couldn't remember what other emotions felt like. In
the beginning, the early years, she'd wished and prayed to the old gods and the
new that someone would rescue her, a knight coming for the fair maiden, or to
be woken by her Mother and taken away from the torturous nightmare that had
become her life. No, no one ever came to save her. No one cared about an animal
under a lions bed. The collar had hurt at first and then grown into agony but
eventually, after enough years, the pain faded... or she became numb to it,
deep down she knew which was more likely. With the pain the rest of her fragile
body endured, Pet decided that her pale neck no longer told her of its constant
agony, like her mind it had given up long ago.
She did not have life, no, just existence. How could she ever 'live' when Pet
couldn't even leave her bed prison. Her warden, her owner just beyond. In the
first few months Joffrey would hide away and wait for the redhead to show a
single glint of hope, only to pounce and destroy it like a cat with a mouse. At
the age of ten her Master knew nothing of the sexual violence he could cause
her and so beatings where the most common cause for her tears; not that the
ability to cry lasted long. As he grew older blades became a favourite of his
and then finally he discovered sex and porn, that was when the last little bit
of Sansa Stark seemingly faded away leaving only a shell.
One of his favoured tortures to inflict upon her was called 'bath time', she
would be freed of the collar for an even more painful experience. Pet's
neglected body would be heaved along the floor away from her cell by a firm
grip on her filthy hair and into the bathroom; each time the bath had been
filled almost to overflowing by cold icy water. Joffrey would giggle like it
was some sadistic game and then force her head under, plunging Pet into
oblivion, water would cascade around her soft but dirty cheeks causing her hair
to float as though it were sailing on a breeze; that was the only beauty Pet
ever saw. There was always a brief pause, a single frozen moment in which she
felt free, a single second where everything stopped; her Master's yelling, the
pain, the self-loathing, everything would stop for that split second and she'd
feel nothing but utter tranquillity... it never lasted though. Soon enough that
millisecond was over and they were on to the next one, her lungs would grow
tight as air ran dry, red hair tangled around her face like a shroud and her
eyes would clench shut as the blackness encroached. Pet would hear her heart
thumping in terror, like a rabbit caught in a snare, and her mind would cease
to function.
Only when the darkness had taken over her vision and her panic started to die
would her head be pulled back from the icy depths, oxygen flooding into her
lungs just long enough to push out the black before her head was submerged
again and it all started over. This would go on until Joffrey found himself
bored, only then would Pet be able to draw breaths freely.
Sometimes her Master wouldn't touch her, instead he'd flop down onto his bed
almost crushing her underneath, bedsprings pinching her with their metal bites,
he'd be drenched in the smell of liquor and drugs as well as every type of junk
food in existence. Those times he would leave her be, safe for one night and
she would actually feel as though she owed him thanks for that. 'Thank you
Master for not hurting Pet.' These were her favourite nights but they were very
few and far between, most nights did not bestow such a gift. Large hands would
grip her feet, nails pressing into her skin so deep she bled, and drag her from
her safe place then thrown onto his bed. Pinned down by his full weight, naked
and scared, with his roaming hands marking her little form, long ago she had
cried but soon those tears dried up and she learnt to remain silent. In a way
it made it less painful for Pet.
When Joffrey was done with his slave she'd find herself cast off back to the
floor. Abandoned for another evening. Treated like garbage and discarded back
to her cell. The teenager's mind may have found a method of escape but her body
was still forced to live in a miserable and wrenched state. Burnt with
cigarettes, cut with whatever new blade he'd found, punched, kicked, raped,
drown, it got to the point where she couldn't even remember how many ways he
had of hurting her. She'd learnt quickly enough he wanted her to scream and
call for help, it amused him.
As she grew her mind had tried to spit itself and separate itself from her
battered body, hiding away somewhere happier; the only escape she had. Father
was dead, Mother was dead, Robb was dead, Jon, her sister and two brothers
whose names were lost to her, everyone who had ever cared was dead and gone.
Joffrey vanished for most of the day always saying something like 'off to work'
or 'it will be mine soon enough', Pet liked it then because she was alone, no
Master, no being loaned out, just her and a few blissful hours of solitude.
From her floor based prison the girl could just see out a window by her
Master's bed and out into the far off distance, pastel blues and soft fluffy
clouds that were carried by slow and gentle winds. She longed to be one of
those clouds high up in the heavens where she could finally drift away from her
Master but she felt guilty for that, Pet had no right to wants or desires. She
had nothing but her chains and fears, forbidden to have more.
Those thoughts of rescue that had once kept her going were forgotten as nothing
more than the dreams of an eight year old girl. She only had two wishes by the
age of twelve; death and to remember her family. What did her father look like?
What were the names of her younger brothers and sister? Why had they been
murdered? After she didn't know how many years the girl stopped wishing, it was
pointless.
When Death didn't come for her she decided to go to him,   while Joffrey was
gone she'd wrapped her chain as tightly as she could around the    legs of his
bed and pulled with all her might. The leather had bitten into her flesh and
her azure eyes had grown hazy while the darkness revealed its intentions for
her, she'd felt as though she were being freed. Like all good things in her
life it didn't come. Joffrey had forced air into her lungs, pulling her back
like being hauled over broken glass. Cersei Lannister had stolen her family,
Joffrey had stolen her childhood, her virtue, her happiness, and when there was
nothing left for him to take...
 ...he stole her death as well.
Chapter End Notes
     The first set of lyrics are Sound of Silence, the Disturbed version
     not Simon and Garfunkel. The second lyrics are We Don't Have To Dance
     by Andy Biersack.
     When I was writing the conversation outside Joffrey's house between
     Sansa and Petyr I just couldn't help but add in his speech from
     season 5 ep 3, it fitted so wonderfully.
***** You Will Let Me Know When Those Lambs Stop Screaming. *****
Chapter Notes
     The chapter title is obviously what Hannibal says to Clarice in
     Silence Of The Lambs, I thought it fitting for the situation.
     Sorry this chapter isn't as long as my others and it's a lot of
     speech.
 There was a moment where neither of them moved, almost like Petyr needed a
second to prepare too, then he lifted a fist and knocked on the door.
 Sansa searched for every calming memory she had and clung onto it as they
waited for her old Master to answer the door, Petyr said she was brave, he
believed in her and Sansa was inclined to believe him but that didn't stop her
shaking. Finally the door flew open and Sansa was proud that she didn't scream
and head for the car.
 “Alright Kaegan- what the hell are you doing here, Baelish?” Joffrey demanded
when he realised Petyr wasn't his friend. Then he noticed brunette Sansa. “With
your lovely niece.” Lady growled. “Oh, and a pet.”
 Sansa cringed at that word, she wasn't  Pet any longer. On a brighter note he
didn't seem to recognise her and that gave Sansa a huge, and much needed, boost
to her confidence. The girl petted Lady's head to quieten her down but she
could feel the tension in her best friend, it mirrored her own; in fact Petyr
was the only one who appeared at ease.
 “Just something Tywin is planning, thought you'd want a heads up in a place
he'd never expect me to be.” He grinned at the blonde. “Can we come in?”
 Petyr didn't wait for a response he just stepped inside keeping himself
between Sansa and the false Baratheon as she stepped over the threshold.
Joffrey slammed the door shut behind the pair with a impatient look on his
face, the Cleaner ignored this and sat himself down at the dining table between
an L shaped couch and Joffrey's open plan kitchen that looked as though it
wasn't used very often. Sansa stood a few inches to his side with Lady on her
leash who still looked as though she would like to rip the blonde's throat out,
neither Petyr nor his girl blamed her.
 “What's the old bastard doing now?” Joffrey asked as he slumped down into the
seat across from the CFO.
 Again Petyr ignored everything Joffrey was saying and took Lady's cerulean
leash from Sansa gently, the blonde's eyes flashed up to Sansa, or Alayne as he
knew her, taking in every inch of her stunning outfit. She was so beautiful,
long legs that vanished into black sailor shorts and an eye catching cleavage;
the Lannister licked his lips. There was something familiar about her but she
was Baelish's niece so Joffrey just assumed there was a family resemblance he
couldn't quite place, Baelish blood or not Alayne was stunning. In fact once
the CFO was done with whatever the hell he had to say Joffrey intended to sweep
the girl off her feet. His mind came back when Petyr started to speak to his
niece.
 “Sweetling, do you think you could get us a drink?” He gestured to the bar
behind the Lannister.
Sansa didn't speak, knew that her voice would give her away in seconds and at
that moment she thought it would come out a scream rather than words, instead
she nodded and summoned all her courage to hold her head high as heels ckick-
clacked on the wood floor and she passed her old Master. Has he really not
noticed me?With black hair held in loose curls, skin void of bruises and a
skinny but fed body she was a very different person; personbeing the operative
word. Shaking hands reached out for the whiskey bottle and she actually smiled
looking at the label for she knew what her Master would say; you drink this
blended shit?Carefully Sansa poured two glasses desperately trying not to spill
a single drop, Petyr making conversation behind her but she could feel
Joffrey's eyes on her backside. He'll see the scars,her mind said unhelpfully,
the fishnets won't hide the marks. Sansa did everything in her power not to
panic.
 “You're niece isn't very chatty is she?” Joffrey seemed annoyed, but that was
how he always sounded so who could tell. Petyr didn't answer.
 Cautiously she turned and set the glasses down before each of the men, then
retreated to her spot behind Petyr.
 “You look familiar, have we met?” The blonde asked and all Sansa could do was
shake her head, no words came out.
“Doubt it.” Petyr answered for her and for that she was thankful. “She's from
the north.” The older man then raised his glass as a silent cheersand took a
sip. “Ehh, you drink this blended shit?”
 If she hadn't have been so frightened Sansa would have laughed. Joffrey
returned the gesture and both men took a long sip of whiskey, more of a gulp in
the blonde's case.
 “Joffrey,” Petyr began. “I must confess I lied. Tywin isn't planning anything,
well, nothing that affects you anyway. I just wanted us to have a drink
together.”
 “A drink?” Joffrey deadpanned. “Seriously? Well, looks like that's over so get
out. Kaegan will be here soon.”
 “No he won't.” Petyr's face was utterly unreadable and if Sansa didn't know
better she would have said Joffrey looked nervous. “I sent that message. Your
dear disowned friend has no idea you to were meant to meet tonight.”
 Tension ran through Joffrey's blood, he'd never admit it but he was afraid of
Littlefinger, the man could turn on you in less than a heartbeat and no one
would know until they were dead. In a way he was more dangerous than Tywin or
Cersei, hell even Ramsay and that bastard was fucking crazy. Joffrey opened his
mouth to spew out a stupid and insulting comment that he though would make him
look brave and strong but he never got there, Petyr's voice beat him to it.
 “I can see you're not very bright so I'll explain like adults always have to
for infants. I'll tell you a story.” The older man leaned back in his seat and
crossed his legs. “Once upon a time there was a golden lion with three cubs.
The eldest of which was the prodigal son, the next was a beautiful lioness with
claws sharper than any other, but the last child was small and the golden lion
dismissed him as nothing more than a monster paying no attention to his
intellect, because although the little lion was small in size his mind was vast
and full.”
“What the fuck?!”
 “Shush! I'm telling a story. All children like stories.” Petyr cleared his
throat and continued. “Now, the golden lion was powerful but he still wanted
more, it was never enough for his liking, so he started a new business beyond
the one he already had. He started to traffic young girls, drugs and weapons.
All the things a lion shouldn't do. Over time the golden lion owned almost
everything, until he met the Stags, who owned everything else. You see the
stags were just as powerful but they weren't corrupt like the lions. The golden
lion wanted what they had and so he married his daughter lioness off to the
leader of the stags, called it sharing what they had and all was right with the
world. But this is a Grimm story, not Disney. All  was right with the world
until the stag grew suspicious, so suspicious in fact that he went to his
friend the wolf for help. You see the wolves were the law and posed a threat to
the golden lion. The stag and wolf knowing they had no evidence turned to the
little lion for aid, the third child hated his father for how he'd been treated
and so was quick to grant them help. The little lion told them of all he knew,
everything the wolf needed to know, yet tales were not all the wolf needed to
convict, evidence was crucial. Evidence meant they needed the mockingbird for
he had everything that the golden lion hid, picked it up with his talons and
carried it off for a rainy day. So together the mockingbird, little lion, wolf
and stag built their case, but then something happened. Something that the
golden lion's daughter couldn't tolerate. The stag learnt that his child, the
antlered lion, had no stag in him. These antlers were fake and would easily
fall from his blonde crown. The lioness and her prodigal brother had parented
the child, as well as her two other children. The shame and consequences that
would follow couldn't be allowed, so before the idea had fully formed in the
mother lion's head she sent blades to kill her stag husband and made it look
like a hunting accident. All thought it a tragedy but the mockingbird, little
lion and wolf knew the truth. Somehow though the lioness found out about the
wolf and her younger brother, most of the law was owned by the lions, they
didn't know about the mockingbird though for he was smart and cunning. The
little lion fled but the wolf was no so lucky. On a dark night when the moon
was full and the wolf was with his pack the lioness attacked and the wolf was
murdered. His beautiful wife and her innocence children butchered and burnt to
the point that no one realised what the lioness had done. She spoilt her
bastard son and took him a toy, a young wolf by the name of Sansa Stark. A
sweet eight year old girl that the bastard lion raped, beat and tortured until
she could barely remember her own name.”
 “Who cares?!” Came Joffrey's interruption, pausing the story. The blonde
coughed. “She was just a plaything. This story is boring and lies.”
“Oh, have you got a bit of a cough? Drink your whiskey, you'll feel better.”
 Joffrey downed what was left in the glass and his soft coughs stopped.
 “Let's get back to the story, shall we Joffrey?” He didn't wait for an answer.
“Years went by and the inbred lion grew up, he kept the girl chained and naked.
The wolf thought this was to be her life forever, until one night when the
bastard lion was arrested and the mockingbird was sent to clean it up. Do you
know what he found? He found the wolf.” Joffrey coughed again, this time louder
than before. “And do you know what he did?” Petyr uncrossed his legs. “Sansa
come here please.”
 Sansa had been waiting for that moment, she clicked her heels only a few steps
to his side and let him pull her into his lap; her body vibrated with fear. She
took a deep breath as he pulled off her long black wig revealing the red
underneath; Joffrey's eyes widened as he coughed.
“He took her for his own and made the wolf a promise. Kill whatever hurt her
and take his own revenge at the same time.”
 “So what?!” He coughed. “You're going to try and...” He coughed again, loud
and from the back of his throat. “... kill me, Littlefinger?”
 Petyr laughed.
 “No. Sansa killed you five minutes ago. I'm just here to tell you why. Think
of me as the narrator of this little tale.”
The bastard lion's eyes fell to the empty glass before him with realisation, he
was already dead. His face started to grow purple and the coughing grated
against his throat making it bleed.
 “Do you want to watch him die, Sweetling?”
 “No.” Came her soft voice, she wasn't afraid any more, there was nothing
Joffrey could do to hurt her. “He doesn't deserve anyone to be there when he
dies. He should be alone and scared in the dark.”
“Home it is then. Up.”
 Sansa stood along with Baelish who took a pair of black latex gloves from his
suit pocket, slipping them on before picking up the glass he drank from and
wiping it with a handkerchief. From another pocket he produced a small black
plastic box from which he took a small piece of tape, pressing it to the clean
glass a fingerprint was transferred; the fingerprint of one Kaegan Irelan. At
that moment Joffrey slipped from his chair onto the floor with a loud thud, he
wasn't dead yet but there was no saving him. The poison Sansa had put into his
glass would work slowly and drag out his pain. Sansa held Lady's leash and made
no sounds at all as Petyr rounded the table to retrieve the bottle Sansa had
poured from, wiping it down before crouching down to Joffrey and pressing his
hand to it.
 “It's all well and good putting prints onto the glass but Joffrey owns this
bottle, its half empty too so his fingerprints need to be on it. It would be
suspicious if his weren't there.” He explained but Sansa remained silent.
 Petyr repeated the action with the poisoned glass while the blonde gasped for
air on the hardwood floor.
“You know, from the noise he's making I'd think he was in pain.” Petyr said
with sarcasm.
“Karma.”
 Baelish laughed, his girl could be dark when she wanted to be.
 “Come on, Sweetling. Let's go home.”
 Sansa took his hand and let him guide her to the door but they both came to a
dead stop about a foot from it.  Was that crying?  Cautiously Petyr, Sansa and
Lady made their way up the stairs leaving Joffrey alone, the redhead didn't
want to ever enter Joffrey's bedroom again but the crying grew louder and
something inside her made Sansa want to run to it. Petyr pushed open the door
to Joffrey's room and sighed.
“Oh God.”
 There on the bed was a dead woman with long copper hair just like Sansa's,
she'd been strangled with the bedsheets. That wasn't what had their attention
though, sat on the floor crying his eyes out was a baby boy, Joffrey had drawn
a target on his forehead with a black marker. Sansa didn't know what this
feeling inside her was but she barged passed her Master and over to the child
before she knew she'd moved, she pulled the young boy, not even a year old,
into her arms and held him close.
“Master-?”
 “I know.” He interrupted. “Joffrey's killed before, but a baby?” Even Petyr
drew the line at hurting children, the boy in Sansa's arms could have been more
than ten months old.
“Master, we can't leave him here.”
 It was true, but Petyr really didn't like children.
 “Fine, bring him. He'll be half dead by the time someone finds Joffrey anyway.
And grab that bag.”
 Sansa grinned and threw the powder blue bag covered in clouds over her
shoulder, she had no idea what it was but didn't care to ask at that moment in
time. Petyr took Lady's leash and Sansa followed him back down the stairs, the
whole time she could practically hear the cogs in her Master's head turning; he
was plotting something.
 Joffrey was bleeding from almost every orifice and the coughing had turned
into quiet almost none existent gags; he'd be gone soon. His face was purple
and Sansa hoped it hurt. Petyr clicked off the lights with a still gloved hand
as they left, leaving Joffrey alone in the dark to die. And that was exactly
what he deserved. Everything was dark and so silent it hurt his bleeding ears
and then...
...nothing.
***** The Day After Yesterday *****
Chapter Notes
     Have we really gotten to 20 chapters already? It seems like only last
     week I posted the first chapter. BIG thank you to everyone who has
     commented, bookmarked and left kudos, I love you all.
They'd re-entered the house not an hour before and Sansa had taken the young
boy straight upstairs to clean off that ridiculous marker from his little
cherub-like face. Petyr himself stood in his kitchen practically guzzling fifty
year old whiskey down.
 “I take it my dear nephew is no more.” Came Tyrion's voice form behind him and
Petyr turned to face the blonde dwarf with a frown.
 “Yes, Joffrey is dead.” Petyr said flatly and Tyrion smiled to himself as
though he'd been told a joke.
 “I've just thought, the only members of my family I don't want dead is Jaime,
Tommen and Myrcella, and I'm still indifferent about Jaime. Does that make me a
terrible sibling and son?” He asked absent-mindedly.
 “No.” Was Petyr's quick reply. “It means they're bad family.”
 “Sansa was crying when you came back, sounded like a scared infant. I told you
she wasn't ready for this but you just had-” Petyr cut Tyrion off with a raised
hand.
 “She didn't cry, she's rather a lot darker than we all believe. And the crying
was the baby.” Baelish drained another glass of whiskey before setting his
crystal tumbler down and pouring more rich amber liquid into it.
“Baby?” Tyrion's confused expression was almost comical.
“Tyrion can we please do this tomorrow? It's one in the morning and I want
sleep.”
 He didn't give the Lannister time to respond he just walked away leaving
Tyrion alone in the dark kitchen with a half drunk bottle of single malt.
Petyr's feet carried him into the vestibule and up the stairs towards Sansa's
room, sipping slowly as he went. If he was asked Baelish would have said he
drank so much whiskey that night to get the taste of Joffrey's blended crap out
of his palate, but in reality he was trying to forget just how much like her
mother Sansa looked. Holding that baby with tear-y eyes had been just like
Catelyn when she first had Robb. The amber liquid seemed to have done its job
though, at least for a short time, and Petyr managed to open her bedroom door
letting his feet carry him inside. There he found his beautiful redhead holding
a sleeping infant wrapped in a navy blanket in her arms. Sansa looked stunning
sat cross-legged on her bed humming quietly to the boy.
“Master, what's going to happen to Tristan?” Her voice was quiet?
“Tristan?” He questioned as he moved into the bedroom, looking down at the
pale-faced child with short black locks. “How do you know his name?”
 “There was a blanket in the bag you told me to bring.” Clearly the one he was
wrapped in now. “There's a 'T' on it. You told me about Tristan and Isolde last
night so I thought we could call him that until we knew his name.”
Something along the lines of oh fuck she's named himwent though Petyr's head
but he didn't question her, he was too drunk and too tired to do that.
 “The mother's driving licence said her name was Leontine Yvaine, I have a
contact in the office of births, marriages and deaths who can get me her
history and the name of the child.” Petyr wetted his lips. “Once we have that
we can leave him with his family, does that sound good?”
 “Yes, Master.” She didn't want the boy to be alone. “But what if Tristan
doesn't have any family?”
“Then he goes to a hospital, they'll take care of him. Now, how you get him to
calm down?”
 Sansa looked up but only to her Master's nose, never any higher, before
answering him.
 “I used your laptop to see how to get a baby to stop crying. It said other
things too, there's milk in the bag but the website said it shouldn't be really
cold like it is now..”
Gods she really has looked into this.
“When he wakes I'll warm it up for you. I'm going to feed Lady and the go to
bed.”
  Just because he didn't like children didn't mean he wouldn't help Sansa who
already seemed to adore the child. He heard an    okay Master    as he left the
room to feed Lady, the animal was grateful and ate quickly. Tyrion had vanished
from the kitchen which meant one of two things, either he'd gone to bed or, the
more likely, had gone to the library to read and drink. Petyr would probably
find him there the next morning having passed out.      He screwed the cap back
onto his bottle of single malt and pushed it back so a drunk Tyrion wouldn't
knock it off accidentally before heading back to Sansa's room. The light was
off but Petyr went in anyway, Sansa had stripped off the revealing outfit
leaving it folded neatly on the dresser and donned the orange shirt he'd given
her to sleep in. His girl lay on her side, hair flowing around her head like a
copper crown with the baby in her arms; motherhood suited her. Petyr wasn't
stupid, he knew she wanted to protect this little life the way he had protected
her, but the baby would be gone by the end of     the next day, two     at
most. It would upset his girl but she'd know he was safe and loved. As he
stared down at the two of them the Cleaner felt the liquor kicking in and it
was going to be a    very    long day when the sun came up, what with Vaith
Incorporated and the dead bastard of Ja    im    e and Cersei Lannister of
course. No matter what Petyr had a solid alibi, with a little knowledge of the
cameras at The Mockingbird, Teiichi who was basically his    doppelgänger and a
duplicate mockingbird pin, no one would know. Petyr had been using that one
for a good five years and police were still none the wiser, as long as one of
his beloved Aston Martins were parked outside and they saw that pin, they
assumed it was Baelish and moved on with their   enquiries.   Especially when
Teiichi would drive his car back to Petyr's home when the club closed, Petyr
didn't like anyone but him driving his cars but Teiichi had proved himself
capable.
 He'd done all that, had a little too much to drink and his body just collapsed
down next to Sansa still dressed, only toeing off his shoes before his eyes
fell shut and sleep took him; thankfully baby Tristan was a good sleeper and
didn't wake the whole house.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
 The sun had been up for a few hours when Tristan began to wriggle in Sansa's
arms, Petyr had always been a light sleeper so it woke him before his girl; he
knew he was late for work but to be honest the executives only showed up when
they wanted to or had a huge pile of paperwork. After last night Sansa deserved
all the sleep she could get, killing Joffrey Baratheon was no small thing, that
was how he found himself pulling the child into his arms and grabbing one of
the bottles of milk before carrying him downstairs before Sansa could be
roused. He didn't like children, had always found them annoying and demanding,
even when he was a child himself. No, Petyr didn't like children at all and yet
there he was at nine in the morning heading to the kitchen to feed a baby. Much
to his pleasure Tristan didn't make too much noise but he did wriggle as he
blathered to himself. As soon as Petyr entered the open plan kitchen Tyrion's
head poked up from the couch, seemed that was where he'd passed out for the
evening, the blonde looked tired but was full of questions about Tristan. Petyr
supported the child on his hip in one arm while other filled a pan with water
and sat the bottle in it to warm, he'd seen Catelyn do it enough times to be
able to warm a bottle. Tyrion was shirtless and Lady had spent the night asleep
on the lions legs.
“Fuck. I thought you were kidding about the kid.”
Lady jumped up and came over to investigate the small human, soon enough the
milk was warm and Tristan was drinking happily.
 “Seriously, why is there a kid?” Tyrion asked again and Petyr realised he'd
ignored the last time the blonde had asked.
 “Well your moron of a nephew either abducted a young woman and her son or, I
don't know, paid her to fuck him with her son there. All I know is that the
mother is dead and Sansa wouldn't leave the child. That didn't surprise me.
He'll be going to family as soon as my contact is done, as for Sansa she needs
her sleep, especially since she got up to change him.”
 “You don't like kids do you?” Tyrion grinned while searching for his shirt.
 “No.” Came Petyr's quick answer.
 “Really? And yet you seem to have your father hat on right now.”
 “No, I'm just a skilled actor.” Tristan slurped happily and Tyrion pulled his
deep red shirt out from under the coffee table with a look of accomplishment.
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. I'm going to take a shower, you enjoy
your daddy and me time.”
 With that Tyrion was gone and Petyr wanted to throw something at the dwarf but
Tristan was eating quietly and he wasn't going to deal with a crying child if
he didn't have to.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
 Everything had blown up that day. The news went mental with stories of
Joffrey's murder, there were reports from outside his home and Lion and Stag.
As soon as Petyr stepped off the elevator he found things eerily silent,
apparently Cersei had found him, dry blood dripping from his face with ice cold
skin, when he hadn't answered her calls. From the looks of the fifty-first
floor everyone was too scared to voice an opinion on the subject, even Pycelle
kept his mouth shut; which was a miracle if ever there was one. There wasn't a
single Lannister in sight yet the dominating power and threat remained.
 “Good morning, Gwendolyn.” Petyr greeted upon reaching his assistants desk.
“Morning, Mister Baelish. I'm not sure we can say goodthough.”
“Yes, such a tragedy. Is there any mail?” He asked while glancing down to his
watch.
 “This was couriered for you this morning.” The kind blonde assistant handed
him a manilla envelope. “Oh, and Mister Lannister has moved today's meeting
from one-thirty to three o'clock. I can't blame him, poor man.” She was
probably the only person on that floor that felt bad over Joffrey's death;  too
kind a heart the stupid girl.  Petyr turned towards his office but Gwendolyn
stopped him. “Sir, Mister Varys also left a list of Ramsay Bolton's men for
you, I put it on your desk.”
“Thank you. Get me some coffee would you?” He asked with a smile his head
didn't ache from the amount of whiskey he'd drank the previous evening but the
threat was there.
“Of course, Sir.”
 “I'll be in my office for most of the day, if anyone calls tell them I'm out
unless it's Alayne.”
 “How is your niece, Mister Baelish?” Gwendolyn seemed to perk up at the
mention of his darling Sansa, who wouldn't? “She's a beautiful girl.”
She's trying to drag me into conversation again   said Petyr's mind and though
he didn't want to talk to his assistant he needed to stay polite; Gwendolyn was
very good at her job.
 “Yes she is and Alyane is fine, thank you for asking.”
 Before the blonde could ask anything more Petyr darted into his office and out
of sight. He spent what was left of the morning going over the list of names
Varys had left him and got most of the information he needed back rather
quickly, with most of them it was nothing more than traffic violations but
Ramsay was a different story all together. There were several assault and
assault with a deadly weapon charges but most of them seem to have been dropped
for one reason or another, most recently it seemed that a man and a baseball
bat had an altercation. If anything that would work as a boon for Lion and
Stag, or at least for a while. Petyr worked quietly for a long time, only ever
speaking to have Gwendolyn bring him more rich black coffee   , there was no
headache but the dry mouth symptom of a hangover clung to him, as he worked
Baelish couldn't help but wonder how Sansa was getting on with the child. Sansa
hadn't called so he doubted that she'd lost control of Tristan, Tyrion was
probably still laughing about Petyr feeding the boy that morning.
W  hen three o'clock rolled round Petyr finally left his office and padded
along the labyrinth of hallways to the boardroom,    the Cleaner hadn't thought
Tywin would put off work after Joffrey's death,    he wasn't the sort of man
for mourning, but it had happened and Petyr wouldn't go looking too much into
it. He was last into the room and took his usual seat beside Varys,    Tywin
went on for a time about him being away for a week or so, he never said it but
they all knew it was to keep Cersei from doing something stupid and because the
press expected it.
“Baelish you're in charge while I'm away and Jaime is in Dorne.” Petyr raised
an eyebrow. “I trust none of you as far as I can throw you, especially you
Baelish. However, you're the only one who seems competent with money and knows
how to run a business properly. You better enjoy keeping my throne warm for me
because it's the closest you're ever going to get to my kingdom. Fuck this up
and you're dead.” Tywin warned.
“I rarely fuck up.”Petyr grinned.
 The meeting went on as normal after that, Pycelle kept shooting him odd
glances that said   I've been here longer, why you?  Petyr ignored this,
Pycelle was just an annoying old man who thought he had more power than he
actually did.    Vaith had fallen enough for them to go in for the kill and
Petyr had just been assigned temporary Vice President status, now if he could
just get rid of the child and dwarf in his house everything would be wonderful.
The meeting didn't last long once Tywin and Varys had gone over his findings on
Ramsay Bolton's men, with   get them some ID tags  they were hired and the
meeting was over.
Petyr sauntered back to his office with a smug grin   and passed Gwendolyn who
was typing up his weekly schedule, once back in his leather chair he reached
for the manilla envelope that had been couriered to him, opening it proved far
more difficult because an angry lioness burst into his office with a look that
could cut diamonds. Gwendolyn wore an expression of fear as she quietly shut
the door leaving them alone, Cersei slammed her fists down on the table almost
growling at Baelish who wasn't overly impressed. With a sigh the Cleaner set
his envelope down for another time and gave Cersei the attention sh  e so
clearly wanted.
“Yes?” He asked expectantly.
 Petyr had never seen Cersei show much emotion beyond anger and hate, yet the
slight running of her mascara and the redness in her eyes indicated she'd been
crying; Petyr liked that look on her.   That's right, suffer.
“My son was murdered!” She all but yelled. “I want who did it to hurt, to burn
on a spit and watch as their heart is ripped from their body! I want them to
hurt! To suffer! To regret the day they were born!”
Yes, make them hurt, I get the message.
“Does Jaime know?”
 He asked out of curiosity rather than responding to anything the lioness had
said. The mention of Jaime seemed to calm her a little and she stood up
straight and took a deep breath.
“Yes. Police think they know who did this to my boy but they won't tell me who
until they have him in custody. Not even my informants.”
“Because they know that will get straight back to them-”
“Who cares?!” She cut him off with a growl. “My baby boy is gone. Viciously
murdered. Find who did this and kill them, make blood drip from the walls.”
Perfect, two birds one stone. I can get rid of Kaegan Irelan before he tells
anyone about the service I provide and Cersei thinks I'm working for her.
 “Of course, Cersei. This is what I do.” He told her with a grin.
“Good. I want who did this to feel the pain my son felt ten fold.”
Without so much as a  bye  she was gone, storming back out of his office
leaving Gwendolyn to close the door yet again, except she didn't. The blonde
loitered in his doorway for a moment or two with a worried look on her face
before finally finding the strength to speak.
 “Em, Mister Baelish? Are you alright?”
“Yes, thank you Gwendolyn.” He sighed and leaned back against his chair.
 “I know you didn't want disturbing but Miss Lannister was rather demanding.”
“She always is. It's okay. Go back to whatever you were doing.”
 He brushed Gwendolyn off with a reassuring smile and was grateful when she
shut the door rather than questioning him any further. Petyr just wanted to go
home to Sansa, but that child and Tyrion    were still there. Less than a year
had gone by and Baelish had the last Stark in his bed, thinking she belonged to
him,   let's face the facts she does, Sansa is mine,  and dog who he'd actually
grown to like living in his house. He knew Tyrion wouldn't be leaving for a
while yet but the baby would be gone by the end of the next day, either with
his father or to a hospital; Petyr didn't care which.   The manilla envelope
lay forgotten for the rest of the day as Petyr worked through everything needed
to finally take over Vaith Incorporated, he was there until the sky had turned
dark and Gwendolyn hand gone home to her son;   he liked the office at night
when it was quiet. Baelish couldn't stay there forever though and eventually
flicked off his desk lamp and headed home.
***** Burnt Memories *****
Chapter Notes
     I know it's not Sunday yet but I'm posting this chapter today because
     there's more chance of Jeremy Renner agreeing to marry me than me
     finding time to post it tomorrow. I can still live in hope about
     Jeremy Renner though.
     Enjoy your Petyr/Sansa fix because this chapter is just full of
     fluff.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When he finally got home and pulled the Aston into his garage Petyr went
straight to his bedroom and changed into his sleep pants and a loose navy t-
shirt that showed off his tattoo sleeve, it had always been just for him but
Sansa seemed to adore it, maybe it was her artistic mindset. When he went back
down stairs he found Sansa sat at the dining table feeding Tristan who ate
happily in her arms, it was pasta bake but to Sansa it just looked like gloop;
Tristan seemed to like it though.
 “Hello, Sweetling.” He greeted his girl with a kiss to her pink lips.
 “Hello, Master. Tyrion asked me to tell you he went to the club.” She told him
while lifting another spoon of baby food to the young boy's lips. "He said he
wouldn't be back until morning.”
“Why am I not surprised?”  It also explained the text from Olyvar saying only
the dwarf has landed. “How is the boy?” He asked more for Sansa than actually
caring.
“Tristan is perfect, I know it's late but he had a long nap and was hungry.
He's been really good all day. He needs more food though, there is only one
more left.”
 “That's all he needs.” Petyr poured himself a glass of deep red wine and took
a sip while leaning against the breakfast bar, he could see Sansa only a few
feet from him, her shoulders dropped as the child finished his food. “I got his
records from my contact today, haven't opened it yet though, every time I tried
someone stormed into my office.”
 Sansa tried to smile and look happy for the boy but Petyr wasn't stupid, he
knew if the boy stayed any longer she'd grow attached; it was the mothering
instinct she got from Catelyn, he couldn't let that happen.
 “See you can go home, I'm sure they miss you.” Sansa told the young boy with a
smile.
 With Tristan having finished his meal Sansa cleaned around his mouth and
tidied up the dining table while Petyr went and got the envelope. He
begrudgingly agreed to hold the boy when she wanted to wash her hand, he'd met
worse children but he still wasn't sure about Tristan or whatever his real name
was. The reason Petyr didn't like children was mainly because they didn't like
him, but this one seemed to which was diffrent, there was no crying or angry
faces.  Alright child, you and I can get along for one more night. When Sansa
was done she quickly took Tristan back and Petyr was thankful for that, he knew
why she didn't want to let him go, the boy was alone and she was alone for so
long. She  needed to take care of him. A few moments later saw the three of
them sat on the couch with Lady snoozing in her big basket happily, Sansa
cuddled the boy close.  She'd make a good mother, gets it from Cat. Then it
struck him, she'd been with Joffrey and his so-called friends for a decade.
 “Sansa,” He started cautiously, praying to any deity that would listen that he
was wrong. “have... have you... have you ever had a baby?” Oh Gods why hadn't
he asked this sooner? Sansa just stared at his chin, never any higher, in
confusion and Petyr took that as a cause to elaborate; he thought for a moment.
“Has your stomach ever got large and round?”  Fuck! She has no idea how her own
body works.
“No, Master”
 “Oh thank fuck!” Petyr released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
 He seriously doubted Joffrey had ever used a condom, probably didn't know what
one was, which meant that one of them couldn't have children and he really
doubted it was Sansa.  Has to be the incestuous bastard!
“What does my stomach have to do with a baby, Master?” She asked while cuddling
a dozing Tristan.
Shit! He was going to have to explain now, he'd never expected to do that,
especially not to a girl he was having sex with on a regular basis.    Petyr
took a breath and started as best he could.
“Em, okay. How much did you research when looking up how to take care of
Tristan?” He asked calmly, he needed to know if she had any idea what he was
going to tell her.
“Just how to feed and change him.” She answered.
 “Right.” Petyr really didn't want to do this. “The purpose of sex, other than
enjoyment, is to make a baby.” He spoke slowly to make sure she kept up, though
he'd rather just speed through it and leave the room. Her expression was
growing more and more confused by the second. “The seminal fluid - the liquid
that comes...”  Gods this is awkward, Petyr wasn't embarrassed about
explaining, he just didn't like the blank look of perplexity he got from her.
“... out of men. Well, that goes into you, a female, and combines with these
little eggs in you. Then it grows into a baby over nine months inside the
woman, that's why your stomach would have gotten round. After those months the
child is born and you have a baby, like Tristan but smaller.”
 Sansa was quiet for a long time taking it all in, it seemed very strange and a
little impractical but she guessed this was something everyone knew so maybe it
wasn't strange to them.
“That's never happened, Master.” She deadpanned.
 “Good.” He seemed rather pleased with her answer and Sansa could only guess as
to why. “Let's never have this conversation again.” Sansa nodded but still
found herself speaking.
 “So that's how we were made?” Petyr nodded. “Doesn't that hurt?”
She felt a little silly when he snorted.
“Making a child doesn't but the birth, that hurts. However, there are drugs to
help with that now.”
 Petyr made to stand up and wander through the house to his home office to
finish off some paperwork for the next day - hide was probably a better
description - but he never got there because Sansa was filling his arms with
Tristan; he'd have preferred it if she hadn't.
“Would you hold Tristan while I go to the bathroom?”
I don't have much choice now do I?  His mind muttered as she stood up, despite
what his mind mumbled he answered a little differently.
 “Of course, Sweetling.”
 While Sansa was gone Petyr found himself sat there with Tristan held under his
armpits to face the Cleaner. Petyr Baelish didn't like children, most people
learned this right after they learned never to trust him, however, there he was
holding an young boy who clung to Copper.
“You know, you're the first child I've held since Arya Stark. That was back
when I saw a lot of Cat.” He added the last bit as an after thought. “The Stark
children called me Unclefor a time, even Sansa. I didn't like holding them,
save for Sansa she'd always smile at me. Her hair was such a bold red even back
then.” Petyr paused for a second while the boy just looked at him. “Does that
make me a pervert, Tristan? That I held her like I'm holding you and yet now
she calls meMasterand I have sex with her? Don't look so worried, you're safe
from me.”
Suddenly a memory came to his mind, something he'd forgotten a decade ago,
after the fire.Sansa came back into the room but found Petyr and Tristan gone,
she tilted her head to see into the kitchen but he wasn't there either, just as
the girl turned to go in search of her Master he re-entered the room with
Tristan rested on a hip in one arm with a white, but slightly singed, book in
the other.
 “I forgot all about this.” It sounded like he was talking to himself more than
Sansa. “Sweetling take a seat.”
 Sansa obeyed and petted Lady on the head when she came to sit beside her on
the floor, in seconds Petyr was at her side on the couch holding out the
charred book, she took it.
“What is it, Master?” The redhead asked while opening it to the first page.
 “It was your mother's photo album.” He said softly. “Cersei burnt your home
down after... after your parents and siblings died. She didn't know I was
helping Ned and sent me to make sure her man hadn't left evidence. They hadn't
but while going through the rubble I found this. You're Mother adored this, she
was never far from it. I wanted to see if any of you had somehow survived but
there were seven bodies carted off by the police, this was all I found that was
somewhat intact.” He seemed more pained by the memory than Sansa did. “The
seventh body everyone thought was you must have been the maid's daughter, the
maid vanished soon after. It was probably to stop her talking. I don't know
exactly why I took this, I was angry and not thinking. It's yours now.”
 Sansa looked at the pictures, the book was large and most of the photographs
had survived the fire which was a miracle in itself. The ones at the front were
of a family of five; Mother, Father, two red haired girls and a brunette boy. A
few pages later there was a second boy with messy black hair and moss colored
eyes.  That's after your Grandfather, Hoster, took me in.  Her Master had said
softly.
 “This one is your Aunt Lysa and the boy is your Uncle Edmure.”
 Pages continued to turn and Sansa watched as her Mother aged, growing from a
young girl to a smiling teenager. The group shots that included Petyr showed
the Lysa woman always a little  too close to him and Sansa felt a small pang of
jealousy vibrate through her. Around ten or so pages in she found one of her
Mother in a flowing white dress cutting a flower covered cake beside a man with
long dirty blonde hair.
 “Whose he?” The blue eyed girl asked.
 “That's your father. It was taken on their wedding day.”
 More pages turned and Petyr actually forgot that he held Tristan in his arms,
the boy was asleep and so quiet.
 “Is that one of my brothers? What was my youngest brother's name? Rikard?” Her
voice was a little hesitant.
 “No, Sweetling. You're youngest brother was named Rickon.” She smiled having
finally been given the answer to a question she'd asked herself for so many
years. “As for this, it's Robb just after he was born, your eldest brother. And
this-” Petyr cut himself off as he turned the white page and pointed to another
photograph. “This is me holding him, you're Mother forced me into that.”
 “You were so young.” She smiled and then started to panic. “Not that you're
old, Master. I didn't mean that.” Seeing his smile Sansa calmed knowing he
wasn't angry and tried to carry on. “How did you know my Mother, Master?”
 “Like I said, your Grandfather took me in when my father died. I was raised
with her.”
 Petyr left out the part about him being in love with her for most of his life,
said nothing about how Lysa had been obsessed with him; still was. Nor did he
mention her Uncle Edmure's gambling issues, none of these things she needed to
know and they would only worry her. Yes they were her only living family
besides Robin but she'd never be going anywhere near them. Lysa was crazy with
a capital  what the fuck and Edmure couldn't care less if she was alive or
dead. No, her Aunt and Uncle would be kept far away from his girl.
 “Is that Jon?” She suddenly questioned knocking Petyr from his thoughts.
 “Yes. Do you remember him?” Sansa nodded with a smile. “He was your cousin,
after your father's sister died they raised him.” He watched as her face
furrowed in a frown.
“I thought he was my brother.”
 “You and the others treated him like that but no, Jon was your cousin.” He
didn't like that look on her face and quickly wiped it off by pointing at
another image, this was all very domestic but Petyr wanted her to remember her
family, especially Cat. “This is you and me.”
 Petyr hadn't spent much time with Cat and the Starks after Sansa was born and
almost none after Arya's birth, Ned had never liked him and with Lannister
Incorporated growing in size Petyr just didn't have time. When the Lannisters
and the Baratheons merged forming Lion and Stag Enterprises there had been even
less time to spend with Catelyn. In fact that image of him holding a new born
Sansa was the last picture of him in the album, almost like he'd faded out of
existence.
“So you've always taken care of me.”
 It wasn't a question and once again Petyr was tugged from his thoughts. Tears
started to form in Sansa's eyes, he didn't like her crying but it was something
she'd only just learnt to do again, thankfully it was out of happiness rather
than sorrow. She was his girl and Petyr adored her, he pulled Sansa to him in a
one-armed hug, that was when he realised Tristan was still asleep in the other
so let her take him back.
“Thank you, Master. For giving me this.”
 “Of course, Sweetling. You're mother would have wanted you to have it, and
it's still half empty, we can take plenty of pictures of you to fill it.” Sansa
liked that idea. “Now, why don't we look at Tristan's family? I've been trying
to open this envelope all day.”
 The sooner he opened it the sooner he could get rid of the boy. Sansa shuffled
Tristan so as he had his little head rested against her shoulder. She didn't
want the boy to go but he would be happiest with his family, she watched as her
Master ripped open the envelope and started to read, stormy eyes flicking
across the page easily, she longed for the day when she could read so quickly.
Sansa watched an eyebrow raise which meant something hadn't gone the way he
wanted and Petyr was now mentally changing his plans as he leaned back on the
couch.
“It seems his name is actually Thorin Marx, he's eleven months old.”
“I prefer Tristan.” She mumbled to herself but Petyr heard it anyway and
answered.
 “So do I. Leontine Yvaine, his mother, has no living family. Just a
prostitute, so why was the child with her?” He asked himself absent-mindedly
before throwing away his thoughts and carrying on. “The father is Korbin
Marx... whose in prison for rape of a minor.”
“Please don't give Tristan to him, Master.” Sansa pleaded despite it not being
necessary.
“Don't worry, baby girl, I won't. I couldn't anyway.” Petyr leaned over and
pressed a kiss to her temple in soft reassurance. “There is a paternal
Grandmother but that's it, and it's only a last known address. It'll take a few
days to find her according to this.”
Her Master seemed perturbed by that, Sansa wasn't stupid she knew he wanted
Tristan gone.
“Does that mean Tristan can stay until then?” She asked hopefully.
Petyr knew why she wanted to keep him, but there was no way he was going to
keep the boy. A dog was one thing but an eleven month old? No, the boy was
going. However he relented.
 “Yes, Sweetling. You can keep him a few more days, but he's going.” He needed
her to remember that.
 Petyr was fully aware if the boy stayed longer it would all blow up in his
face, he couldn't let Sansa get too attached.
Chapter End Notes
     Oh, so much fluff.
***** Crimson *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNING: Death, Torture
     Petyr does some monologuing.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Petyr leaned back in his home office chair with his cellphone glued to his ear
by one hand while the other tapped a pen rhythmically against the dark wood of
his desk. The sun was high  in the sky and he was expected at Lion and Stag for
a meeting at three, he wasn't going to make that though;  note to self. Have
Gwendolyn send my regards to Pycelle.  To be honest he was debating not going
to that just to piss the older man off but now he had a legitimate reason, not
that he could tell Pycelle that.
“When was Irelan brought into holding?” He asked his police contact, one Tannis
K uznets.
“An hour and a half ago, other than him there's only one guy in the drunk tank
and he's out cold.”Tannis told him. “He'll be moved in five hours to a prison
cell to await trial. Detective Sparrow wants to throw the book and the library
at him. You know what Detective 'high and mighty' Sparrow is like.”
“Which prison?”
“Probably The Sept, it's the closest and Governor Baelor will want all the
attention to be on his prison, the murderer of Joffrey Baratheon will certainly
do that.”
“Alright, I'll be there in an hour.”
With that Petyr hung up on Tannis and shot up from his desk, he'd only had to
wait a day and a half for evidence to be processed and Kaegan Irelan to be
arrested and taken to the local station. Detective Sparrow was all about faith
and repenting of sins, by which he meant  confess so I look good and get
promoted again, Sparrow was more corrupt than the criminals - which was made
worse by the fact he actually thought he was doing the right thing - and Petyr
knew he couldn't let the bold bastard get to him before Petyr did.  The dark-
haired man who grew grey at his temples knew he only had a short window to do
as Cersei wanted and of course cover his own back. Kaegan knew his real job and
was the only threat to himself and Sansa, or at least for that week he was.
Petyr took the Kukri he had on display from his wall and looked at the blade,
it was inwardly curved and sharper than it looked. The hilt was oak stained
black with a deep red stone on the pommel.  He'd always liked dinner and a
show. With a new box of black latex gloves thrown into his trusty duffel bag
and a dark hoodie folded neatly beside the box Petyr was ready to  clean up his
loose end. He pressed a kiss to Sansa's pink lips before he left telling her he
was going to The Mockingbird, which wasn't a complete lie, she was sat on the
couch with Tristan, Lady and Tyrion but none of them noticed his lie.
Baelish had already called Teiichi to meet him at  the club, he always doubled
Petyr and the police were still yet to figure that out. Teiichi also loved
money so was always willing to don one of Petyr's suits and drive his car home
at the end of the day.  It didn't take long to swap places with Teiichi,
slipping on his black hoodie and pulling the hood up before leaving out the
back door where there were no cameras; Teiichi went off to do his job of being
Petyr Baelish while the real one walked towards the police station. The King's
Landing Police Department or KLPD was only around a fifteen minute walk from
his club and soon enough Petyr's feet had carried him there, Tannis opened up
the loading bay door for him and lead the Cleaner down a maze of grey-blue
halls into the holding cells.
“There's usually four of us in holding but Roth is out sick. The others got a
secret ingredient when they sent me out for lunch that made them go night-
night. They'll be out for a good hour.” Tannis Kuznets seemed impressed with
himself but Petyr remained stoic. “I've already turned off the camera's for
you.”
“Good.” Petyr remarked quickly. “Where is he?”
The Officer led Baelish down yet another grey-blue hallway that was littered
with cell doors before coming to a halt outside the very last one on the left.
Keys jangled as Kuznets looked for the right one, the lock slid out of place
and opened granting Petyr entrance.
“Remember you haven't got long.” The Officer warned as he closed the door
behind the older man.
Kaegan was sat on the far end of his makeshift bed rubbing at his wrists where
the handcuffs had been.
“Finally, I want a lawyer and a sandwich... oh, and I want to update my
facebook status.”
The movement stopped when he saw it was Baelish in his cell and shot to his
feet, smugness and stupid comments gone.
“What the fuck is going on here, Baelish?” The mocha skinned man demanded an
answer but Petyr didn't grant one. “Are you 'ere to get me out? Thank the Gods,
I was beginning to think I needed to call father. Dittmann Irelan is not a man
I want to call right now.”
Petyr ignored Kaegan's rambling and dropped his duffel bag to the floor with a
solid thud.
“Joffrey is dead.” Petyr said flatly. “All evidence points to you.”
“I didn't fucking kill him!”
“That's what all guilty people say.” Kaegan just scowled at the Cleaner.
“Look, Joffrey was my best friend...” That was a lie. “... They said somethin'
about a text I sent him and deleted, but I didn't. Baelish, I'm being framed!”
“I know.”
Petyr's expression remained blank and unreadable while Kaegan's face grew a
look that said  oh thank the Gods but it was short lived and fell to its death
quickly.
“I'm the one who framed you.”
“What?!”Anger surged through Kaegan's body and spurted out his mouth in a
growl.
“You heard me.” The Cleaner's voice remained quiet and almost emotionless.
“You bastard!”
Kaegan launched himself at Petyr but the older man had been expecting it and
easily dodged out of his way, he didn't stand a chance in a fight, Petyr knew
that, and so his Colt Gold Cup came quickly to his hands and he fired, despite
the suppressor the weapon still made a destinct sounding  pop.  The bullet hit
Kaegan squarely in the back of the neck sending him to the floor in an instant,
face down.
“Don't bother trying to move, Kaegan, you can't. You see I'm rather good with
firearms. You've been expertly hit in the neck, it's not a fatal wound, I
missed every artery you have. However, you were paralysed before the bullet
even left your body. Fortunately for me though, that doesn't mean you can't
feel pain.”
Petyr lifted Kaegan's dead weight into his arms and laid the younger man out on
the makeshift slab Police called a bed. It was pressed up against the wall on
two sides so Petyr had little room to work with, he wouldn't let that stop him
though.
“Don't look so downtrodden, Kaegan. You'd have beaten me if we fought as you
wished, but no one compares to me with a pistol.” He smiled. “You know, I've
found that everything is falling into place with my little plan, it's been
years in the making but we're almost in the final stage now. The curtain call
is coming. Cersei commissioned your death, said she wanted it to hurt.” Petyr
paused in his speech to retrieve the Kukri he'd taken from his home office out
and played with it not four inches from Kaegan's face. “They say this blade is
blessed, maybe it is or maybe it isn't, but I don't think that extends to those
who take get in the chest.” He looked down to Irelan's bold brown and terrified
eyes. “She wants blood to drip from the walls by the time I'm done with you and
throughout the whole thing she wants you to be in tremendous agony. But I don't
give a shit what Cersei Lannister wants, never did. I  was going to do all
those things to you but now you've forced me to shoot you I have a better idea,
I'm not going to kill you because that would require mercy. I told Joffrey what
he died for while I watched him choke, I'll tell you the reason too. T he
reason has a name; Sansa Stark.”
Confusion scattered across his face until suddenly realisation dawned on Kaegan
and his breath quickened, Petyr was sure that if the younger man could have
spoken beyond a few muffled sounds he'd have said something along the lines of
oh shit! Maybe he'd have mumbled about being sorry and beg for Petyr not to
hurt him but Baelish didn't care. Kaegan Irelan, youngest son of Dittmann
Irelan was going to die... eventually.
“No one hurts what's mine.”Petyr all but growled into the mocha skinned man's
ear.
 Petyr stood straight and pulled Kaegan's left hand up and let the Kukri slash
the webbing between each digit. Tears welled in Kaegan's eyes and Petyr knew
this was only the start of the younger man discovering how Sansa felt for all
those years.
 “Sansa killed Joffrey, she needed to, but I have all this pent up rage inside.
I don't normally get angry and I may seem calm but that's far from the truth. I
need someone to take it out on and you're the next best option. You're going to
get the pain of two men, three actually if you count Duvall Hitachiin, which I
most assuredly do. I could use this Kukri on you but to be honest I only
brought it to scare you, it's much to beautiful and expensive to let you cover
it in your blood, plus I'm not actually going to kill you, Kaegan. But you'll
wish I had.”
 Kaegan's eyes rolled as far as they could to the left in order to keep Petyr
under observation as he rummaged in his back only to pull out a pair of latex
gloves, snapping them on, followed by a silver scalpel. Baelish returned and
started to cut away at Irelan's t-shirt, fabric roughly grating against the
blade. Next came the slashing to his other hand, the blood ran crimson and
brown eyes screamed in agony but not a word could he say; nothing but quiet,
pathetic little squeaks that Baelish didn't seem to even register.
“You don't look at what's mine.” Petyr said almost in a whisper and that
terrified Kaegan more than anything else, the fact his voice was so calm. “And
above all else you don't  fuckwhat's mine.”
 A muffled squeak escaped Kaegan's lips. Did that mean-? Petyr laughed.
“No. No, you'd start bleeding out if I took that off and I want you alive for a
while yet.” Petyr twirled the glistening scalpel in his hand. “Do you know how
we discovered what goes on inside us? How we found out what makes humans tick?
We cut our way into bodies and took a look for ourselves. What makes you tick,
I wonder.? Each time you decided to playwith Sansa she felt like a piece of her
was being torn away, I don't know how many of those scars you put on her but
I've had enough time to memorize every singe one.”
Kaegan's heart beat so hard that it vibrated through Petyr's blade  as he
pressed it to trembling mocha skin. Slashes were quick and deep enough to scar,
that was the whole point after all; to make Irelan know how his Sansa had felt
for all those years. Petyr had just wanted to rip him apart when he answered
the phone to Tannis, cut away his eyelids and open him up like some live
autopsy but the pain would be over too soon for Baelish's liking, letting him
live would be cruel beyond death. Crimson blood dripped from small but deep
cuts, each mark would disfigure him just like every cicatrix on Sansa's
beautiful body.  When he was done with Kaegan's chest Petyr used the large
Kukri blade to cut away Irelan's jeans and started on the legs. The younger
mocha skinned man was crying now, wet tears falling down his cheeks, if they
were caused by pain or regret Petyr neither new nor cared. It didn't matter if
Kaegan was sorry, it wouldn't change everything that had been done to Sansa.
 “Sansa was chained by the neck unable to move, her body was used as a fucking
canvas, she was raped so often that she has no idea how many times and she was
denied a voice.” Petyr ghosted his eyes over his handy work. “You can't move,
these will scar in time, we've already discussed castrating so what's missing?”
Petyr snapped his fingers in realisation. Kaegan watched helplessly as the
Cleaner went back to his duffel bag, fear ran through his blood at what awaited
him. Torturing someone was all very different when you became the victim.
“Denied a voice.” Petyr said with a slight smile. “I know you can only mumble
hopelessly at the moment but that's still too much noise, and we can't take the
change of you miraculously getting you voice back.”
Brown eyes were forced to watch as the blade returned to Kaegan's neck, pain
and blood leaking from the wound as Petyr cut away at his vocal cords, severing
them.  Words to describe the agony didn't exist and even if they had Kaegan
couldn't say them.
“Forgive me, I'm not an expert on this but a combination of the paralysis and
cut vocal cords should keep you from making a noise of any kind. Certainly no
words. You may be alive but you'll never live again. In in time, maybe a month,
a year, ten,you'll finally understand what it was like to be terrified under
Joffrey's bed with no one to help you. I haven't ripped any of you away though
have I? Let's take your tongue for good measure." 
Officer Kuznets stood outside the cell hoping his colleagues didn't wake up,
Tannis was an older man who'd never gone far in the policing world; too much of
a hot head. He also seemed to be void of any moral compass. There was no
screaming, no yelling for help, just muffled words of a man who called himself
a mockingbird but was really a devious fox. Tannis heard the cutting of fabric
and flesh though he tried not to, it rang in his ears and for and for a moment
he thought he'd gone too far, let Baelish go to far, but this sound was what
would get him paid. Everyone knew Baelish was dangerous but still they
underestimated him and the man in question seemed to like it that way. There
was a spluttering noise and the officer knew the Cleaner was almost done.
Tannis was nothing more than a desk officer and had only given Baelish
information up until that moment, but this? He'd not only given the Cleaner all
he needed to kill Kaegan Irelan but torture him as well. The older Officer
stood there for what felt like an eternity but was only a span of twenty
minutes at most listening to blood drip onto the floor.  How did Irelan make
Baelish so angry?  His mind asked, Petyr was normally such a calm and collected
man and though there was no screaming or violent stabbing Tannis could still
feel the rage in the air.
Tannis jumped when the door clicked and Petyr stepped out, he automatically
backed away from the younger dark-haired man with latex gloves coated in ruby
blood and holding a bullet that looked like it had been dug out of the wall.
Baelish pulled them off and tossed them into the bag over his shoulder with the
bullet wrapped up inside them.
“I wouldn't go in there if I were you.” Petyr warned. “I patched the bullet
wound up, but it will only last a short while. He needs a hospital.”
 “I thought you'd just shoot him! Why is he alive?” Tannis was confused.
“Calm yourself Tannis. Irelan is alive because I want him to suffer for years
ro come, he can't speak so don't worry. Now, I'm done here.”
 Baelish took his gun out again and pointed it at Tannis, he'd always favoured
the Colt Gold Cup Trophy with its skeleton trigger and inlaid engravings on the
flats.
“Shoot me in the leg, it'll bleed a lot.”
“No.”
“No?”
 “No. Tannis you'll be on the CCTV cameras turning them off, of course I'm
taking the tape but still. The door you let me in only opens from the inside, a
cop would have had to buzz me in. It's also going to be rather suspicious that
your friends wake up with cracking headaches and you have a bullet to the leg.
You're stupid too, you'll talk. Get a few drinks in you and you'll tell
Detective Sparrow himself everything.”
“So... so what are you going to do?” Tannis was almost in tears.
“I think you know. For what it's worth though, I am sorry but Sansa is more
important.”
BANG!
 Tannis fell to the floor dead. One shot to the head, it was quick and
painless, Tannis had aided him and didn't deserve a drawn out death. It was
Petyr's only choice, after the older man's stupid and ill though out actions.
Petyr could see why the Officer had never gone far, he couldn't keep a secret
and he'd not covered his tracks. He should have asked Sebastian to help him but
he was on a case in Braavos with Jefferson. Tannis didn't need to die, Petyr
could have sent him far away, but when it came to keeping Sansa safe Petyr
would kill his own sister if he had one.
Chapter End Notes
     I took Aidan's character from Black Out, Karl Madox, as inspiration
     for Petyr's murderous side since I can almost recite that movie.
     Also I'm just curious if anyone can guess the Aidan Gillen movie
     quote in this chapter. I'm not even going to tell you which movie
     it's from but I'll give you some clues. It's not from Black Out, it's
     set in England and Aidan spends a lot of time shirtless in this
     movie. :-)
***** Sins Do Not See Beyond Themselves *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Petyr sat in his car when he got back home for a very long time, cigarettes
were beginning to pile up outside his car window and the only noise other than
his music was wind dancing through the trees to a gentle waltz.
                     You got the look, but not the credit
                    They wrote the book, on how to sell it
                       From cigarettes, to skinny jeans
                     You got the money, they got the means
Petyr liked to sit in quiet peace sometimes, just him and his music. Kaegan's
attack would have been reported by now of that he had no doubt and the only
thing that concerned him was Sansa's reaction. She'd coped, hell enjoyed,
Joffrey's demise but what Petyr had done to Kaegan was rather different; his
girl was sensitive.
             All you upper class daughters, and working class sons
              It's hard to save a dollar, the way the world runs
                 You're the target market of a corporate joke
                It won't be so ironic when your daddy is broke
                     Surprise surprise, surprise surprise
              You're much better looking when you're in disguise
                     Surprise surprise, surprise surprise
                And this revolution has been brought to you by.
Petyr couldn't hide in his DBS forever though,  it smelt of those menthols
Teiichi smoked but that could be dealt with another day.  H e turned off his
music and walked to the front door clicked it open before slowly walking into
the living room. Sansa sat with Tristan in her lap and Lady by her feet staring
at the news with  an unreadable emotion  while Tyrion stood behind the couch
with his back to Petyr. Before he could clear his throat or even greet his girl
she was speaking.
“Did... did you do that Master?”
“Do what?” He tried to sound nonchalant.
 “Cut him? Take his tongue?.” She had difficultly reading the words from the
screen but got there in the end, Petyr was a little surprised the police had
let the reporters know about Kaegan's tongue.
“I think I'll take Tristan outside for an afternoon stroll.” Tyrion interjected
quickly before picking up the boy and taking him out through the glass doors
after flicking the television off; Lady followed.
“Tyrion, you're up.” Said Petyr as the blonde stepped out the patio doors,
Tyrion threw an  I knowover his shoulder.
Attention turned to the conversation at hand.
“Yes.” Petyr confessed. “Yes, I did all those things.”
“Why?” She didn't look at him. “Why like that?”
“You killed Joffrey, needed to. Me? Do you know how much I wanted to rip his
heart out with my bare hands for hurting you? Joffrey is dead, I couldn't kill
him. All that rage turned to Irelan, he hurt you too. However, he forced me to
shoot him and I decided it would be better if he suffered through the rest of
his life knowing how you were forced to live yours. I really didn't want to
upset you, baby girl. I'm sorry.”
Then something strange happened, something that the ever plotting mind of Petyr
Baelish didn't see comeing, Sansa shot up from the couch and threw her arms
around him, gripping him tight.
“What's this for?” He asked with a grin, arms slipping around her slender
waist.
“... For caring.”
 Petyr just clung to her and breathed his girl in, eyes flickering shut. She
smelt of coconut and something that was uniquely Sansa Stark.
 “My baby girl. My Sweetling.” He muttered into her hair, she was about an inch
shorter than him when she didn't have shoes on.
“Yours, Master.”
Oh his ego liked that, more than it should have. Petyr should have been holding
her softly and with care but instead his eyes had darkened with want. Petyr
knew that it was wrong to want to  own  her but he couldn't bring himself to
care, and he could own the girl without her being a slave couldn't he? This was
Sansa's choice, to give herself to someone she wanted to be with.
“Say that again?” He almost pleaded.
“Yours, Master.” She repeated for his pleasure. Sansa knew those words should
have scared her but they didn't, instead and sorrow she felt loved and cared
for. 
She heard him mumbled my girlbefore pressing his lips to hers and guiding her
through the room and over to the couch, lowering her down softly. Sansa had
never had anyone care and protect her like he did and Petyr had never feltas
much as he did for Sansa. That picture in his head of himself as CEO of Lion
and Stag had changed, now she was by his side and Petyr would do anything to
make that picture a reality.
Sansa  smiled and bit her lip, he doubted she knew just how seductive that
looked. Petyr  smiled into the kiss, ghosting his hands over her breasts. She
moaned at the teasing contact, banished were the horrors of her past. Teeth set
about nipping at her neck, softly marking her as his own. It made her feel
wanted and loved, not a plaything that had been handed around . His hands found
the top of her lilac panties underneath her skirt, Petyr  pulled them down and
off slowly before casting them to the ground. Baelish  savour ed the feeling of
their dampness . Attention turned back to the her peach blouse and the way her
breasts peaked out the top of the few open buttons; small and round like a
tear. Pet yr wasted no time kissing her small mounds through the fabric tugging
moan after bliss filled moan from her lips. Little murmurs of bliss escaped her
lips and though they were breathed into his ear she still seemed far, far away.
Fingers nimbly opened the small pearl like buttons and cast it to the floor
with her panties, soon her black bra followed. Kisses where quickly pressed to
the exposed silky skin and Sansa  dug her nails into his shoulders as she
pulled him closer to her; she wouldn't live in fear any longer, she wanted her
Master and that was just what she was going to get. Her Master  took a nipple
into his mouth sucking lightly on the bud calling it back to full attention,
his other hand coming up to giver her other breast the same treatment.
Everything in that moment was perfect, she wasn't afraid of him or what he'd
done and that made Petyr want to fuck her even more.
“I want you, Sweetling. Do you want me?”
As if to answer Sansa pushed her hips up to meet his hard length still confined
in his suit pants and one of them gasped, they didn't know who and to be honest
neither much cared. Sansa's hands slipped from his shoulders and found their
way to his belt, pulling it open and slipping her hand inside. There was a
sharp intake of breath and then Petyr went back to teasing her breast, his girl
smiled as she stated to stroke his length. Baelish didn't think it was possible
but he grew harder. As he reclaimed her mouth Sansa helped him shimmy from his
pants and boxers giving her better access to the hardened member. She pumped
him slowly as his kisses dropped down her body and eventually he pulled back
and with one final kiss pulled his shirt off and then tugged her black flounce
skirt away leaving them both naked as the day they were born. Petyr gazed at
his girl.
“Beautiful.”
She knew he meant it. Petyr pushed her thighs apart and kissed them in turn,
moving ever closer to the place she wanted him more than anything to kiss. When
he did she gasped and plunged her hands into his greying hair, keeping him in
place, it was no secret that her Master liked Sansa to grip his hair when he
used his mouth on her. His tongue lapped at her folds, he was amazed at how wet
she was for him, her hands tightened a little as his tongue circled her clit.
“Oh Master!” She all but screamed.
He kissed that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over making her scream
louder and louder for him, then he slipped a finger inside her. Her grip on his
hair became vice like but it only spurred him on as she moaned. Another finger
slipped in and he crocked them as he kissed her clit. It didn't take long for
Sansa to start pushing back on his fingers, she was close and he knew that and
so he slipped in a third finger. After a few moments of careful thrusting she
screamed out his name wrapping her legs around his head. Petyr made sure to
keep the movement going throughout her orgasm until she was left panting, her
eyes closed. Sex had once held nothing but fear, now it was pure pleasure.
Petyr's fingers slipped from her and she mourned the loss as he clambered back
up to kiss her, she could taste herself on him. When the kiss broke Petyr
smiled a true smile at the sight of Sansa's lips glistening with her own
juices, his hard member pulsing and twitching at the way her tongue licked her
bottom lip. If he got his way she would look like that all the time.
“Please, I need you.”
Sansa's hips rose to meet his again and it was then that he realized he was on
top of her, all the times they had sex she had been on top to keep away the
horrors of her life and so Petyr made to sit them up so she could straddle his
lap but his girl pulled him back. Petyr was confused.
“Sweetling?” She cut him off.
“I'm not afraid any more Master. I know you won't hurt me.”
“Are you sure?”
The last thing he wanted was to force her memories back to what Joffrey and God
only knew how many other men had done. Her answer was however, clear when she
wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer. Petyr and his ego
needed no other encouragement but he did feel the need to reassure her.
“If you need me to stop just say so.”
Sansa responded by using her feet to pull him even closer, Petyr just smiled.
With one sharp but far from painful thrust he filled her to the hilt, he
stilled for a moment letting her adjust to his size. This was a big step for
his girl and Baelish wanted it to last.
“Move.” She begged and demanded all at once. She was so brave and perfect.
Petyr quickly obliged pulling almost all the way out only to slam back in.
Sansa dragged him down for a kiss but moaned into it when his hand returned to
her wet sex. It didn't take long to have his girl moaning and meeting his
thrusts. A perfect rhythm; delicate but overflowing with heated passion. The
redhead's tongue made its way into Petyr's mouth experimentally as they became
one, mapping his mouth, taking her tongue across his teeth causing his thrusts
to become erratic for a second or two. Sansa was dangling on the very edge with
her Master not far behind her, she wiggled her hips in just the right way,
teasingly, and send him into some kind of rut, thrusting like his life depended
on it. It was then that Sansa grew brave and dared to do something she'd never
expected of herself, she chose to flip them - which was a little hard on the
couch - not because she was scared but because she had grown to like being on
top. Petyr's fingers gripped her hips leaving tiny little bruises that she
actually cherished over her skin, pushing herself down onto him, impaling
herself. Sansa leaned down to kiss him again, gasping at the new angle and the
way her kissed nipples grazed against his chest.
Sansa could take it no longer and came... hard. Seconds later Petyr moaned out
her name and tumbled over the edge too.
Chapter End Notes
     Lyrics used are Surprise Surprise by Billy Talent.
***** Life Is A Brief Intermission *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning for Non-Con (nothing to do with Sansa though)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Ten-thirty in the morning signalled the start of Joffrey's funeral, Cersei
stood in the centre of the crowd crying and dressed all in black, Tywin on her
left looking as though he'd rather be at the office and Jaime on her right
gripping her hand tightly. Tommen stood beside his Uncle Jaime with Myrcella,
and Petyr wasn't entirely sure if the younger Baratheon boy was sad at his
brother's passing or relieved; maybe it was both. Petyr had taken up residence
on the opposite side of the casket with the rest of the executives, many of who
wore expression much like Tywin's own. There was one Lannister missing though,
Tyrion, but Petyr knew he wasn't far away, Tyrion wasn't there to pay his
respects to Joffrey but rather to see Tommen and Myrcella. He loved those
children, they were sweet and pure unlike the rest of his family.
Petyr internally smiled through the whole service but the exterior remained
rather sympathetic while the High Septon prattled on about The Seven and a load
of other nonsense Petyr didn't much care for. No one said a word or even
coughed, though he doubted anyone beside Cersei and Jaime actually wanted to
attend the funeral. By now Detective Sparrow had determined the lioness was
involved with his prime suspect's sudden spell of paralysis but there was no
evidence, Petyr had made certain of that. Unfortunately protecting himself
meant protecting Cersei Lannister.
Just when Baelish thought he was going to die of boredom the body was lowered
and the High Septon finally shut up. Everyone proceeded to offer Cersei and her
remaining children their condolences before making a quick exit, Varys was
behind him and Pycelle in front; the old man muttered on for a good ten minutes
before Tywin finally couldn't take it any more and got rid of the old man.
Petyr's turn.
“I'm sorry for your loss, Cersei.” He said with fake compassion.
“Thank you.” She responded as they went through the standard kiss the grieving
mother's cheek and pretend you give a damnroutine. “I wanted who did this dead,
Baelish. But now I think I like what you did more.”
“I'm glad you approve.” He flashed her a half smile.
“It was stupid and reckless.” Tywin butted into the conversation with a
disapproving tone. “Then again thinking things through has never been your
strong point, Cersei.” He turned to Petyr. “I must say though, Baelish. You
know how to cover her ass.”
I don't want anything to do with her ass unless I'm kicking it. His mind
muttered.
“That's why you hired me. I'll leave you to your grieving.”
“What about Vaith?” The older man asked, stopping the shorter man with hair
like ash and smoke in his tracks.
“We took over yesterday afternoon, it hit newspapers this morning. Everything
went smoothly, I sent a copy of the report to your assistant, it should be on
your desk waiting for your return.”
“Can we not talk about the company at my son's funeral?” Cersei growled.
“Of course, again you have my condolences.”
Petyr inconspicuously picked up Tyrion and left.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
Ramsay had only gone to the funeral of Joffrey Baratheon to make sure he was
actually dead. He wouldn't have put it passed Joffrey to jump out of his coffin
yelling surprise,Joffrey had a stupid sense of humour like that. However, he
really was dead and there was only Baelish to deal with. Baelish wanted Lion
and Stag for himself, that was clear enough but taking hisslave was going too
far. Ramsay had pushed away his grimace and offered his sympathies to Cersei
like everybody else. Bolton watched Jaime hover around his sister as she held
in tears for her son, they looked like the perfect sorrow filled couple, if the
rumours were to be believed then they were.
Everyone at that funeral doubted Jaime would stay in King's Landing long, he'd
be off to act as CEO to Vaith Incorporated as soon as Tywin could book him a
ticket to Dorne. Jaime Lannister didn't concern him though, a lack of Kaegan
Irelan did, Joffrey had only had three people that could have been considered
friends,and that was at a great push. Ramsay himself, Duvall Hitachiin who was
long dead, and Kaegan. Ramsay knew Kaegan had been an utter moron but he
wouldn't have killed Joffrey, it served him no purpose, in fact it would have
made his life harder. Ramsay would figure out who killed the both of them soon
enough, he liked a good puzzle and already had suspicions.
After the funeral Ramsay drove home and as soon as he was in the house the
dark-haired man tore off his tie and shirt, letting them drop to the freshly
cleaned floor in a messy pile.
“Reek!” He called. “Reek get out here!”
An auburn haired man appeared from the kitchen his cheeks had scuffs of dirt on
them and his clothes were more like old rags than real clothing, there were
bruises peeking out from his sleeves and neckline; some days old others weeks.
Reek's eyes were downcast in submission to his Master as usual, daring not to
look up as Ramsay crashed down onto the black leather couch, resting his arms
along the back of it.
“Yes, Master?” He asked cautiously with a shaky voice.
Ramsay's mood could change as easily as a switch could be flipped. No one liked
Ramsay Bolton when he turned the lights off, plunging his victims into the
darkness and leaving them to his mercy.
“I'm bored, come entertain me.” The or elsein his tone was clear.
“I'm making your lunch, Master. I-”
“Do I look like I give a shit to you, Reek?” The dark-haired mad man clicked
his belt open. “You know what happens when you disobey me. I already took your
cock off, don't make me take your nose too. I don't want to ruin such a pretty
face.” Reek was flashed a grin. “Now, why don't you put that mouth to some good
use?”
Ramsay parted his legs to make room for his slave. He wasn’t really into men,
that was why he wanted Joffrey's whore, but he got off on the tortured look in
Reek's eyes as he took Ramsay into his mouth. He liked to remind the former
Greyjoy that he would never again feel lips close around his cock. Ramsay
grinned ear to ear as he watched Reek drop to his knees before his Master and
remove him from the confines of his pants, such a wonderful air of self-
loathing and disgust.
“Come on, Reek. Show me what that mouth of yours can do.” The Master encouraged
his pet with a sickening tone.
After a deep breath Reek took Ramsay into his mouth as he had several times
before. He sucked hard, Ramsay liked it that way, and cradled his Master with
one hand. A small tear escaped from his pale green eyes and ran down his cheek,
the former Greyjoy's jaw ached but he couldn't stop, if he stopped before
Ramsay came there would be hell to pay and he wasn't willing to risk that.
“Good boy, Reek.” Ramsay moaned as he thrust deep into Theon's mouth. “How
would you like a friend? Hmm? A pretty young slut to help you with your chores?
You could take it in turns to have my cock in your mouth.” Ramsay giggled
sickly. “Or would sharing me like that make you jealous?” Ramsay's breaths were
coming in pants, he was close. “Whore like you... bet you'd be... jealous.”
The mad man gripped his curly auburn-red hair and thrust so deep that Reek
nearly choked, Reek just knelt there perfectly sill waiting until Ramsay was
done rutting into his mouth, tears ran freely down his red cheeks and it was
hard for his lungs to get any air. Suddenly and without warning Ramsay came and
Reek did his best to swallow the sticky seed down, he only got beaten if he
didn't.
“How about I make her bloody when she gets here and you clean her up?” He asked
while panting from his height, the hand he had fisted in Reek's hair loosened
and let the former Greyjoy fall back a bit. “Team work. If you're a good boy
I'll let you lick the taste of her cunt from my cock.”
The former heir to The Iron Isle Shipping companypulled needed oxygen into his
lungs as Ramsay stuffed his softened length back into his pants and closed his
belt, the whole time he kept his eyes on his pet.
“Did you swallow all of that?”
“Yes, Master.”
“You ate without me, I should punish you for that. I'm hungry though, bring me
something to eat.” Ramsay ordered dismissively.
Reek pushed himself up on shaky legs and wiping tears from his eyes before they
offended his Master. He hadn't gotten four steps when Ramsay stopped him.
“Oh and Reek, do it naked. I like the way every bit of you that's not bruised
turns red.”
“Yes, Master.”
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
Jaime sat beside his sister on her bed as she cried into her arms over the loss
of their son, Jaime was the only one she'd let see her weak. Her face was red
and her head ached from having shed so many tears, her body shook and the only
warmth left in her body was what came from her brother, Jaime wept too but much
more softly, Cersei made a show of everything she did while Jaime was much more
subtle; he had a kinder heart too. The bed was made up of rich gold sheets
blotted with tears while the walls were a deep red that made the room warm,
their family colors and the ones of Lion and Stag; though none of that seemed
important as Jaime held his sister.
“You can't go.” She sobbed into his chest muffling her words. “You only just
came back!”
“I know. I know.” He tried to comfort Cersei by rubbing small circles on her
back but it seemed to have no effect. “You know what our father is like though,
he always gets his way.” Jaime said solemnly.
“Joffrey is dead. We only buried our son this morning. “What about Tommen and
Myrcella?”
“Sister, he was my son too. I want to stay, I practically begged father to let
me stay a few weeks but he's not having it. Myrcella is stronger and wiser
thank you think and Tommen? Tommen just wants his family to stop yelling at one
another.”
Cersei seemed to ignore everything Jaime had just said, sometimes the blonde
man wondered why he bothered, and Jaime certainly wasn't going to tell his
easily angered sister that he actually missed Brienne. She worked for an
interdependent security firm that had headquarters in Tarth, they'd met a few
times over the years but only recently had they become friends when Tywin hired
her company to aid Jaime at Vaith Incorporated in Dorne. Jaime felt something
for Brienne but he wasn't sure what it was exactly.
“I don't want you to go.” Cersei's words pulled her brother back from his
thoughts of Brienne. “Stay.”
“I can't.” He said simply, no one disobeyed Tywin Lannister not even his own
son. “Baelish knows what he's doing, it will all be done with soon enough and
then you can have me back.”
“Littlefinger is the only hope I have of you coming back to be some time before
winter?” She was angry again and Jaime realised all his words of comfort had
backfired. “He's a dubious little rat who wants nothing more that to destroy
everything our father built!”
“But you can't deny that Baelish is good at his job, all of them. It seems
snapping necks and cashing cheques is what that man does.” Jaime laughed.
“Shut up! Stop making jokes, and I don't want to talk about Littlefinger.” She
sighed and tried to calm herself. “Just hold me, Jaime.”
Jaime did just that.
Chapter End Notes
     And there's Reek/Theon for everyone whose be waiting for me to finish
     tagging this story.
***** Twilight Tears *****
 
The sun was going down in a mix of oranges, yellows and deep reds when Petyr
pulled into his driveway, it looked like the day had given up and gone to bed
much like Petyr wanted to, he'd spent the morning at The Mockingbird going over
orders and basically keeping everything in working order while Tyrion played
with Ros upstairs. However, when lunch had rolled around Littlefinger had taken
the blonde back to his house and left him there to be growled at by Lady. Sansa
had offered to make him lunch and Petyr had been desperate to take his girl up
on the offer but alas Lion and Stag called so with a sorrow filled expression
and a gentle kiss to her perfect lips he'd declined her inviting offer. Tywin
had packed Jaime back off to Dorne and taken the CEO throne away from Petyr,
much to his dismay, the Lannister patriarch thought this was a joke but all it
had done was make Baelish more determined to have it. He hadn’t seen Cersei in
a few days and Detective Sparrow seemed to be getting nowhere on who had
attacked his suspect, in the end the courts didn't seem to care and would be
trying a voiceless and paralysed Kaegan Irelan in the next few weeks, with so
much evidence they had a case even if Kaegan didn't have a voice. Petyr
couldn't help but notice that the entire Irelan family were staying well away
from the case; no one blamed them for that.
 With night quickly taking over the sky Petyr slipped inside his home and came
to an instant halt before he'd even shut the door behind him. He could hear
Sansa's muffled cries from upstairs in her room and found Tyrion stood at the
bottom of the stairs popping a painkiller with one hand while the other held
his head.
 “Oh thank the Gods your back!” Tyrion sounded drained as he walked towards the
dark-haired man. “It's about fucking time.” Petyr opened his mouth to speak but
shut it again when Tyrion got there first. “Sansa has been crying for an hour
and Lady won't let me anywhere near her bedroom to find out what upset her. I
have a headache the size of Dorne and you're out of wine.”
 “If you stopped drinking so much I'd still have wine and you wouldn't have a
headache.” Petyr deadpanned.
“I haven't been sober since I was seventeen, this headache is a result of her
sobbing for the last hour. Just make her stop.” Tyrion pleaded. “Tears from
teenage girls are not my department.”
 Petyr sighed, he wanted Tyrion gone from his home so it was just him and Sansa
again but Tyrion couldn't strike too soon after Joffrey's death, that was how
he'd ended up spent two months hiding out in Petyr's home. It was a waiting
game. He trudged up the spiralling staircase until he had to look over the
railing to make sure the Lannister had wandered off, the man with moss colored
eyes made his way to the very end of the hall where Sansa's bedroom was, it
shared a wall with his own room and had a small balcony for her to sit and
stare out at the ocean from. Lady was right where Tyrion said she'd be guarding
the door like some kind of solider, she growled when he came into view. Though
Sansa was her best friend and the one she was there to protect Lady knew he was
the Master and quickly quieted when he snapped his fingers in a gesture to sit
at his feet.
 “Lady, sit!” The large Wolfdog obeyed him and let Petyr push the bedroom door
open.
 All the lights were off and so he walked over to the night stand and flicked
her bedside lamp on, it illuminated the room with an artificial glow and
revealed Sansa face down with her head buried in the pillows crying.
 “Sweetling, what's wrong?” Petyr asked as he sat down on the edge of her bed.
There was no response beyond more tears. “Baby girl, please tell me-”
 Suddenly Sansa shot up onto her knees and wrapped her arms around him in a
tight embrace, it caught him off guard for a second but once his mind had
caught up he pulled the girl into his lap and held her.
“Make him stop saying that.” She begged and hiccupped against his neck.
 “What has Tyrion said?”
 If that bloody blonde had made his girl cry Tyrion would find his ass being
handed to him.
“Not him.” She cried. “Tristan!”
“He started speaking?”
 The boy was eleven months old, to be honest Petyr was surprised he hadn't
started to talk a while ago. Petyr turned his head to the dark couch that was
pressed up against the wall beside the balcony doors, Sansa had built what
could only be described as a pillow fort for Tristan to lie in, she only set
him there when she was doing something; he slept with her in the bed.
 Petyr gently shuffled Sansa to sit on her bed and took her arms from around
his neck. He went to the boy who was playing with a toy sheep that had been in
the baby bag they took from his mother, Tristan seemed happy enough as Petyr
picked him up and went back to the bed.
“What did Tristan say?”
 She didn't answer, just wiped tears from her cheeks, whatever it was Sansa
didn't want to say it so he pushed the baby towards her hoping the child would
tell him instead.
 “Mama!” The boy beamed and reached for the redhead. Sansa suddenly burst into
tears again.
 “Oh...” Petyr didn't know what to say to that.
 “Please make him stop, Master.” Her face was red and wet. “Please.”
As much as he enjoyed hearing the words please Mastercome out of her mouth, the
situation had grown awkward. Petyr hadn't wanted her to grow too attached to
the child and yet it seemed Tristan had been the one to grow attached, he'd
chosen Sansa as his Mama.He didn't blame the boy, who would want to stay with
Sansa? This had to stop though, before it grew any worse.
“That's it. He's going to a hospital. The reason we can't find the Grandmother
is most likely because she's dead. He's going. Tristan is only upsetting you.”
 Petyr had made a decision, put his foot down. Sansa continued to sob but it
was slower than before.
 “I don't want him to go, Master. Don't want him to be alone.” She muttered.
“But you don't want him here.”
 The last bit was said to herself, so quietly that Petyr had to strain to hear
it, but hear it he did. Baelish sighed and slipped the eleven month old into
his girl's arms so he could stand up from the twilight coated bed.
 “Come on and dry your eyes, Sweetling. We'll take him to the hospital and
he'll get a new family, Tristan will be happy. That's what you want right?”
“Yes.” The word was so small.
“Good.”
 With a little encouragement Petyr managed to get Sansa into the car with
Tristan, she held him close and petted his dark hair, while he occupied Lady
with the task of watching Tyrion; the blonde didn't look too pleased but he
went wordlessly back to his book.
 Sansa didn't speak a word on their drive, only sniffled with the remains of
her tears that refused to leave her, Petyr didn't try to force her into
conversation because he knew it would do no good and he had no idea what to say
to her; it wasn't often that he was lost for words but this had certainly done
it. On the one hand he was happy to remove the child from his home but on the
other hand he was going to break Sansa's heart. Rain tumbled from the heavens
as Baelish drove along the many streets of King's Landing towards the hospital,
sheets of water crashed against the windscreen violently and so fast that Petyr
could hardly see despite the wipers being on full speed; he hadn't even noticed
it raining until they'd stepped out the front foor. Tristan's little fingers
clung to Sansa's yellow blouse as he dozed and though he would never admit it,
the Cleaner thought it looked adorable.
 When the grey Aston Martin finally came to a halt Sansa and her Master just
sat there for a few minutes listening to the rain and Tristan's soft breaths
against her chest, but it was over all too soon.
 “Alright, Sweetling.” He said turning to face her, voice muffled slightly by
thick rain. “Say goodbye to him.” Petyr tried to keep his voice soft and
understanding for her sake.
 The redhead pulled the boy closer and held him tight, tears started to drip
along her cheeks once more in silent protest and kissed his soft black locks.
Sansa didn't want to let Tristan go but her Master had made a decision and she
wouldn't interfere with his plans, it was better this way, Tristan would have a
real family. She pressed a kiss to his head once more.
 “Goodbye Tristan.” She gave him one last squeeze and then handed him over to
Petyr.
“Do you want to come with me?” He asked.
“No.”
 He didn't think she'd want to but Petyr had decided to ask anyway. If Tristan
had been another dog or a toy he'd have let her keep him in a heartbeat but
Tristan was a child, he needed a family not a manipulative brothel owner who
kept an eighteen year old in his house that called him  Master with every other
sentence. The boy was young, he'd forget all about Sansa and Petyr in time.
 Petyr stepped outside the car and into the pouring rain, he wrapped his coat
around the boy to keep him dry and pulled his hood up over head to hide his
face as he walked through the gargantuan parking lot towards the ER, he was
three cars away before the sound of rain muffled Sansa's crying enough that he
couldn't hear it. Tristan didn't make a sound as Baelish carried him, in fact
he seemed to actually like it, Petyr's chest was warmer than Sansa's had been
and he wasn't crying so the boy could rest easily against his strong chest. The
night was inky and dark but the neon lights of the ER revealed just how busy
the place was, the Cleaner guessed it was due to the car pile up that had
happened about an hour previous; the entire street had been shut off and Petyr
had to go all the way round to get home. Nurses rushed around going this way
and that while patients sat in the waiting area and more seriously injured
people rested on gurneys waiting for real beds. Orderlies moved quickly trying
to get control of the chaos and make things easier on the doctors and nurses
but ot had little effect.
 Tristan's nails dug into Petyr's chest in fear, it was all too noisy and
bright, but much to Baelish's pleasure he didn't cry or start screaming for
Sansa. The boy was afraid but he would only be like that for a short time, it
wouldn't take more than a few minutes for a nurse or orderly to spot him; even
in this chaos. Petyr calmly walked to the nurses station to find it vacant, a
nurses station never stayed empty for long. He set the boy down on the desk
away form the edge so he didn't fall and hurt himself in the brief time he was
unattended, it took a moment but Petyr managed to prise his shirt from
Tristan's grip,  I think I need a fucking crowbar!
“Bye Tristan.”
 He said softly and ruffled the boy's dark baby soft locks and then started to
walk away. The boy was no more, Petyr was free and only had Tyrion left to deal
with before he had his house to himself again, just him and Sansa. Peace and
quiet would be restored.
 
“Dada!”
***** Don't Think Of What There Is To Lose, Think Of What There Is To Gain
*****
 Sansa continued to cry in the car and from the way the rain came down heavier
from the heavens she wondered if   the Gods wer e sobbing with her.   Fire hung
around her face like a shroud, bits of which were damp and stuck to her cheeks,
Sansa's blue eyes were puffy and raw from having her palms pressed to them; her
head had started to ache.    She knew it was best for Tristan and that her
Master made the rules, he didn't like children and had already been good enough
to let Lady and Sansa stay with him; Tyrion too.    On top of everything Sansa
wouldn't have made a good mother, her own had been murdered at the age of eight
and Joffrey had always told her she was useless at everything so why would
raising a child be any different? Just because she would make a horrible mother
didn't mean she was in any less pain, there was an emotion inside her that she
only felt for Tristan; it was so similar to what she felt for Master but at the
same time entirely different. Sansa had no name for it, but it swelled in her
heart each time she looked at him and tore it apart when he was gone.    She
tried to force away the sting in her heart, the redhead could hear Joffrey
telling her not to be so greedy, she still had her Master who was a more noble
man than he liked to make out and her best friend Lady.
 Suddenly her car door opened with a force that nearly pulled her out the Aston
onto the cold wet tarmac and her Master shoved Tristan into her arms.
“Here, keep him.” He said quickly before slamming the door shut again.
 Sansa clung to the eleven month old like he was a lifeline or would somehow
fade away to nothingness. She didn't dare say anything as Petyr started the
engine and drove through the night back home and nor did he, his seafoam eyes
stared straight ahead but his brow was set in a way that suggested he'd
realised something; Sansa wanted to ask what that was but couldn't break the
silence in case he was angry. Tristan gripped her yellow blouse again as though
it was his rightful place and just settled back off to sleep like nothing had
ever happened, Master had been so set on getting rid of the boy so why had he
brought Tristan back? Petyr drove faster than was probably safe in such a
rainstorm but his mind was racing, Sansa opened her mouth to ask him to slow
down but quickly shut it again; couldn't bring herself to say a single word to
him. She wanted to know what had changed his mind, was it possible that he felt
for the boy the way Sansa did? The redhead doubted it but anything was possible
with Petyr Baelish.
 Finally the car pulled up outside his large home and the engines purr was
silenced, as soon as Sansa stepped foot in the building she muttered something
about taking Tristan to bed and headed up the stairs out of sight.    Time
seemed to slow for a while and the whole house remained silent, Lady didn't
bark, Tyrion didn't laugh at whatever joke he'd just come up with, nothing. She
lay on her side in the darkened room holding a sleeping Tristan while listening
to the rain, her Master found it comforting but it still scared her a little,
Sansa was growing to understand why he liked it though, there was something
almost musical about it.   Something soothing.
 Just as her mind fell silent and Sansa started to drift off into the world of
sleep    the bedroom door clicked open bidding her Master entrance. Azure eyes
remained closed as she listened to him take off his shirt, pants and shoes then
the bed dipped as he climbed in beside her, an arm slid around Sansa's waist.
There was silence for a long time, Petyr didn't seem to want to talk and Sansa
was still searching for the courage to broach the subject. His warmth gave her
that courage though, his care did.
“Master, why did you bring him back?” Her voice was small and timid.
He pulled her by her waist pressing his chest to her back and pressed a kiss to
the sensitive spot just behind her ear before he even thought of answering her
question.
 “If Hoster Tully hadn't have taken me in when I was a child I'd have had
nothing. Never would have had the chance to become who I am now    and I rather
like who I am.” Sansa wasn't sure where he was going with this but she let him
speak .  “Tristan has decided that you're his mother and apparently am his
father.”   He laughed darkly against her neck. “I rather like the idea of
having a mini Baelish to mould in my image, I hadn't thought of that until
tonight. Once I have taken everything I don't just want to die and let them
have it all back, if I let you keep him and give him my name then it will
always belong to us and not them.”
 Sansa suspected there was more to that story but she wasn't going to ask,
after so long of just wanting the boy gone there had to be, they were keeping
Tristan and that was all she wanted so Sansa wouldn't question further. She
just let herself fall off to sleep with Tristan in her arms and Petyr holding
onto her.
 Baelish didn't find sleep as quickly though, he lay awake for hours listening
to the rain and thinking about what keeping the boy mean and the other reason's
Petyr had decided Tristan could not only stay but would be their son. Petyr had
been won over so quickly by Sansa because she was like him, and by Lady because
she made Sansa happy but Tristan had made him realise that he was lonely. He'd
never noticed he was lonely before not until that second with his back to the
boy who called him  Dada , he'd always thought families were overrated, caused
interference but now that he has Sansa and Tristan he saw that if they weren't
there he'd be back to practically sleeping in his offices because there was no
reason to go home. Originally he'd liked it that way but now he wasn't so sure.
Sansa had brought him closer to taking Lion and Stag Enterprises in less than a
year than his own carefully crafted plan and Tristan could carry on his name
almost like a legacy. He'd focused so much on getting the power that he'd not
thought of what would happen once he got it. Maybe family wasn't just a
weakness but a strength like Catelyn had always told him. He didn't like
children but Tristan wouldn't be a child forever and he was certain he could
learn to like the boy as he had with Lady.
 First things first though, if they were to keep the boy as a method of keeping
the power he took - yes Petyr was going to keep telling himself that - hen
Petyr was going to have to change his birth records, it would be easy enough to
do that thanks to his little helper in the office of births, marriages and
deaths. No more Thorin Marx, son of Korbin Marx and Leontine Yvaine, he'd be
Tristan Baelish. Yes, for his plan and legacy Petyr Baelish was willing to
become a father.
The things he did for power...
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
 Two days had passed since Petyr had decided Sansa could keep Tristan and it
had to be said, his girl seemed happier. Summer had turned to fall letting
leaves tumbled to the floor and turn a burnt yellow that seemed even more
tranquil than the bold colors of summer, fall suited Sansa, it matched her hair
but he couldn't wait to see what winter brought; the snow against fiery red
hair would be exquisite.
 The Cleaner sat in his home office staring at his laptop, his charcoal suit
jacket hung off the back of his chair and his sleeves were rolled up revealing
his tattooed arm and the void that waited to be filled; his plum purple shirt
was open at the collar contrasting with his hair of smoke and ash. He'd been
sat in silence for a time just thinking about what giving Tristan his name
meant, he would have a legacy to keep the name Baelish going but he'd also have
a responsibility to his  son. Petyr was pulled back from his internal monologue
by a tiny knock on is large office door before it swung open revealing his girl
in a black skirt with a black and white striped Henley top, her feet were bare
as usual and her copper hair framed her face beautifully. Petyr was thankful
that her scars had started to fade, they would never be gone but thanks to a
healthy diet and sunlight they were much less noticeable; which gave Sansa a
boost of confidence.
“Master, shouldn't you be at Lion and Stag?” She asked.
 Normally he'd tell her if he was staying at home but Petyr had been so lost in
thoughts of plotting that he'd forgotten.
“No.” He answered. “I took the day off, said something came up. It there's an
emergency Gwendolyn will call for me, I'll ride in just when everyone thinks
the battle is lost and save the day.”
 Sansa laughed at that, he could always make her smile. She liked the days he
stayed home because it meant she got to be with her Master,  is that being
greedy? Sansa didn't much care, her Master was her everything; he took her from
the dark and gave her light.
“Would you like me to make you a late breakfast?” His girl asked as she stepped
further into the room.
 “Thank you, baby girl, but I'm not hungry.” Petyr's attention went back to his
laptop as he started to type.
 Sansa was a little upset at that, she liked to show him what she'd learnt,
once she'd taught herself how to make pancakes and Petyr had acted as though
she'd discovered the cure for cancer; the redhead knew he only did it to make
her happy. She could see he was busy though and with how hard he worked Sansa
didn't want to interrupt, she made for the door but his voice halted her in her
bare-footed tracks.
“Sweetling, wait. Come here.”
 Petyr pushed his large chair out from the desk a bit so she had space to take
her usual place on his knee, he smelt of mint and was warm to the touch, Sansa
had come to find that comforting. Automatically the girl cuddled into his
chest, the arm coated in tattoos snaked around her waist keeping her from
slipping off and pulled her close. He could smell the coconut from her shampoo
and had to hold back a moan.  Gods she's perfect.
 “What's that, Master?” Sansa asked in a curious tone while gesturing towards
the laptop screen.
“If we're going to keep Tristan he needs to have a birth record that says he's
ours. This is the original one for Thorin Marx, all we need to do is change his
name and parent information. Would you like to help?”
 Sansa nodded and straightened herself up in his lap ever so slightly so she
could see the screen better, Petyr was pleased with her enthusiasm; she'd gone
from a broken and bruised slave to his brave and beautiful girl. He pressed a
kiss to her temple. The redhead looked at the birth certificate waiting to be
edited, it was an off-white with a simple black border, at the top was a large
symbol that looked like some sort of sun surrounded by metal bands or maybe an
atom without the electrons circulating it. Under the symbol in an almost
scripture like font were the words  Birth Certificate and under that were
several lines of text that Petyr had already deleted.
 “Okay, first we need to replace Korbin Marx with yours truly.” Sansa watched
as he typed one-handed, filling in his full name and place of birth, Sansa
smiled a little remembering that day on the beach when he taught her to swim
and told her about his home, a little bit about his home anyway.  That was a
good day, she thought. “And the mother needs to be you.” He looked at his girl
with a smile, one day he'd see those blue eyes again. “Do you want to show off
your spelling talent for me and type your name and where you were born? Your
Alayne Stone name though.” The world couldn't know Sansa Stark was alive.
 It was silly but Petyr took every opportunity he could to encourage Sansa with
her writing. Slowly Sansa leaned in and typed her other name on the line he'd
indicated, he was humouring her but it made Sansa feel intelligent and valued.
 “Good girl.” He praised with another soft kiss to her temple, Sansa soaked up
the care in his voice. “Now, his name needs to be Baelish not Marx.” Petyr
typed as he spoke. “And you named him Tristan. Do you want to give him a middle
name?”
“A middle name?”
“Yeah, this says he doesn't have one but we can add one in if you'd like, your
choice.”
“I don't know, Master. I don't have one.”
“Yes you do.” He said slowly. “It's Minisa.Your mother named you after her own
mother.”
 Sansa grinned at that little bit on knowledge, each day she discovered
something new about herself. The faces of her parents and siblings were even
starting to return since Petyr had given the photo album back, just another
step towards the full return of Sansa Stark, or Sansa Minisa Stark it seemed.
In this case though it would have to be Alayne Minisa Stone.
“What's yours, Master?”
There was a pause.
“... It's Amyas.”
 “I like that.” Sansa meant it, the name sounded nice on her tongue and it
suited Petyr. An idea came to her mind. “What does it mean? I remember names
mean things-” She trailed off.
“It means loved.” He responded softly and Sansa thought the name fitting for
him. “And before you ask Petyr means stone,I think my parents had some sick
sense of humour considering the stony shithole the fingers are.”
“Could... could he have that? Amyas?”
 “I suppose.” Came her Master's response. “Parents do that sort of thing.”
Seconds later Sansa's azure orbs were watching Petyr typing the middle name and
adding her own. “I thought you'd choose Eddard after your father.”
“Could he have that too? Or can you only have one?”
 Sansa hadn't even thought of that but it seemed she didn't have to, before
she'd even finished speaking the name was added in next to Amyas. She still
couldn't believe her Master was really letting her keep Tristan, it was like a
miracle.
 “My contact at the office of births, marriages and deaths will print it out,
forge the signature and shelf it back where it was. No one will ever know it
was changed since there really was a baby boy born at the exact time and date
the certificate says.” Petyr pulled Sansa a little closer to his chest taking
in another deep breath of her coconut shampoo. “Now, where's our  son?”
 Petyr asked more to tease his girl than because he actually wanted to know.
 “He's playing in the living room with Lady, his toys and Copper.” Sansa
answered with a faint smile. “Tyrion is reading in there too.”
 “Good.” Petyr grinned smugly. “He can make himself useful and play nanny for a
while. I want to spend some time with by baby girl.”
 Less than half a second later he picked Sansa up and set her down on his desk
with her legs open to him. If any other man touched her like that she'd scream
and beg for them to stop but Petyr was different, he gave her pleasure and
something else she couldn't name. She only begged for more when with him.
 “Would you like that, Sweetling?” Petyr's voice was deep and full of lust as
he slowly pulled her pink panties down her pale thighs.
 “Yes.” The word came out breathlessl.
“Yes what?” He teased. “You know I love hearing it.”
“Yes, Master.”
 Sansa heard her panties fall to the floor and felt large warm hands push the
black skirt up her legs revealing her most private parts to him. His lips
pressed kisses up her thighs as he leaned forwards in his black leather chair,
paying special attention to the little scars that littered her body, Sansa
thought they were ugly and repulsive but Petyr kept telling her they were marks
of strength; she had gone through so much and yet there she was rebuilding
herself at his side.
 Petyr could smell her wetness and growled at the knowledge that it was all for
him, he was the only one she took pleasure from; his tongue travelled up to her
folds. Sansa gasped. Fingers of one hand dove into his combed hair messing it
up while the other hand went back to support her weight, she knew he liked her
to grip onto him rather than anything else and suspected it was so all her
attention was entirely on him.
 “You taste so good, Sweetling.” He mumbled from between her legs with a hum
that vibrated through her dripping core.
A needy whimper escaped her lips as two fingers slipped into her wet heat, at
first the movements were slow and teasing and then suddenly his tongue licked
at her in need forcing mews from her parted lips that caused her eyes to
flutter shut. The arms supporting her ached and was ready to collapse but she
didn't much care, if she collapsed he'd only pull her sex back to his hungry
mouth. Her body panted and hips thrust up forcefully and without her content,
he pushed a hand down on her hip to keep his girl in place.
“Master?” She was begging again, so close, only needing a small push to get her
over the edge. “Please.”
 How could he resist that? The girl needed her release and Petyr was the only
man in all of Westeros who could give it to her. One last press of his talented
tongue to her glistening sex and Sansa came, her body convulsed and jolted as
wave after blissful wave of pleasure washed over her heated skin. When she came
down from her perfect high Sansa looked down at her Master's lips which shined
from her juices, as he licked her from his lips she heard his belt click open
and next she knew, Sansa was straddling his hips. Her face pressed into his
neck breathing him in as he guided his hard member into her entrance; Petyr
moaned into her ear. His palms pulled her hips up and down as he thrust deep
inside his girl, building a rhythm that was soon driving both them to the brink
of insanity. Petyr's mouth sucked and bit at the place where her neck met her
shoulder calling forth a purple bruise that marked her as his, he could feel
her heart thumping around her ribcage like a drum and wasn't surprised to find
it matched his own. One hand remained on her hip while the tattooed one snaked
up to cup her breast through her green silk blouse, Gods he loved to hear her
moan. Her walls fluttered around him, she was close again, and no sooner had he
registered it she came, her body clamped down on his and her nails dug into his
shoulders so deep they would probably bleed. Sansa had fallen over the edge for
a second time and Petyr came tumbling after her.
“Sansa!” He moaned into her ear when he came, continuing to thrust through
their shared orgasm.
 For a long time after Petyr and Sansa just sat there pressed against one
another panting, nothing needed to be said and so nothing was.
***** Messed Up Plans *****
Two weeks had gone by in relative peace, Sansa grew stronger every single day
and things at Lion and Stag were beginning to get back to normal. Petyr liked
normal it was mundane and easy to manipulate as he wished. Or at least
everything was normal until Wednesday morning. Petyr had woken up with Sansa in
his arms, gone downstairs, flicked on the coffee machine and grabbed the day's
newspaper from his lawn.
 
                           Tywin Lannister Murdered!
                                        
That was nota headline he wanted to read, not yet. Petyr stormed upstairs in
nothing but his navy sleep pants and barged into Tyrion's room, the blonde lay
on his chest with messy hair and no clothes. Tyrion started awake when the
newspaper was chucked at his face.
“What the fuck is this?!”
Tyrion flipped himself over and wiped his eyes before picking up the newspaper
and reading the headline, there was no denying that Tyrion was the cause of
Tywin's death. Things were quiet for a time, nothing but the sound of soft
breaths and heartbeats filling the room; Petyr's stare felt like a heavy weight
on Tyrion's shoulders.
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you.” Tyrion actually meant that, but Petyr didn't
care. “I was at your club and when I left I saw him leaving the casino down the
street. I couldn't help it, I followed him. He went back to Casterly Rock, the
beloved home mansion he banished me from. After I broke in I saw the crossbow
from way back when on the wall and... we were going to kill him anyway! And it
just happened, I wiped everything down afterwards.”
“Oh that makes it all alright then, doesn't it?!” Petyr normally kept his cards
hidden but he was pissed off and was yet to get a cup of goddamn coffee.
“I took the CCTV tapes too.”
Tyrion was right, they had planned on killing Tywin Lannister all along but
Tyrion had gone against the plan and now Petyr had to fix it. That peaceful two
weeks Baelish had enjoyed was well and truly over.
“Fine.” Petyr growled. His hair still a mess and the smell of coffee had
started to drift up the stairs. “Tywin's dead now, there's nothing I can do
about it. But you know what this means, you have to leave King's Landing...
today.” Petyr had wanted Tyrion gone for months now and with the CEO of Lion
and Stag gone all hell would break loose. “Cersei will know it was you, even
without evidence she'll decide it was you. I think it's time for you to go and
build that company with the Targaryen girl.”
“I plan to.” Was all the blonde said before slumping back down into the pillows
for a few moments more sleep.
Petyr didn't say another word he just turned and left, he needed to get to Lion
and Stag before Cersei started killing all of his future employees just for
breathing when her father couldn't. She'd want Jaime back from Dorne too, Petyr
would have to distract her long enough for Tyrion to get across the Narrow Sea
or they were all going to hell in a hand basket.
First things first though, he wanted coffee and to kiss his girl.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
Hot sun shone down and burnt the sand, it was so hot that in some areas brown
sand had tuned to glass. To the natives of Dorne the weather couldn't be
considered anything but moderate, however, to Jaime it felt like he would melt
somewhere in the next five to ten minutes. He could get used to it though,
Myrcella would love it in such weather, Tommen would too. He sat in the second
board meeting in as many days with new executives for Vaith Incorporated
listening to them go on and on about what was best for the company; Jaime was
pretty sure he no longer needed to be there for these meetings any more.
Orwen Graceford sat at the far end of the table furthest away from Jaime. The
older man with balding  black  hair was Vaith's new CLO, Chief Legal Office,
just like Pycelle was for Lion and Stag, Graceford had taken over almost all
the legal aspects the instant he'd taken  the job , no one envied him.
Opposite Graceford sat Thirl Phyre CTO, Varys had managed to steal the Chief
Technology Officer from the Martells not a week before and next to him Noely
Allyrion, who was just generally known as  The Bitch,  no matter how good at
her job she was Noely wasn't  anything compared to Varys.  Viktorya Cratter,
the youngest and most beautiful woman that had ever stepped foot in Vaith
Incorporated, she had long black hair that hung in delicate curls  and a
slightly inappropriate  white dress that clung to her curves in all the right
places,  she was conniving and knew how to form a plan. Essentially she was a
female version of Baelish, which was fitting considering she was his
counterpart at Vaith. Lastly was Brienne who sat by Jaime as always silently
taking in all the information she could.
“The company is doing better than Baelish and Varys predicted.” Said Thirl
Phyre before leaning back and taking a sip of water.
“Pycelle transferred all the relevant data last week and since the Vaith family
went bankrupt they have absolutely no chance of ever getting a foothold back in
the company.”
They knew all this, had done for months and yet everyday Jaime had to sit there
and listen to the same four people talk about the same things, then just rinse
and repeat.
“I've been corresponding with Baelish for the last month.” Viktorya began.
“He's had some incredible ideas about how to boost our income throughout the
first fiscal year of us being in charge. It has to be said that he's all but
running the company at this point-”
Viktorya found herself cut off by Jaime's cell ringing, the whole room's
attention turned to the Lannister. He was just thankful for a distraction, in
seconds the sleek black phone was pressed up against his ear. The whole room
watched his face drop.
“Get out!” He suddenly yelled startling everyone in the room, if the blonde had
been paying attention he'd have seen Graceford jump. No one moved. “Now!”
There was a tone in his voice that wasn't anger, it was something much more
dangerous, sorrow. The executives packed up their things quickly, Thirl held
the door for the girls but Orwen barged passed them. The one person who didn't
flee the room was Brienne, she wore a pale blue shirt and black slacks,
practical but not overly feminine; Jaime liked that Brienne was more focused on
who she was rather than what she wore. Cersei, Noely, Viktorya, the assistants
at Lion and Stag, they all focused on what designer name they put on their
backs but Brienne was so different. Brienne waited in silence as Jaime listened
to whoever had called him, it was bad, she knew that and she knew that he
needed the quiet. So Brienne stayed quiet.
Jaime didn't say a word as he listened, just remained still with that look of
utter sorrow plastered on his face. Finally he hung up but the quietude
remained.
“What is it Jaime?” Brienne asked softly, concern blatant in her voice. Jaime
said nothing and somehow Brienne found herself sliding her hand over Jaime's
own, a sign of comfort that finally got the blonde man to look at her. “Jaime,
tell me.”
“My father's dead.” He said simply. “He was murdered. Cersei says Tyrion did
it.”
“Oh Jaime, I'm so sorry.” Brienne wasn't used to being comforting but she tried
her best. “I thought you hadn't seen your brother in years?” She asked and
Jaime responded with a quick I haven't.“What do you want to do, Jaime?”
“I have to go back to King's Landing. Need to be with Cersei.”
The security expert had never seen him so blank, it was strange and actually
rather concerning but she said nothing about it, Brienne knew Jaime needed to
stay focused.
“Alright.” She began calmly. “I'll keep an eye on the executives and make sure
that everything stays up and running. Shouldn't be too hard.”
“No.” Came a quick response. “No, can... can you... come with me?”
Jaime didn't know why he asked that of her, when Joffrey died all those months
ago he'd been entirely focused on his sister and the distraught pain she felt,
now though, there was a sense of fear about him. The blonde man couldn't
understand why. If it really was Tyrion that killed their father then Cersei
would never stop hunting him besides, if it wasn't Tyrion their sister would
still blame him, he'd lost enough of his family. His sister wasn't a good
person, Jaime knew that, but she was his sister and he loved her. He needed
Brienne though, moral support and all that.
“Me?” She was just as surprised he'd ask as Jaime was. “If that's what you want
then of course I'll go to King's Landing with you.”
“Thank you, Brienne.”
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
Petyr burst awake to the sound of his beloved Sansa screaming at the top of her
lungs, loud and painful to his ears. It took him a moment or two to realise
that Tristan was crying and the sun was so close to starting to rise, a spark
of orange balancing on the rim of the world waiting to burst forth as a new day
full of so many possibilities.
“Sansa!” She was thrashing back and forth to the point that Petyr had to hold
her down. “Sansa wake up!" The redhead suddenly bolted upright almost throwing
Petyr from the bed. “It's alright, Sweetling. I'm here.”
She panted in search for desperately needed air, her skin was damp with cold
sweat and hair stuck to her forehead.
“Master!”
Tristan continued to cry but it was background noise in that moment, his girl
was scared and Petyr found all his attention focused on her.
“I'm here Sansa.” Baelish told her softly as he held her close and pushed away
stray locks of red hair. “It's okay, baby girl.”
“Don't send me back.” She begged, her pants turning to tears and panic.
“Please, I'll be good. I will! I'll be good. Please, Master?”
Petyr took a deep breath, his moss colored eyes stung from having just woken
but he said nothing about it, instead he kept his tone light and gripped her
tighter.
“Listen to me, you're safe. He's dead and you'll never go back. You're mine.”
Sansa clung to Petyr's naked chest so tightly that her nails caused him to
bleed; neither cared. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No Master.” It was hardly a whisper but still Baelish heard her. “Thank you,
Master.”
“For what?”
“For being my Master.”
That made Petyr smile, a real smile and not because it fed his ego every time
she said Masteror because she clung to him like a lifeline but because of how
strong and brave she was, how Sansa had rebuilt herself. Baelish kissed her
lips. He opened his mouth to speak but Tristan let out a huge scream that
pulled their attention to the boy, he'd been beside Sansa the whole time.
“I'll take care of him.” She said through her tears, pushing them away and
concentrating on the child Petyr had let her keep as her own.
They boy calmed quickly in her arms as she wiped away his little tears, and
cuddled him close like only a Mother could. Petyr hated to admit it but the
child was starting to grow on him, the boy didn't cry, often, and gave Sansa a
true purpose. He leaned in and kissed her forehead once more before standing up
off the bed.
“I'm going to take a shower, Sweetling.” The dark-haired man stretched letting
his body crack satisfyingly. “I have an early meeting at Lion and Stag so I'm
going to my club first to deal with some paperwork. Would you like to come?” He
questioned as an after thought.
“Please.”
“Alright. You should get some more sleep, I'll wake you when it's time to get
up.”
He kissed her again and then headed off to the bathroom, door shutting with a
quiet click.Early morning rays of life were just starting creep past the window
panes into their bedroom, Sansa spent more time in Petyr's room than her own so
theirwas pretty accurate.
“I'm sorry I scared you, Tristan.” She told the raven haired boy with love.
“Mama!” Tristan beamed and Sansa smiled.
Only a short time ago that word would have forced her to tears and terrified
her beyond belief but now it made her heart fill with pride. That was what she
was now. The Lannisters had taken away her family but Petyr had given her a new
one, a little reluctantly but still he'd done it. Master couldn't bring her
parents back to life or her siblings but he gave her a son, and she had him.
There was so much Petyr Baelish had given her so much, she wasn't afraid of
every tiny thing any more, her own shadow didn't make her recoil in fear; she
wouldn't let a nightmare rip it all away from her. There was no Joffrey, no
chains and where there had once been horror there was joy.
Sansa fell asleep to the sound of running water and her son's breaths.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
Six in the morning found Petyr driving Sansa, Tristan, Tyrion and Lady to his
club, Tyrion wanted to have some fun with one of the girls before going to the
airport and Baelish had some work to tend to anyway, it was early but the club
would close soon, The Mockingbird always stayed open late into Sundays. They
went in via the back entrance as they'd taken to doing if the blonde was with
them, Ros had been waiting just like Petyr had told her to be and he'd never
seen the little lion vanish so eagerly, Lady settled down on the floor of his
office by Sansa's feet while his girl played with Tristan. Petyr thought things
would calm down once Tyrion was out of their hair, off to do whatever the hell
it was with that Targaryen girl; he could breath again.
Not five minutes had gone by between entering The Mockingbird and closing his
office door before Olyvar was knocking on his door and poking his head inside
cautiously; Oly had no idea what the boss and Alayne would be doing in there.
“Em, Boss?” The blonde started, his pants were rumpled and where there was
normally a powered blue shirt lay nothing but soft white flesh. “Donte Coen
doesn't want to pay his bill for Armeca, something about her cock sucking
skills being shit.”
Petyr sighed and muttered something under his breath along the lines of do I
have to do everything?Sansa just sat quietly with Copper and Tristan in her
arms, she could practically sense Petyr reaching for his cigarettes and when
blue eyes looked up lighter and cigarette were in his hands. There were no
smoking signs almost everywhere but Petyr never seemed to care; it was his
club.
“I'll deal with it.”
And deal with it Petyr did, not ten minute later Donte Coen was bruised, beaten
and paying up, Littlefinger new he could never win in a fair fight but he knew
how to inflict pain, especially when two of his bouncers had tied Coen to a
chair in one of the spare rooms. Donte Coen had always been a pathetic and
cheep man and by the end of his encounter with him Petyr had banned the moron
from his club. He'd sent the taller of his bouncers, Tyrell - a slender man
with bright blue eyes and chestnut hair who was their version of Hannibal
Lecter minus the long pig – to find Ros and have her sent to his office.
When he got back to his inner sanctum Tristan was asleep on the couch with Lady
cuddled around him like a protector while Sansa read the book she'd brought
with her, the redhead struggled with words but she really pushed herself to
learn to read fluently so as she could one day teach Tristan. Petyr was proud
of his girl as he pulled her onto his lap at his desk and started going over
the clubs accounts.
Sansa was starting to nod off herself when Ros finally knocked and entered his
office bringing a gust of hot air with her, Ros' hair was an absolute mess as
though it hadn't been brushed yet and she was still zipping up her dress, there
wasn't even a hint of make-up.
“Tyrell woke me up. You wanted to see me?”
Ros raised an eyebrow at Alayne cuddled up to his chest, she'd seen it once or
twice before but it was still a little strange to her, Littlefinger wasn't a
cuddly man and he certainly wasn't the romantic type and yet he seemed to be
quite taken with the younger redhead; he'd even taken in the baby boy too.
Petyr looked up.
“I did yes. I want you to take Alayne shopping today, spoil her.”
A strange request but not the worst Ros had ever gotten from him; it also kept
Sansa busy while Petyr dealt with Tywin's death.
“I don't need anything, Master” Sansa, or Alayne, reasoned.
Ros didn't even raise an eyebrow at the word Mastershe didn't want to know what
Littlefinger and his teenager were into, if she got paid and had a roof over
her head she didn't give a shit about anything; as for the child snoozing on
his couch Ros wasn't even going there.
“I know.” Said Petyr before pressing a soft kiss to his girl's lips. “I like
spoiling you though.”
Ros had been dying for an excuse to go shopping and her boss' plaything was a
good enough one in her eyes.
“I don't mind taking her.” The older redhead told him pulling Petyr's attention
back to her.
“You're not coming?” And that attention went straight back to the girl in his
arms.
“No, Sweetling.”
“But-”
“You can do it.” He assured while cutting his girl off.
Petyr knew she'd be scared but Sansa was strong enough to do it, the trip would
be good for her, doing something without him as a constant safety net. Sansa
could do it, of that Petyr had no doubt.
“You're my brave girl right?”
Reluctantly Sansa answered.
“Yes, Master.”
Ros had endured just about enough of whatever thiswas and found herself
speaking before her brain had given her permission.
“Cool! We'll leave the dog and the kid with Olyvar and-” Petyr cut her off
suddenly and without mercy.
“No.” He told her firmly. “Lady goes too, she doesn't leave Alyane. As for
Tristan, I'll take him with me.”
Petyr seriously didn't want the boy with him for any length of time but he
could see Sansa needed a break even if she wouldn't come out and say so, he
could cope with Tristan for a few hours for his Sweetling. Everything would be
fine.
After slipping on her long chestnut wig Sansa reluctantly obeyed her Master and
followed Ros out into the world with nothing but Lady and rather large wad of
cash held together by a sterling sliver money clip. The world was rather
horrific without the moss eyed man by her side but he'd said she was brave and
strong, Sansa wanted him to be proud of her which meant she'd do all she could
to be brave.  Don't come back until you've spent it all, get Lady something
nice,  he'd told her and that was exactly what Sansa and Ros were going to do:
obey.
***** Audit *****
 Petyr knew he'd made a mistake the instant he set foot into Lion and Stag's
reception on the ground floor, Myranda the receptionist had just stared at him
as he walked over to the elevators with her mouth gaping open in what he could
only describe as a combination of confusion, disgust and fear; fear that she'd
fallen into some kind of alternate dimension or a strange game of spot the
difference. Petyr ignored her however, and hit the button for floor fifty-one.
 The familiar sound of a counterweight filled the large metal box as it
assented towards the top floor, Petyr could feel Tristan's bold blue eyes on
him and the older man looked down, the boy was smiling. Sansa had dressed him
in a pair of navy khaki pants a grey shirt and a little navy waistcoat, it only
then dawned on Petyr that Sansa had dressed the boy to match her Master's
style, thought Petyr preferred black. Baelish sighed.
“I should have left you in the brothel.”
The dark-haired man couldn't help but laugh, if anyone had heard him say that
they'd have called social services in a heartbeat.
 “Dada.” Muttered the raven haired boy, his locks were starting to curl at the
ends almost like Petyr's did if he let it get too long.
“Yeah, yeah. I know, I'm Daddy. You do know the only reason you're still here
is because I want to keep everything even after I'm dead, right?”
 No response the toddler didn't understand and Petyr didn't expect him to, no
doubt Tristan only understood the word  Daddy and he seemed happy enough with
that. Little fingers clung to Petyr's coal black shirt and the boy's head
rested delicately against his chest while Baelish supported him with one arm.
Finally the silver doors slid open and Littlefinger stepped out onto the
executives floor, more staring from goggling eyes but it ended quickly when
they realised the CFO could see them. The man with grey at his temple made his
way to his office on the other side of the floor while Tristan looked around
with wonder in his little baby blues.
 Baelish found Gwendolyn sat at her desk as usual when he rounded the corner to
his office, she had her dyed blonde hair tied back in a loose braid and wore a
black ponte shift dress with a square neckline and three-quarter sleeves, a
dress he'd notice she favoured. Her eyes flashed with surprise when she noticed
Tristan but she had the common courtesy not to outright stare at the boy.
 “Hello sir, your mail is on your desk.” She told him before flashing a smile
at Tristan who clung to his father's chest. “And whose this little cutie?”
Petyr thought to himself for a moment, she's a mother. Oh this could work
nicely.He shuffled the boy in his arms and made a show of pushing a dark lock
out of the boy's eyes before answering.
“This is Tristan, my son.”
“You have a son?”
“Yes.” Let's not get into how and why.“I do.”
 “He looks like you, sir.” Petyr highly doubted that. “How old is he?”
 “Eleven months.” Petyr didn't like personal conversations but he needed
Gwendolyn to like him and Tristan right now. “Would you mind taking care of him
for me while I'm in with the other executives?”
“Of course, I'd love to.”
 Gwendolyn reached out happily for Tristan who went after Petyr managed to
prise his little fingers from his shirt,  do I need a crowbar? That was getting
to be a regular question. His blonde assistant seemed to have the magic touch
though because almost instantly Tristan calmed down and relaxed. With a  bye
Tristan  to keep him looking like a good father Petyr walked away, off to his
meeting.
“Dada?”
“Oh don't worry, Angel.” Said Gwendolyn with a red lined smile. “Daddy wouldn't
want to leave you for too long.”
 Petyr nearly laughed at that as he continued walking,  Daddy begs to differ.
 Varys, Cersei, Pycelle, Brienne and new CEO Jaime were already in the
boardroom when Petyr got there, it took him only a second to take his usual
seat by Varys who offered him a  good morning that Baelish hardly responded to.
The rarely seen CTO entered a second or two later, Petyr didn't know why he
still had a job because the man knew absolutely nothing about technology.
 Cersei looked ready to kill, it had only been six weeks since Joffrey was
buried and now Tywin was dead too. Tyrion had been reckless and killed him far
too soon but Petyr could work with it, he always had a backup plan - and a
backup plan for his back up plan, yes he could work with Jaime as CEO. Finally
Roose and his son Ramsay came in to the boardroom slumping down onto the two
vacant chairs closest to the door.  The gang's all here then thought Petyr with
a smug smile.
 “You snatching kids now, Baelish?” Asked Ramsay with a sadistic chuckle.
 “Starting your whores a big young, don't you think?” Seemed both Boltons
wanted to make jokes, Pycelle was the only one to laugh though.
 “He's my son.” Came Petyr's easy answer and it was rather amusing to watch
everyone raise an eyebrow.
 There was an anger in the room though that kept anyone from speaking and it
radiated from Cersei Lannister, she only had two moods; angry or homicidal
there was no middle ground unless she was with Jaime.
“Can we get to the point?!” She growled, that seemed to knock everyone back
into business mode.
 “Cersei is right.” Began Jaime at the head of the table, Tywin's old seat.
“Father is gone which means I am CEO. Baelish, I understand that Father left
you in charge once before.” Petyr nodded. “I want you to do it again until I've
gone over all of Father's paperwork and I've finished with the estate.”
 “No.” Cersei practically screamed. “I'll do it.”
 “No, Cersei. Baelish will, I need you with me.” Jaime told her calmly.
“But-”
“Cersei.”
Jaime's tone was calm but his eyes were full of dominance that was rarely seen
and it shut his sister up rather quickly.
“Baelish knows what he's doing, according to Varys there was actually an
increase in figures while he was running things. You'll deal with father's
otherbusiness.”
 Jaime didn't say it but everyone knew he was talking about the drugs, guns and
women. Cersei had always liked that part of her father's business to Lion and
Stag, the lioness let out a huff and crossed her arms over her chest; she
looked like a teenager throwing a tantrum.
“Fine.”
Petyr's smug smile grew and he couldn't help thinking back in the saddle
again.The rest of the room remained oblivious to his amusement and just
remained quiet while Jaime continued to speak.
 “Brienne, I'd like you to please work with Bolton and his son, Ramsay, to make
sure security is at its best.” Jaime sighed. “Whoever did this to Father may
pose a threat to the rest of us or our staff.”
“Of course, Jaime.”
 Brienne just wanted to help her friend in his time of need, at first she'd
hated him but now Brienne had great respect for the blonde man to her right.
“Who even are you?”
 It was rather clear that Cersei didn't like the blonde newcomer, then again
Cersei Lannister didn't like anyone. The taller woman wasn't intimidated
though.
 “My name is Brienne.” She said. “I work for Sapphire Isle, it's a security
company based in Tarth-”
The lioness cut her off.
“Fascinating, and why are you here?”
 Jaime could do without his sister and best friend getting into some kind of
cat fight, which he knew Cersei would be more than happy with.
 “Cersei be nice.” He told her firmly. “Brienne is here because I asked her to
be. She's better than anyone I've ever met at her job.”
 “Thanks.” Roose muttered under his breath.
 “Yes, Bolton I am aware you're in the room and Brienne is better, get over
it.” The CEO shot back and Bolton fell silent, Ramsay just stared at his father
with a look of utter disgust.
 For a time the meeting got back on task, everyone knew what they were meant to
be doing though Cersei was still pissed she didn't get the CEO crown, which was
good because Petyr had just sent it off to be polished and resized for his
head. The entire meeting went by with Baelish wearing a  fuck you Cersei
smile. Suddenly Pycelle started to speak.
 “Sir, surly I should be left in charge.” It took the room a second to realise
he was continuing from three conversations ago. “I am head of the legal
department and in this frenzy caused by the passing of your father-” No one
liked it when Pycelle started to ramble on and Jaime cut him off with a raised
hand.
 “I've made my decision, Pycelle.”
 “Aww, passed up again.” Petyr teased and even Varys grinned.
 “Some just aren't cut out for power.” The bald CHRO added.
 Unsurprisingly it was Brienne to put a stop to the teasing and got back to the
reason they were all there; Lion and Stag. Petyr liked the blonde woman, she
seemed capable and intelligent which was unusual in the modern world, she also
seemed to have helped Jaime grow from the moron who just wanted to play knight
to a competent adult; something Petyr had never expected to see.
 “We need to make sure that the other companies run by Lion and Stag don't go
into panic-” Whatever Brienne was going to say next was cut off by Cersei.
“What does this have to do with you? You don't work here and even if you did
you're security. Go guard the door or reach something on a high shelf.” She
snarled and Ramsay snorted.
Shame Cersei could be pretty if she didn't frown so much  Petyr's mind
muttered.
 “Cersei.” That shut his sister up again. “Go on Brienne.” Jaime offered his
friend a slight smile.
 “Thank you, Jaime.” The tiny smile was returned. “As I was saying, if the
other companies start to panic they'll lose faith in Lion and Stag. We can't
have that.”
 Baelish certainly liked her, he had been about to say the same thing but Varys
started speaking first.
 “I already have my little birds working on that so don't worry, my dear.”
Varys always sounded calm no matter the situation.
“I have the ear of most of the other executives so I don't think we'll have a
problem with them, as for the rest of the staff they'll believe what we tell
them as long as we phrase it right.” Said Petyr.
 “You sure?” Asked Brienne with a look of incredulity on her sharp features.
 “Very.” Petyr and Varys responded in unison.
 Jaime was getting bored with the meeting he'd called, he'd never been one for
boardrooms but it had to be done, almost everything was dealt with and Jaime
wanted to be out as soon as possible.
 “Bolton, show Brienne our security protocol. In fact show her everything, give
her a tour since she's not been here before. It would be best if she knew every
camera.”
“Of course, sir.”
 Roose nodded and reluctantly agreed, Ramsay's look of utter hatred for his
father only grew. Jaime turned to Petyr.
 “Baelish, I was informed this morning that Lion and Stag is being audited. I
don't want a fuck up because someone from finance has put a decimal point in
the wrong place, as CFO you should be able to handle this.”
 “I do thrive on a challenge.” Littlefinger grinned while Pycelle licked his
wounds caused by being sidelined yet again.
 “Varys, along with keeping the staff under control I want a you to find every
rumour, every theory on what happened to my father and crush it.” Varys nodded.
“Pycelle with this audit we can't be too careful, look at everything father was
doing and see if anything can bite us in the ass.”
 “It would be my pleasure sir. Your father trusted me to-” Yet again Cersei cut
someone off.
“No he didn't and shut up.”
Jaime sighed.
“If there is nothing else I think we're done here. Sister, come with me to the
docks.”
 The room emptied quickly with executives off to complete the tasks they'd been
given, Petyr just hoped Sansa hadn't had some kind of panic attack on her
outing with Ros; he'd had no phone call though so he was hopeful.
When the Cleaner returned to his office Gwendolyn had vanished from her desk
with Tristan, Petyr looked around and soon found her stood by the water cooler
with Varys' assistant Tiana, Pycelle's assistant who Petyr thought was called
Piper as well as some guy from the mail room. They were all cooing over baby
Baelishas they'd dubbed him and Tristan seemed happy enough, after only a
second or two Gwendolyn turned to see her boss at the door to his office and
smiled.
“Look Tristan, Daddy is back.”
 Petyr's adopted son reached out for him as Baelish came closer but he didn't
reach for the boy, he looked to Gwendolyn.
“I'm going to need a copy every financial report for Lion and Stag as well as
every company we control over the last five years. We're being audited, so tell
accounting that if they piss me off during this they'll find themselves
jobless.” Petyr let that sink in for a second before looking down to Tristan
who was still reaching for him and muttering dada.“Now, give me my son.”
Petyr never thought he'd have to say that but Tristan was his son now whether
he liked it or not, Gwendolyn handed over the child and ruffled his hair before
wandering off to do as her boss had asked. Piper, Tiana and the mail room guy
dispersed too.
“Dada back.” Muttered Tristan happily.
The CFO carried his son back over to his office and locked himself away to deal
with the world of audits and running Lion and Stag once more. He was soclose.
***** Utter Peace *****
It was late in the day when Sansa – or Alayne as she'd been called all day –
and Ros arrived back at The Mockingbird, the redhead was proud of herself
because she'd managed to remain utterly calm throughout the whole day, the
reason they were late was down to the amount of outfits Ros had made her try on
and model, something about wanting to look sexy for daddy  which Sansa hadn't
understood or dare ask about. The club was in full swing and people littered
the place like every other night, Ros told her that she'd store the mountain of
bags in her apartment above the club and she could grab them when they left
before wandering off to get ready for the night. On the way down the stairs
from her apartment she came across Mads who held Tristan and Sansa raced over
to get her little boy almost knocking Ros over on the way.
 “The boss said to keep him in your apartment, Ros.” Said Mads with a thick
accent. “Tyrell radioed and said you were back.”
Sansa managed a thank you when she took Tristan into her arms and Ros didn't
seem surprised or annoyed by the knowledge that Petyr had a key to her
apartment, in fact she'd have been shocked if he didn't. As more and more
people entered the club Sansa started to grow uncomfortable along with her son,
they quickly turned back to Petyr's office with Lady following behind her and
pushed open the door to step inside, she heard Olyvar shout something across
the room like Alayne I wouldn't-but it was too late.
 Inside her Master sat at his desk as usual but there was an older redhead
perched on his lap kissing him, in that moment Sansa's heart fell apart and
crumbled to dust, she'd thought she was important to him and all her self-doubt
and conditioning came flooding back.  Sansa is a pet, nothing more. Sansa has
no right to anything. He's the Master, he can do what he likes. Sansa is
nothing!  Her mind was in such a state of horror and sorrow that she didn't
notice the way her Master's body was tense or that he made no attempt to kiss
back, azure eyes fell to the dark hardwood floor and she gripped Tristan
tighter. The older redhead looked up after a moment or two and looked straight
at Sansa who still wore her chestnut wig, Petyr all but spat the taste of her
from his mouth.
“Well I should get back to Robin, I told him I wouldn't be gone long.”
 Sansa could feel eyes on her and desperately wanted to vanish into oblivion
with Tristan, she couldn't bring herself to look up.  Should Sansa kneel?  Her
mind ask while trying not to cry. Lysa kissed Petyr again and then got up to
leave, she paused by Sansa with a look of utter disgust on her aged face before
turning back to Littlefinger.
 “You shouldn't let her use you as a daycare, Petyr. Whores shouldn't even be
allowed to have children.”  And nor should crazy bitches said Baelish's mind.
Without another word Lysa Arryn slammed the door shut behind her and was gone,
leaving Lady growing at the space she'd once occupied. Petyr wiped as much of
her lipstick from his face with his hand as he could while all but running to
Sansa, he could see how broken she'd just been. His Littlefingerpersona was
gone and Sansa's Master and protectorwas back. He pulled his girl into a hug
and felt how tense with fear her body had gone, Petyr felt a suddenly spark
telling him to find a roof and push Lysa from it.
 “Don't cry, Sansa. Please don't cry.”
 The tears flowed now and that urge to kill Lysa only intensified, still he
made no attempt to let go of Sansa and his son. Lady snuggled into Sansa's leg
to offer her comfort.
“Sansa... thought she was... special to Master.”
He hated that she used Sansaagain instead of Ibut at the same time found
himself grateful that she still possessed the courage to speak to him, my brave
baby girl.
 “Please don't start talking like that again, Sweetling.” If they hadn't have
known better his tone would have sounded begging. “And you are special. Sansa,
you're important.”
 “Did... did San-I do something wrong? I can learn to be better.”
 Petyr had thought they were done with all that but it was only then, stood in
his office holding her that Baelish realised that part of her would never truly
be gone.
 “What? No, you didn't do anything wrong and you're perfect just the way you
are.” Petyr told her honestly.
“Please don't replace me with her.” It was a plea. Did Joffrey say he would
replace her?
 “Never! You're mine remember. She is nothing to me.” Baelish tried to convince
his darling girl. “Just an annoying and obsessive bitch that thinks I'm in love
with her. Her name is Lysa Arryn and she's your aunt.”  Probably best to tell
her it all at once rather than keep stopping and starting.
 “What?” Sansa wiped away tears.
 Petyr sighed.
 “She's your mother's sister. We all grew up together and she's been obsessed
with me for as long as I can remember. I've been trying to convince Jon Arryn
to merge his company with Lion and Stag or at least form a partnership for
years. He says I'm too  nakedly ambitious.  Lysa is his wife and nothing but a
means to an end.” Petyr was relieved to feel Sansa relax in his arms a little.
“I don't love her, I don't even like her and I certainly won't replace you.”
“So... so I can stay?” His girl asked while trying not to sniffle. “Be with
Master?”
 “Yes, of course.” Baelish pressed a kiss to the top of Sansa's head before
pulling away just enough to look at those beautiful eyes, still no eye contact,
never would be. “How about we go home and you show me all the clothes you
bought? I'd love to see.”
 “Okay, Mater.” Sansa managed, he could still hear the fear in her tone but it
was far more subtle than just a few moments ago.
 Uncertainty clung to her like a shroud but all her Master did was try to
assure her and make Sansa feel safe. He told her that she was important and
special, Sansa wanted to believe him and she did everything in her power to
silence the voice in the back of her head screaming  he doesn't want you. When
her tears had fully stopped Petyr went up to Ros' apartment to get her things
and then took his girl home.
 Petyr didn't care what people thought about him but with Sansa it was
different, he cared what she thought.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
 Night had well and truly set in by the time Petyr, Sansa, Lady and little
Tristan got home, the boy was already asleep in her arms and Lady kept yawning
in the back seat; which was rather disconcerting to see in his rear view
mirror. As soon as they stepped into the house and Petyr had flicked on the
lights Sansa started speaking.
“Can Tristan and I go to bed?”
 Petyr could tell she was still hurt and confused, from Sansa's point of view
she had no right to be jealous and hurt but she was anyway. Baelish sighed.
 “Of course you can, Sweetling. Come here first though.”
 The redhead obeyed and let Petyr engulf her in his arms along with Tristan, he
just held her for a moment or two.
“Lysa Arryn is nothing but an annoyance to me.” He told her again, firmly
getting that message into her head.
“Master doesn't have to explain. I'm yours, you can do what you want.” Her
voice was quiet.
 “Trust me Sansa, she is  not what I want.” Petyr leaned in to press his lips
to her own, it only took a moment for her to kiss him back. “You're my special
girl. What are you?”
“Yours, Master.”
“Close enough.” He kissed his girl again. “Off to bed with you...” A sudden
thought popped into his dangerous little mind. “... or would you like a bath?”
Petyr hadn't physically bathed her since the first night she'd spent with him,
Sansa felt drained but she could see the way her Master's eyes ghosted over her
delicate form and Tristan was already asleep. He looked like he really wanted
to and she couldn't say noto him, never him.
 “Please, Master.” Though the redhead didn't look up she could feel Petyr
grinning.
“Go upstairs then and I'll be there in a few minutes.”
 Sansa nodded and obeyed her Master carrying Tristan into her bedroom and
setting him down on the couch surrounded by pillows she used as his bed. Petyr
appeared behind her a few moments later holding a cut crystal glass of his
favoured whiskey, he took a sip before speaking.
 “No more of that, Sweetling.” His voice was deep and dominant. “I have a
present for young Tristan.” He took another sip.
 “You do?” Sansa grinned with excitement.
 “Yep. Come on.” Petyr gestured for her to follow him and left the room while
drinking the last of his whiskey. “Bring Tristan.”
 The redhead pulled the sleeping child back into her arms grateful that he
didn't stir, the raven haired little boy was a good sleeper, ballerina flat
clad feet followed along the hallways and stopped a room that thinking about it
Sansa had never entered before. Petyr reached for the door handle but came to a
sudden halt and turned back to his girl and new son.
 “Close your beautiful blue eyes, Sweetling.” He told her softly. “We're going
to do this like a...  family surprise.”
Sansa's lips upturned in a little simper, the word familywasn't normally used
around Sansa without murderor deadbeing in the same sentence somewhere, she
liked the way Petyr said the word though because it felt like the beautiful
future rather than the evil past. His girl shuffled Tristan in her arms and did
as requested, Petyr just looked at her for a time taking in just how gorgeous
Sansa really was and revelling in the amount of trust she granted him. Soon
though she started to show signs of worry and it was only then that the Cleaner
realised how long they'd been stood in silence, it snapped Baelish back to the
world around him and took hold of his girl's elbow so he could lead her into
the room.
 Her feet moved slowly, careful so as not to trip over something but as soon as
she stood in the centre of the room she felt Petyr press a kiss to her
forehead; she was the only one to ever see his tender side.
“Open.”
 Sansa gasped when her azure orbs flew open to find a wonderfully decorated
bedroom just for Tristan. The walls were a deep blue like the ocean at night
with light wood furniture and the most adorable little crib she'd ever seen,
there were toys lined up on shelves and a chair for Sansa to sit and read to
him; she felt like crying. Petyr had done it so as he could have Sansa back to
himself, he could see she liked it but Baelish asked her anyway.
“Do you like it, baby girl?” He asked from behind her.
Said baby girl started to nod frantically with a gargantuan grin.
“Yes! Yes, Master!”
 Only a short time ago Sansa had no idea how to feel, how to cry or laugh, yet
now right in front of him he saw her happy and full of life, something she'd
never thought possible for herself. Petyr was cunning, ambitious, sarcastic,
highly observant and just a little bit sadistic but Sansa was the brave one,
full of courage and strength.
“This is why I had you out of the house all day. People have been bringing
furniture in.”
“People did all this in one day?”
“When you have as much money as I do then yes, it takes a day.” She felt his
hands on her hips pulling her back to his chest, he still held the glass but it
had long since been emptied. “Now.” He began while pressing a soft kiss to her
neck. “Put Tristan in his nice new bed and let your Master give you a bath.”
 With one more kiss Petyr left the room probably to get another glass of rich
amber liquid. Sansa looked around the room with a sparkle in her dazzling eyes,
she snuggle a still sleeping Tristan closer.
 “Look what your daddy did for you.” Somehow that word just seemed right, and
no matter how aloof he acted towards Tristan, Sansa knew he cared. “Isn't it
beautiful?”
There was no response though since the boy snoozed peacefully in her arms, he
looked utterly adorable when she settled him down in his new crib and tucked
him up in his pale blue blanket. She took one of the toys down from the shelf,
a brown bear with a little green bow, and pressed it into his sleeping arms.
Her Master had a plan for the boy now, something about legacy but Sansa knew he
was growing to care for Tristan, even if he denied it.
“Night Tristan.” She whispered.
“Mama.” Muttered the boy before drifting back to sleep.
 The boy really had given her a purpose. She left the room as quietly as
possible and headed towards the Master bedroom's en suit. Inside the white room
stood Petyr by the bathtub watching it fill with hot water, his suit jacket had
vanished and the sleeves of his Dublin green shirt had been rolled up as far as
they would go; the glass had been refilled and hung loosely from one hand while
the other tattooed one tested the temperature of the water.
“Thank you for Tristan's room. It's beautiful.”
Petyr turned to face her and took another little sip of his whiskey, his
normally perfectly trimmed moustache was starting to look messy thanks to the
day's stubble build up, it was almost like seeing behind his mask.
“I'm glad you like it. Since he now has the name BaelishI thought it was time
he had a room of his own. Now, come here and let me take your clothes off.” He
grinned.
 A year ago those words would have terrified her into paralysis and she'd be
lying if she said that there wasn't still a spark of horror in the back of her
mind, if her body didn't tense every time she heard a loud noise, always would
be. Now Sansa felt a surge of strength and courage as well that came directly
from him. He made her brave.
The redhead crossed the room to her Master and watched as he set his glass down
by the basin before starting to undress her, she wore a silk blouse in a pale
peach with little buttons that popped open quickly and slid down off her
shoulders to the floor. Sansa had felt no embarrassment for nakedness in as
long as she could remember. Lips were pressed to each and every one of the
scars coating Sansa's pale neck, they were fading now she had a proper diet and
sunlight but they would never be gone. Her waist high black skirt was next to
fall followed quickly by purple panties and a matching bra, she was utterly
stunning to Petyr, so beautifully perfect.
Much to her surprise Baelish pressed a kiss to her soft lips then leaned in and
lifted her over into the bath where he set her down gently. Master is stronger
than he looks,muttered her mind.The water was soothing on her skin, warm and
relaxing, her Master knelt beside her with an easy smile rested on his lips.
For a few moments of pure bliss he ran his long fingers up and down her milky
thigh under the lavender scented water letting Sansa rest happily. Just after
her eyes fell shut and her head drifted backwards to rest on the rim of the
bath Petyr soaped up a dark green wash cloth and started to wipe away the sins
of the day. Sansa had never felt so cared for, so treasured and she reviled in
every single second of it, this is how life should be.She was his now, only
his, and an owner needed to take care of his girl.
Time stopped as the steam drifted around the room and he muttered sweet
nothings to her as she bathed, little things like that's a good girl,and, so
beautiful,to be honest the redhead wasn't completely sure if he knew he was
talking, the again did it matter?
Once the bath water cooled he helped her out and dried her off with a fluffy
white towel that smelt faintly of him. Sansa was in heaven, paradise, whatever
people wanted to call it. Her Master even dried her hair for her, brushing it
softly banishing the knots and tangles until nothing but delicate fire red
locks were left.
Utter peace.
***** The New VP Of Lion And Stag Enterprises *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Brienne and a rather frazzled looking Jaime Lannister were at Tyrin's desk,
Brienne had the high backed leather chair while the blonde man hunched over it,
on the oversized desk   sat a desktop computer, a notebook lying open, and a
stack of papers sitting under a    lion shaped    paperweight     while others
had been strewn about in a state of half organised clutter. The office hadn't
been touched or changed since Tywin had been murdered but Jaime needed to go
through his father's paperwork and thankfully Brienne had agreed to help him.
He owed her so much.
 T   he office    had been overly    decorated    with    Lion sculptures and
the    occasional pot plant    that was now half dead   . Three walls were gold
in     color while the forth, behind Tywin's desk was a floor to ceiling window
that looked out over the financial district.     No on   e     knew that once
Petyr took over he planned on breaking Ty    w   in's office back down into
three and increasing the size of his own just so he could keep the view of the
sea.
  Jaime let out an exasperated sigh and his head hit the desk with a dense
thud, Brienne glanced at him     questioningly.
“Brienne, I have no idea what half of this is. I don't do paperwork, I charm
people.”
 “You're not looking very charming right now.” She told him teasingly. “You
look like a man child. Anyway, I don't understand all of this either, I've
looked at security though as you asked and I have to say that Roose Bolton
actually knows what he's doing. It could be better but it's certainly not lax.”
Brienne paused for a second before adding. “His son is evil.”
“You can say that again.” Jaime told her while lifting his head up and pushing
his eyes back to the stack of paperwork. “I know you'll make security even
better though, I have faith in you.”
 Such simple words said without thinking but they made Brienne smile, everyone
thought Jaime was at the beck and call of his sister but he was actually a very
noble man at heart.
“You'll get used to all this, Jaime.” She told him letting their eyes meet.
“It'll just take a while to get used to. The stress-”
 Whatever Brienne had planned on saying next got cut off abruptly by Cersei
bursting into the office with a look of pure determination on her sharp but
beautiful features. Brienne wanted to groan, in truth the only Lannister she
liked was Jaime. Cersei's dagger like eyes glared at the taller woman and if
looks could kill Brienne would have dropped down dead.
“Get out!” She growled coming to a halt before her father's – well Jaime's –
desk. “I want to talk to my brother.”
 Jaime internally sighed,  why can't she be nice for five minutes?  He could
sense Brienne's discomfort.
“Sister, please be polite to Brienne. She's done a lot to help me, us,and she
is my friend.”
 The taller blonde was thankful for her friend's input but the lioness would
never be civil towards her, still Jaime's attempt was what counted.
“I'm sure it is all out the goodness of her heart.” Cersei sneered in a tone
that said he'll never fuck you.
 Jaime sighed again, it seemed like that was all he'd done since returning to
Lion and Stag again and most of it had been caused by his sister.
“Brienne?” She turned to face him in the chair. “Would you mind please?”
“Of course not, I've been meaning to walk the lower floors again anyway.”
 The lioness glowered at the security expert until Brienne finally slipped out
the large glass door before turning back to her brother. Rich rays of sunlight
burst in via the large window causing her long curled hair to glow almost as
though she wore a crown and made her deep red dress shimmer, if she didn't
scowl so much the woman would have been very beautiful.
“Have you fucked that lumberjack yet?” Cersei demanded. “Because I really
thought you had better taste.”
“Cersei!”
 The tone was warning, something he'd picked up from father and Jaime was
pleased to find it still worked on her.
“Fine. She's your hulk not mine. I just thought you-”
 “What do you want, sister?” He asked cutting her insults off. “Or did you just
want to insult Brienne?”
“No there was a reason. I've decided that I'm taking over Joffrey's position as
Vice President since you're now CEO.”
“Father-”
“Father is dead!” She screamed. “He didn't let me have a part in the company
just had me take care of the girls he trafficked. I'm Vice President of Lion
and Stag Enterprises and I'll be taking over the otherbusiness too since you
have no interest in it. This company is ours now.”
Jaime loved his sister but he wasn't stupid, he knew that by  ours she really
meant  mine.  Cersei had never really been very good at sharing. He opened his
mouth to speak but the blonde woman cut him off once more.
“I wasn't asking your permission, Jaime. I essentially did the job for Joffrey
anyway so I know what I'm doing. I amLion and Stag's new Vice President, I came
in here to tell you that not negotiate for it.”
 Jaime couldn't argue, she had been doing the job for years since Joffrey
didn't care and the company couldn't go on without one.
“Alright.” He eventually told her.
 “Good. First thing I want is Pycelle gone, he's old and I'm sick of his
moaning.”
“Cersei, let's not be hasty.” He couldn't afford his sister jumping the gun
again, look what happened to Ned Stark and his family last time.“I'm going to
go over all of father's paperwork with the aid of Baelish and Pycelle after
that we'll deal with personnel.”
 Cersei seemed to understand his caution and thankfully relented.
 “Okay, just make it quick because I want Pycelle  gone. After that I want us
to fire Baelish as well. That bastard Littlefinger always wanted this company
and now that father's gone he may stand a chance of getting it, I'm not having
that.”
 “You know better than anyone we can't fire Petyr Baelish, and before you
suggest it  no we can't just kill him. Baelish has far too many contingency
plans and at the moment he is the only thing keeping this company under
control.”
“Then put a leash on him.” Cersei snarled. With that she turned to leave but
halted half way to the door. “Will you be joining myself, Tommen and Myrcella
for lunch? Or would you rather spend it with your friend king kong?”
The only thought to pass through Jaime's mind was this is going to be one hell
of a long day.
                                        
                                     XXXX
 
 It was early evening and the sun had only just set leaving its warmth
lingering in the air, burnt oranges and delicate pinks still clung to the
horizon and not a single cloud littered the sky. Pe tyr had promised his
beautiful young wolf prawn linguine for dinner since it had quickly become her
favourite along with lemon cakes,   since it was warm he'd told her they'd have
strawberries for dessert as well.   That was how the Cleaner found himself in
the store with Sansa by his side holding Tristan, she was clearly nervous but
he didn't think it was good for her to never leave the house except to go to
his brothel.
The store aisles were cold but in a refreshing way that relaxed the muscles and
with the heat of summer outside it was much needed. The prawns had been freshly
caught that morning and Sansa watched as he set them in the cart, she didn't
like being around so many people. At Lion and Stag or his club she could hide
in Petyr's office but in the store there was nowhere to run and that lead to
her just holding onto Tristan in search of comfort; she'd let the raven haired
child hold Copper to give her even more comfort. It wasn't so much crowds she
had a problem with it was the individuals in the crowds. Sansa found herself
ever so thankful to her Master who was patient with her and went round the
store at a meander rather than his normal get what I need and leavespeed.
 Just when Sansa had managed to relax they reached the line to pay, normally
there wasn't one but with it being hot people were probably stocking up on ice
cream and shit they didn't really need. After a few moments of standing there
waiting and old woman joined the line behind them. For a moment Sansa felt
boxed in but after a couple of deep breaths she managed to silence her surge of
panic, just having her Master there beside her helped,   she even smiled a
little when he pulled a pack of gum from the shelf behind her and threw it in
with everything else; he always smelt and tasted of mint.
“Damn it.” He suddenly said braking the quietude. “I forgot your strawberries.”
“I... I'll get them, I know where they are.”
 Petyr raised a surprised eyebrow at that, she'd been nervous the entire time
she'd spent in the store and yet wanted to go off on her own to get
strawberries. Half of her reasoning was that she wanted to be brave while the
other half came from wanting to please her Master.
“You sure?”
 If Sansa thought she could do it he wouldn't stop her, it would give her
confidence.
“Yes, I can do it.”   I want to be brave,    most would think going to get
something they'd forgotten was nothing but to Sansa it was a huge step. “
Would you hold him?”
 Petyr took the boy and watched as Sansa walked away out of sight, she was so
determined and he was proud of his girl,   even though he could hear her
counting each step separating them.   Sansa was dangerous and intelligent, the
sooner she realised that the better.   Tristan clung to his father's chest like
he usually did and started to doze off into sleep,   suddenly Petyr's attention
was pulled away from the raven haired, blue eyed boy and down to the old woman
behind him.
“Your son is so very handsome.” She told him. “Hello Sweetheart.”
 The line was rather long and Petyr didn't want to stand there with the woman
grumbling at him about how people were polite in her day and found himself
flashing her a smile. No one could resist the Petyr Baelish trademark grin.
“Yes, he is.” Came the flat response.
 The old woman wore a lilac dress with a matching cardigan and black kitten
heels but Petyr paid no attention to any of that.
 “What is this angel's name?” She asked with the sort of accent one could only
get from Dorne.
 Petyr really didn't want to continue the conversation but he carried on just
to avoid her moaning at him until he had paid.
“His name is Tristan.” Surly this old woman could see the younger man didn't
want to speak to her.
“Oh what a lovely name, it suits him. He looks like you too.” She continued to
smile at his son. I seriously doubt that,thought Petyr with a huff. “And what
is your daughter's name?”
“What?”
 Petyr was genuinely confused but lost all interest in the old woman when Sansa
returned and set down the box of fresh strawberries with a soft smile, his
heart surged with pride. Suddenly the lilac coated woman's question clicked in
his head,  she thinks Sansa's my daughter,  that made him grin smugly and the
CFO decided to see what sort of a response he could get from the aged woman
from Dorne.
“Thank you, Sweetling.” Sansa seemed pleased with herself. “Here, hold ourson.”
 Sansa took Tristan and accepted the gentle press of her Master's lips, over
her shoulder Petyr watched as the woman's eyes widened in shock and he could
practically hear her thoughts.  She's too young for him! She's a teenager! And
that baby boy, how old was she? Petyr stifled a laugh and carried on with his
evening.
Chapter End Notes
     Sorry this chapter is so short but I split a chapter in half because
     it was so long. The next half is longer. Also, the shopping scene was
     something I thought of at work a few days ago and it amused, hence
     the chapter split.
***** Burn My Mark *****
Petyr had been working peacefully in his office for most of the morning, he'd
gotten to work before the sun came up and had quickly started typing and going
over the inner workings of Lion and Stag Enterprises before everyone else
showed up; he worked best when there wasn't twenty people moving around outside
his office door. When Gwendolyn had arrived she'd brought him a cup of coffee
and soon after she brought his mail too, she'd cut her hair over the weekend he
noticed, it now cuddled her face in a bob; I like your hair it suits you.Petyr
was actually entirely indifferent about her new haircut but he complemented her
anyway and it had made her smile, always complement your assistant,he thought,
keeps them loyal and happy.Gwendolyn was like his own personal Varys, she knew
everything that went on in the office but unlike his bald co-worker she told
him without even knowing it. Petyr knew Hannah, Twyin's assistant until his
death, was having sex with Amatus from legal; had been for some time, of course
his wife didn't know that. Myranda from reception had become Ramsay's new
sadistic plaything, Vincentas Lowe in accounting had drug addiction while
Yannick Moyer in the mail room had developed a gambling ptoblem as of late.
There were so many people hiding who they were at Lion and Stag; Hannah,
Amatus, Myranda, Vincentas and Yannick were just the tip of the iceberg.
The clock had just struck noon when the Cleaner's silence was broken by
Gwendolyn's voice drifting through the little silver intercom box.
“Mister Baelish,JaimeLannister is here to see you.”
Petyr leaned over his desk and pushed the little black button quickly.
“Send him in.”
Any other Lannister would have just barged in but not Jaime, he was polite most
of the time. Tyrion was the only noble lion there was no matter how much he
denied it, but that didn't mean Jaime didn't try and aspire to be better; that
was noble in itself.
“Baelish, I need to speak to you.” Said the blonde man as soon as Petyr's
office door was closed behind him.
The Lannister wore black slacks and a white shirt under his usual dark reddish
brown leather jacket, he'd never been one for suit jackets and ties.
“I assumed, otherwise you're in the wrong office.” Finally Petyr looked up to
meet the taller man's eyes.
Jaime brushed the CFO's sarcasm off and got back to the point after running a
hand through his hair.
“Now that Father is gone we will be making a few changes to the staff-” Baelish
cut him off.
“No, Cersei is making changes to the staff.” Petyr grinned. “Shall I start
packing my bags?”
The dark-haired man nearly laughed at that, they'd never be able to get rid of
him especially now that Tywin was gone.
“You're safe for now.” Jaime flashed him a charming smirk. “It's Pycelle, he's
stuck in the past. It's time he left.”
“By stuck in the pastdo you mean he knows too much about the otherbusiness
Tywin loved so much? Pycelle does have a hard time keeping his mouth shut. I'm
strprised he's stayed quiet this long.”
“Got it in one.” Jaime sighed, he wasn't cut out for running Lion and Stag no
matter how much he lied to himself. “I haven't told Cersei yet but Father's
side line is going to crash, without him no one wants to sell to us anymore. I
don't blame them and I'm actually glad.”
There was silence for a second while Petyr leaned back in his chair and the
Lannister stared off into space thinking of Gods only knew what.
“You and Tyrion never liked your father's secondary trade.” It wasn't a
question. “It was Tywin's world and Cersei wanted to inherit it all, Joffrey as
well.”
The blonde pushed thoughts of his son away.
“When it goes under - because it will go under - I want you to make sure none
of it comes back to bite us. Cersei will ask you to fix it, to bring it back,
please don't.”
“Already on it, and Cersei can't make me do something I don't want to do. As
for Pycelle do you want him; fired, forced to take retirement or dead?” Petyr
asked with no more emotion than if he were asking Jaime what he thought about
the weather. “Your choice.”
“Retirement. There's been too much death around her and it's starting to gain
attention from the press and police.” Petyr couldn't argue with that. “I'll
have Varys look into having him replaced.”
“It will be nice to finally get rid of that blithering idiot, but if it's
retirement surly you should do it? You're CEO, or maybe Varys what with HR
being his department.”
“But you are still acting CEO, if I don't have to talk to Pycelle I won't.”
Ah, make me do the tasks you don't want.
 “I'd rather kill him, but I see your point. There has been more death in this
company in the last year than in the last decade. Stannis had a heart attack.”
Tywin had me poison him.“Renley died in that gay bar shooting.” That one
actually wasn't me or the Lannisters.“I hoped everything was done with Robert's
accident.” Maybe Jaime doesn't know about Stannis but he can't be sonaïvewhen
it comes to Robert.“With this company there will always be death. If something
or someone got in your father's way he would have me clean it up, now your
sister will seek the same. Though there will be less now the girls, drugs and
guns are gone.”
“I never liked the girls.” Came the blonde's quick response. “Some of them are
Myrcella's age or younger.”
“People think differently when it's their daughter.”
“Yeah.” Muttered the blonde completely unaware of what he'd just admitted to.
Suddenly his mind snapped back. “Deal with Pycelle.”
The Lannister was gone just seconds later shutting the door behind him rather
than slamming it, leaving Baelish in peace. Staff was Varys' job but Varys took
his time while Petyr worked quicker and more precise; like a scalpel.  If you
want to know a secret go to Varys, he'll tell you for a price. If you want
something doing then come to me, I'll fuck you over and take it for myself.
Pycelle was old and should have retired years ago, however he did know what he
was doing when it came to illegal operations. Yet, if Jaime intended to let the
illegal business fall apart then Pycelle had just become obsolete and Petyr
would take great pleasure in getting rid of him.  Jaime didn't seem to have
death in mind for Pycelle but once he was gone and a few months had passed by
Cersei would see to it, she wouldn't use Baelish though, no, she'd have a
little heart attack planned for him like the Lannisters had arranged for
Stannis Baratheon all those years ago. There was no way Cersei would let the
old twat talk. If she didn't Petyr would, he was so very close to having utter
control of Lion and Stag, he wouldn't let Pycelle fuck it up.  The plan he'd
worked years on would not go up in flames because of that old idiot.
Petyr set aside  the finances he'd been working on for most of the day and set
to print out everything he needed to legally force Pycelle into retirement.  It
didn't take long and soon enough he had all he needed,  Baelish did a double
check in his head and then  went to his assistants desk.
“Gwendolyn, you can go home once I come back.”
“But it's early, sir.” She seemed confused.
“I know but it is your son's birthday.” He didn't overly care about that but he
really needed his assistant on side for the last leg of taking the company.
“You remembered.” Gwendolyn smiled up at him, beamed was probably a better
word.
“I did, and I'll be back."
He didn't wait for her to say anything else Petyr just wandered the halls
towards the CLO's office. It didn't take him more than a minute to get there
and he found the old idiot's assistant sat at her desk looking rather
depressed; anyone who spent an extended period of time with Pycelle was.
Baelish didn't speak to her, didn't look at her, he just pushed the office door
open and went inside.  The white haired man with a beard that looked as though
it belonged in the dark ages sat writing some kind of letter,  the CFO didn't
care about that though he just walked straight up to Pycelle's desk and slammed
the form down before him.
“Sign it.” Was all Petyr said.
Pycelle's aged eyes scanned over the paper but he already knew what it said,
he'd seen so many forms like the one before him in his time.
“Retirement? But-” Petyr cut him off with a raised hand.
“You've served this company for many years. Everyone hits their stride...
unfortunately you hit yours fifty years ago.” Petyr allowed a smug grin to coat
his features. “This isn't my idea, Jaime decided this and retirement is more
than reasonable.”
“You mean Cersei decided.” Pycelle growled. “The bitch.”
Petyr raised an amused eyebrow.
“Yes, now sign and leave with your dignity or what's left of it.”
“Or what?”
The older man tried to sound strong but Petyr was hard to spook. Smugness
erupted on his face and Petyr fell into his sarcastic Littlefinger persona.
“Are you suggesting I'd hurt you?” He asked with false incredulity, a hand
resting on his chest in fake outrage. “Pycelle I'm utterly shocked. No, no, no
I'd never hurt you.” Sarcasm practically dripped from him.
“Fuck you Baelish!”
“I'm good thanks.” Petyr had endured enough of Pycelle. “Sign.”
Pycelle wasn't entirely stupid, he knew just how dangerous Baelish really was
and he wouldn't anger him when there was no one to run and hide with.
Reluctantly Pycelle signed the form.
“This is a mistake, Baelish. You know the stort of law I deal with, what I do
for Lion and Stag. You need me-”
“Well, now you can slow down and spend more time putting your feet up in my
brothel. In fact, since I'm such a nice person, I'll let you have Ros free for
an hour. Would that easy your gaping wounds?”
The old man raised an eyebrow of interest and was a little worried that Baelish
would hear his heart thumping around his ribcage.
“It might.”
Petyr laughed.
“Good. I'll have Ros wet, ready and waiting for you. Bye now.”
The younger man didn't wait for a response, he just picked up the signed form
with still wet ink and left to go back to his own office. The fifty-first floor
of Lion and Stag was abuzz with the motions of the day, people going this way
and that, off to photocopy something or fetch coffee for their boss'.
When Petyr reached his office door he found Gwendolyn had finished typing up
his letters, had packed away her things and her bag sat on the desk before her.
“Thank you Gwendolyn. You can go now.”
The Cleaner made to re-enter his office and return to work but found himself
coming to a halt in the doorway when his blonde assistant began to speak.
“Em, Sir?” Petyr turned to face her and watched as she pulled a sky blue bag
from under her desk. “I got this for you, well, your son.”
That got Petyr's attention and he calmly took the blue bag from her, there was
white tissue paper hiding whatever was inside.
“The girls normally have a baby shower but no one knew about your son so I just
got him a little something.” She continued. “I hope Tristan will like it.”
Petyr didn't much care for this sort of thing but he still needed Gwendolyn on
his side, couldn't have her telling anyone anything about what he did, his
routines. That was why Baelish put on a content smile and opened the present,
inside was a white bear with a red plaid bow.
“That's very kind, thank you Gwendolyn. I'm sure my son will love it.”
“I really hope he does. Bye, Mister Baelish.”
He watched as Gwendolyn vanished off towards the elevators while thinking about
his hatred for work colliding with his personal life, he knew she was just
trying to be nice but that didn't make it any less annoying.
                                        
                                     XXXX
                                        
The room was red like the blood Ramsay always insisted on forcing Reek to shed,
everything remained silent in the sound proofed basement and Reek didn't dare
break that. Reek had been chained to a black St Andrew's cross in the far
corner of the room with Ramsay stood shirtless behind him with a whip in hand
for a good half an hour. The dark-haired sadistic man had been angry ever since
he got home from Lion and Stag, the former heir to Iron Isle Shipping had no
idea why but it seemed to be his fault anyway. The long whip slapped down
against Reek's naked form, sometimes the back, sometimes his ass or thighs,
everything hurt and the bruised slave couldn't tell where they struck anymore.
“I've had enough Reek!” The whip smackeddown again. “I really have.”
Smack.“That little slut is mine and Baelish is playing happy-fucking-families
with her.” Smack.“I won her!”
There was one last loud slap that echoed off the walls and then Ramsay finally
set the whip aside and let Reek breath for a moment or two, the slaves heart
surged with panic again at the sound of Ramsay's belt clicking open and his
black pants falling to the floor; Ramsay was never gentle.
“At the end of the week father wants me to go with him to the cabin so we can
hunt.” Whimpers of pain leaked from Reek's lips as his Master forced his way
into his exhausted body. He could feel warm blood start to drip down his
thighs. “I'll take you andthe bitch with me. I've had enough waiting and
watching. And when she's mine I'll fuck her, you can watch.” Ramsay's thrusts
were fast, sharp and painful. “Would you like that?” The man formerly known as
Theon pulled at his bonds but it was no use. “You can pretend it's you filling
her with your cock. I'll fuck her fast for you.”
Ramsay's thrusts grew faster and faster as his climax approached and the drips
of blood along Reek's thighs turned to a gentle stream.
“If you're good...” Ramsay let out a deep moan. “... when I'm done with her
I'll fuck you too. Only if you're good though.”
Suddenly Ramsay came pulling painfully on Reeks long brown-red curls and the
slave desperately tried not to cry. All his dignity was long gone, his manhood,
even his personality was fading.
“I'm going to have to get a second St Andrew's cross aren't I?” Ramsay asked
rhetorically before pulling out of his slave. “You two can't share, I could
whip you both at the same time. Ooh what a work out!” He grinned maniacally.
 
There was silence for a long time while Ramsay wiped away himself of Reeks
cherry red blood, the slave tried to breath and banish what had just happened
from his mind but it was futile, those horrors would never leave him.
“Reek...” Ramsay almost sang the word.
“Yes, Master,” He managed to reply.
“I gave you a new name, do you like it?Reek.”
Reek audibly gulped and his Master just found it amusing, Ramsay wasn't looking
at him and paid little attention and instead decided to scroll through his
phone. He sadistic Bolton still wanted an answer though and his pet knew it.
“Yes, Master.” No! No, you crazy fucker! Of course not!
“Good.” Came the quick answer. “Do you think my new plaything would like a new
name? Joffrey called her Petbut I'm thinking of calling her Redon account of
all that long pullable hair, but I'm sure a name will present itself. My Mother
always told me not to name my dogs until I knew their personality.” Ramsay
reached for a knife and set it down in the hot coals he always kept burning in
a dark pit that called the centre of the room home. “Now, I'm going to need you
to hold still so I can burn my mark into you. I want to practice for the whore,
and if you make me fuck this up I'll cover it in salt.”
There was no meaning to those words, Ramsay would salt it anyway. You sadistic
fuck, thought Theon. He refused to loose his mind, he'd get back to his father
and sister.
He would.
***** A Nice Warm Shower *****
Chapter Notes
     Since it's Christmas I'm posting today and giving you guys TWO
     chapters as a little gift from me to you. The second will be added
     first thing xmas morning.
When Petyr pulled into the driveway and silenced his Aston Martin DB5's engine
all he wanted to do was kiss Sansa and go to bed. With Lion and Stag's audit
coming up the accounts department had been working overtime and everything had
to go through Petyr to be verified, Olyvar and Ros had been running the club
for him and with Pycelle now gone Baelish would have to go over legal as well
to make sure the old idiot hadn't filed the illegal activities at the company.
It was safe to say that Petyr was utterly exhausted but that hadn’t stopped him
sitting in the driveway for a good fifteen minutes thinking about how to remain
on top of the situation.
Finally he stepped into the house leaving behind the cold air but came to an
abrupt halt upon seeing his girl stood by the door, a glass of whiskey in one
hand with Petyr's cigarettes and lighter in the other. Petyr dropped the sky
blue bag Gwendolyn had given him to his feet.
“Oh Sweetling, you are perfect.”
Sansa grinned as her Master shut the door behind him then took the cigarettes
and quickly lit one, shoving the lighter into his pocket. After a few deep
breaths of nicotine he took the glass and indulged in a large gulp.
“Better, Master?” The redhead asked with a light tone.
“Yes. Much better, thank you Sweetling.” Sansa seemed pleased at that, she'd
made her Master happy.
“You've been sitting in your car for a while, which means you're stressed.”
Clever girl.“I already put Tristan to bed.”
The mention of their adopted son flashed his mind back to the bag he'd dropped,
Petyr bent to pick it up with the hand that held his cigarette and passed it to
Sansa.
“This is for him.”
The man with stormy eyes and grey at his temples took a drag as he watched her
push white tissue paper out the way revealing the bear. Her azure eyes lit up
though her Master never saw it, never would, and the apples of her cheeks rose
in a delicate smile.
“Thank you Master, it's wonderful.”
“Don't thank me.” Said Petyr taking another long sip of whiskey. “It's from my
assistant, Gwendolyn.”
Sansa seemed a little surprised at that, she wasn't used to strangers being in
any way nice to her or Tristan but she recovered quickly.
“Will you thank her for me?” Her tone was a tad curious.
“Sure.” He replied readily. “Now on a different note, I'm not cooking because
it's late and I can't be bothered. Do you want left over lasagne?”
“I'm not hungry.” Sansa looked down to her stomach. “And I'm getting fat.”
Petyr chuckled at that.
“You're not fat, Sweetling. You're healthy, it took all year, but you are.” He
pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And good because I'm not hungry either.”
The Cleaner took a drag of his cigarette and felt his body relax as the drug
filled his lungs, when he released the smoke it was in a perfect ring that
Sansa couldn't help watching.
“Why...” She cut herself off and just looked back down to the bear.
“What is it?” Moss colored eyes travelled over his girl's pale face. “You know
you can tell me anything. Ask me anything.”
She didn't need to be afraid of Petyr, he had appointed himself her protector.
Sansa was the one person who would never suffer the damage of Littlefinger.
“Why do you smoke? It's not like what old Ma-Joffrey smoked.” The redhead knew
her Master didn’t like being associated with Joffrey. “That smelt horrible.”
Sansa pulled a face of disgust remembering the foul stench of the blonde's
bedroom on weekends, a mix of drugs, beer, junk food and rape. Petyr watched
the way her nose crinkled and thought it adorable but the memories that haunted
her were not lost on him.
“I smoke because I'm addicted, which is a result of stress at a young age and
because teens want to look cool.” Petyr told her calmly before wrapping his
lips back around his half gone cigarette.
“Can I try?”
Baelish raised an eyebrow at her question since he'd not expected it, she'd
never shown any interest in smoking before and he knew that she didn't really
like the smell, that was why he'd taken to smoking on his patio rather than in
the house. What he didn't know was that Sansa actually rather enjoyed the taste
of whiskey and smoke on his tongue when they kissed. His girl wasn't a child
though and if she wanted to try it he wouldn't stop her.
“Alright, here you go.”
He handed over the almost gone cigarette and watched as she brought it up to
her lips with eager anticipation. As soon as she drew in the smoke it burnt her
lungs and throat causing his angel to cough, she would have dropped the
cigarette had he not been prepared and taken it back with a light hearted
laugh; a laugh that actually reached his eyes.
“I don't think smoking is for you, Sweetling.” Sansa got her breath back. “What
do you say we take a shower and then bed?”
“To.. together?”
“Yes, Sweetling. I've never had you in the shower. Go upstairs and get the
water running, have your clothes off by the time I get up there.”
“Okay, Master.”
Sansa felt no fear about him touching her, taking her clothes off for him or
the act of sex anymore because it was sex and not rape. Somehow she'd managed
to build some kind of mental wall between the two and Petyr was proud of her
for it; just goes to show how strong she really is.Sometimes Baelish wondered
if he should phrase things differently rather than letting them be easily
interpreted as orders but the commands made his ego happy. However, he didn't
need to worry because Sansa didn't seem to do as he asked out of fear for the
consequences but because it was himasking her; because she wanted to.
Petyr finally finished his cigarette as Sansa padded up the stairs with her
bare feet letting the bear hand from her left hand and he stubbed it out in the
ashtray that sat on a small table by the door. With one hand he started to open
the buttons of his shirt while the other tipped the last of the amber liquid
into his mouth before the glass found itself almost thrown at the table with
his Mockingbird statue on it, leather clad feet carried him up the stairs and
as he approached the master bedroom the sound of running water filled his ears.
Petyr looked down the hallway just in time to see Lady's tale vanishing into
Tristan's bedroom, that dog always kept an eye on the boy.
Inside his room he found Sansa naked as the day she was born just like he'd
told her to be and his body twitched in arousal, she was so beautiful, he
almost growled as he kicked off his shoes. His red-haired girl walked over to
him and started to rid him of his bespoke clothing like it was some kind of sin
to ware clothes. He wanted to see her cerulean eyes but forcing her would spoil
the mood, she'd give him eye contact when she was ready, that was a thought for
another day though, tonight was just to be about him, her and that hot shower.
He pulled her into the shower and moaned in delight when the water tumbled over
her nipples, soaping up a wash cloth he ran it over her delicate thighs in
teasing circles that he knew she loved. She'd come so far and that made the
experience of having her all the more special, no one had ever heard moans of
sexual delight from her but him. Only him, and only he ever would. Soon enough
all thoughts of actually getting clean had vanished from Petyr's brain and he
just wanted her, the wash cloth fell to the floor in favour of his piano like
fingers slipping into her wet heat; his girl moaned.
“That's my baby girl.”
His lips found her nipples and showered them with attention until she had to
grip onto him to avoid her legs giving way. She was only just shorter than him
without shoes and Petyr found that was the perfect height to kiss her at, she
tasted sweet as usual but there was a backdrop of smoke on her tongue too that
made him grin; she was his and now she tasted like it too. Her moans grew in
volume until he covered her mouth with his, swallowing them down until she came
from nothing but his fingers.
“Master!”
Oh how his ego liked that, it wasn't enough though, he needed to be inside her,
needed to feel her panting into his neck. That was how he found himself
pressing her into the cold tiles and picking her up so she could wrap her legs
around his waist, maybe not the safest position what with all the water but who
the fuck cared at that point? Her nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to
leave little bruises that Petyr would adore and her body had flushed the color
of her hair. He kissed his girl deeper sliding his tongue into her mouth while
lining himself up with her entrance, Sansa was right, she was getting a little
chubby around the middle but that was a sign of a good diet rather than being
fat like she feared. With another deep kiss he filled her to the hilt and
halted to let his angel adjust, her eyes fluttered shut and he gulped down
another of her intoxicating moans. Her body was tight, wet and inviting,
everything Petyr couldn't resist; not that he tried very hard.
“Please move.” She begged.
He was proud that she'd grown enough confidence to ask that of him, to enjoy
having him inside her but that wasn't what Baelish was thinking about as he
pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into his Sansa.
“Master.” The word was breathless.
Petyr felt his hard member twitch and throb at that one simple word, her tone
dripping in honey. His thumb circled her sex pushing her slowly closer and
closer towards the edge. The redhead let out a loud whimper and she didn't care
is anyone heard her, which was highly unlikely since her Master's house was
pretty much in the middle of nowhere.
“That's my Sweetling.”
Sansa gripped his shoulders so forcefully that she was sure he'd be bleeding by
the time they were done, then again Sansa's brain didn't much care at that
point in time. She felt her blood boil and her body vibrate, his breath ghosted
over her pale skin teasing her nerve endings while water dripped over her
heated skin. His other large hand slipped up to cup her breast and another moan
tumbled from her lips, in seconds he had the nipple standing to attention.
Sansa arched into his touch and Petyr had to quickly shuffle his feet to avoid
them both crashing to the wet floor.
His breath came shallow and fast as he watched the muscles of Sansa's stomach
twitch and contract, her body showing just how desperate for more it was when
her hips settled into a hard determined grind against his own. Her climax came
into sight and Sansa knew the cliff she stood on was slippery and there was
nothing to cling onto save for her lover's strong shoulders. His torment didn't
let up, hips thrusting desperatly against hers, rhythm falling apart as pure
need took over. Suddenly the eruption happened and Sansa fell of the edge of
the cliff and plunged into the euphoric waters below.
“Master!”
She screamed as she came for a second time and her Master wasn't far behind,
two more thrust and he came hard, his face resting against her neck with her
name on his lips. They just stood there for a time while they got their breath
back, bodies still connected and trembling in utter bliss. When Baelish's arms
couldn't support his girl any longer he set her softly on the ground, the sound
of running water still filled their ears and Sansa managed to pull her arms bag
and start to actually wash herself. Petyr watched her for a moment and then did
the same. When Sansa was done she kissed her Master and stepped out into the
bathroom, Petyr watched her though the frosted glass while she dried her hair.
The water shut off just as Sansa finished drying off and he stepped out
wrapping a fluffy white towel around his slender waist, his redhead muttered
something about checking on Tristan and left the room.
Petyr towelled his dark hair until dry but didn't bother combing it, his hair
was always a mess in the mornings no matter what he did. Going into his large
bedroom decorated rich silver-grey and hand carved furniture, from his dresser
he pulled a pair of navy sleep pants and slid them on quickly before hanging
the now wet towel up to dry. When he returned from the bathroom once more Sansa
sat in their bed waiting for him, he liked that it was now theirbed and
thinking about it she'd not slept in her own bed for a good few months. Petyr
climbed into his side of the bed and pulled the redhead to him, pressing her
back to his chest. In the dark and peaceful quiet the two found sleep.
                                        
                                     XXXX
 
After days of avid thought the CFO finally came up with a way of getting Cersei
Lannister  out of  his  company and also make her suffer for all she'd put
Sansa through,  without killing her. There had been too much death around Lion
and Stag as of late and it was starting to get suspicious not only to reporters
but to the police; Petyr had enough to deal with without them getting involved.
No, Cersei had to live but her life would be like that of Kaegan Irelan, full
of misery. Now Pycelle was in forced retirement he had to work quickly to shut
Tywin's illegal activities down just like Jaime wanted, it wouldn't benefit
Petyr so he'd shut it down though it would anger the lioness. Pycelle could be
dealt with later but with his plan entering its final stage Cersei took
precedence.  The beautiful lioness was the last obstacle in his path while
Jaime was the finish line.
Everyone knew Cersei was volatile and acted on impulse more than anything else,
he needed to have her  blow up and pretty publicly to have the desired effect,
after all that had happened it would be blamed on stress. The drug he'd chosen
would fade from her system before anyone could test her and if all went to plan
she'd be taken to a mental health facility for twenty-four hour watch, since
there were only two in the imitate area it hadn't taken long for Petyr to get a
man in each one; well one was a woman. Cersei would be hopped up at regular
intervals and no one would be any the wiser, money could buy even the most
noble man if there was enough of it. The issue was getting the first dose into
her without her or anyone else noticing.
Petyr had some more thinking to do.
***** The Lioness Falls *****
Chapter Notes
     Here is chapter two, Merry Christmas!
 
Drugging Cersei Lannister proved to be far harder than Petyr had first
believed, he needed Cersei to react publicly rather than at Lion and Stag; if
it happened there Jaime would easily cover it up. If it was to be his company
Baelish needed the lioness on the front page; there is such a thing as bad
publicity.In the end Petyr decided her favourite restaurant would be the best
bet, most of the staff there already hated her and finding a waiter willing to
do the deed was surprisingly easy; seemed they really hated the female
Lannister.
Claudio was the name of said waiter, had brought Cersei her normal glass of
champagne on Tuesday evening – the day reserved for Jaime and his sister to
have dinner together every week – and waited for her to drink it down which
hadn't taken long; the woman with golden hair could drink like a fish and swear
like a sailor. She'd been happily enjoying her meal with Jaime talking about
everything from Lion and Stag to the children they shared, Tommen and Myrcella
wanted to visit Dorne but the lioness had no intention of letting them. Jaime
felt sorry for those children some times, Cersei could be over protective to
the point of suffocating them. Maybe he could convince his sister to let Tommen
and Myrcella take the trip, if she'd give in to anyone it would be her brother.
Jaime had opened his mouth to say just that to Cersei but the words dies on his
tongue when a dimwitted waiter crashed into her almost covering his sister with
the tray of pasta he was carrying.
"What is wrong with you! Moron!" She screamed pulling the attention of everyone
around her.
"I'm so sorry, Madam." Said the brunette waiter, apologising profusely.
No one noticed him pull the empty champagne glass from the table.
"It's alright." Jaime told him trying to calm the situation before Cersei
gutted the poor man.
Claudio fled as quickly as possible and threw the glass into the dumper out
back before anyone saw anything, knowing she'd soon reach for her champagne he
raced through the kitchen, got a new champagne flute and filled it. Nervous
feet carried him back to the Lannister table.
"My apologies, Madam." He told her politely. "Another glass of Louis Roederer
cristal for you."
Cersei grabbed the glass and glared at Claudio until the brunette backed away
from the table, she was getting confrontational – more than usual – and he
suspected the drug was kicking in. Jaime uttered a thank youas Claudio left but
it was clear from his tone and his blue eyes that he was more focused on his
sister, something wasn't right with her.
XXXX
Petyr sat in his office at Lion and Stag reading his newspaper and gloating
about his success with the Vice President, Claudio had reported back to him by
proxy and it seemed the drug had worked wonders on her, the paper had a
photograph of the restaurant with an ambulance outside and Petyr wished he
could have been there. The paper had no mention of Lion and Stag Enterprises
beyond the obvious Cersei Lannister is the current VP for...and the company has
suffered many losses in the last year. Nothing that in anyway tarnished Lion
and Stag's reputation further, all in all it was a job well done and Petyr
could move on with his final phase. Petyr would pay his inside woman to
sporadically drug Cersei keeping her in a major depressive episode and soon
enough the insomnia would kick in leaving her mind to dwell on the horrors
she'd caused his girl, the Cleaner grinned like the Cheshire cat.
Suddenly there was a knock at his door and Petyr was forced to school his
expression, he called out for whomever it was to come in and Gwendolyn quickly
appeared at his desk, he folded the paper down just enough so he could see her
over the top. She set his rather large stack of mail down while looking at the
newspaper.
"Such a tragedy." She said with true emotion. "The stress must have gotten to
her, poor thing."
"Yes, terrible." Came his rehearse reply.
"Can't blame her though, first her son and now her father. Jaime spends so much
time travelling."
Oh where did I put my violin? Petyr leaned forwards and set the paper aside to
finish later, Gwendolyn seemed off in her little word of concern for those
around her but this was a multimillion dollar company not a grief counsellor
meeting and he quickly put a stop to it.
"Could you have Hugo Jenrette come to my office please, Gwendolyn? I want to
know what he's written on this report, it's utterly illegible."
"Yes Sir, of course."
Gwendolyn left shutting the door quietly behind herself and went to do as her
boss had asked, meanwhile Petyr grinned and calmly muttered to himself wearing
his Littlefinger mentality.
"Everything is going exactly as I planned."
Thanks to the recent issueswith Cersei her brother had been preoccupied leaving
Petyr in control of the company and some of the lower staff were starting to
grow used to it, things got sent directly to Baelish rather than it being sent
to Jaime's office and forcing his assistant Hannah, the former assistant to
Tywin, to ferry it about. Petyr already ran Lion and Stag, all that was left to
do was make it legal. A little longer and I'll have everything; Sansa, the CEO
throne – but of course I'll have to change the name over time – and I even have
Tristan.Petyr loathed to admit it but he was starting to actually care for the
boy. With thoughts of Sansa filling his mind, long red hair and pale skin like
snow, he started to think about when he got home.
"I'll cook." He decided after only a few seconds. "Then bathe her, she seems to
like that. And then I'll fuck her."
His ego grinned, and that was exactly what happened that night.
XXXX
At three o'clock Friday afternoon Baelish had found himself neck deep in
finance reports for the first quarter, his grey-green eyes stung from having
spent so long staring at the tiny numbers that coated each page but most days
he was like that. His navy suit jacket had been banished to the back of his
chair hours ago leaving him in only his matching slacks, waistcoat and black
shirt, he didn't often ware a waistcoat but boy did he look good in one. It had
been four hours since his last cigarette and only when the clock behind him on
the shelf chimed did he realise that was how long had passed, he was just about
to stand and take a much needed break when his office door opened revealing
Varys who wore an unreadable face as usual. Their eyes met.
"Yes?"
"Jaime has just arrived, he wants to speak to all of us. Now."
No official meeting had been called but still Petyr pushed aside thoughts of a
cigarette break and maybe getting more coffee in favour of following the CHRO
along the dark red-gold halls to Jaime's office. As they entered stormy eyes
saw Jaime and Brienne were already there along with the CTO, Athelstan Creed,
and a few other executives. The CMO, Chief Marketing Officer, Hoyt Montgomery
and Ulf Pellegrino the CNO or Chief Networking office – who had been after
Baelish's job for as long as he could remember – chatted away to one another
like not one could hear them.
Jaime looked drained, there were black circles under his eyes and though his
hair was clean it hadn't been brushed. Petyr internally grinned, if that was
how Jaime looked he could only imagine Cersei. Everyone's attention fell to the
blonde CEO as he shuffled in his seat and opened his mouth to speak but as he
did the door opened and the CSO, Roose Bolton and his son stepped inside. Jaime
took a breath and went back to what he was trying to say.
"As you all know thanks to the newspapers, my sister suffered what can only be
described as a breakdown caused by stress, I'm not really surprised. Anyway,
after much thought and discussion with doctors I have decided it would be best
for her to remain at the mental health facility for the foreseeable future so
as she can recover."
"She can't have been happy about that." Said a deep voice belonging to Ulf
Pellegrino.
"She wasn't, no." Jaime told the room truthfully. "Because of this she'll be
stepping down as Vice President of the company. I think it was the new position
of VP that pushed her over the edge."
Petyr chuckled to himself and Varys was the only one to notice though he didn't
look at the CFO. It could have been stress but I think it's more likely down to
a well paid waiter, me and champagne.If he'd been a teenager he'd have tagged
his thoughts with #SmugFace. Petyr's amusement came to an abrupt end though
when he felt eyes on him, it was a little unsettling and could have only been
Ramsay Bolton; the Cleaner tried to push that aside for the time being. Jaime
continued.
"With Cersei's departure we will once again be without an official VP and I
will be doing all in my power to help my sister, meaning Baelish will remain in
charge until I return although Brienne has kindly agreed to become acting Vice
President for a short time." Everyone's eyes travelled to the only woman in the
room then back to a sleep deprived Jaime. "She'll run everything she deems
relevant through me."
Petyr could live with that for a while, Brienne would surly follow the
Lannister when he got rid of him. She was no threat to him.
"Of course." Said Petyr with an unreadable expression. "I would be glad of the
help."
Brienne offered him a light smile as though she believed his words; she didn't.
"Varys, with the amount of staff changes we've had recently the press is
beginning to question our ability. Silence those rumours." The lion yawned.
"Very well. Shall I also begin a search for a new VP?" The bald man's voice was
calm and to the point.
"Don't bother, Baelish and Brienne can cope for now. We'll deal with that when
everything has calmed down."
Suddenly Athelstan Creed piped up and the room of executives tilted their heads
to look at the old man.
"I'll have her removed from our system."
"Why?" The golden haired lion snapped without meaning to.
"If she's as stressed as you say..." He chose his words so carefully. "... then
we don't want her accidentally letting anyone into our system, Sir." Athelstan
regretted speaking now.
"Cersei wouldn't-"
He was quickly cut off by Brienne who rested a hand on his shoulder, Jaime
slumped down into his chair.
"They're just trying to be cautious, Jaime. Leave Lion and Stag to Mister
Baelish..." Petyr's lips upturned. "... and myself. You worry about Cersei."
"You're right, Brienne. Usually are." Everyone could hear him calm as he spoke,
Brienne seemed to have a naturally soothing affect on him.
Petyr and Varys saw Athelstan Creed gearing up for another round of questioning
and stupid sentences that Pycelle would have been proud of and put a stop to
it. Petyr began to speak while Varys moved to stand in front of the CTO
effectivly bannishing him from the conversation.
"Alright if there is nothing else I think we're done here. Do I need to remind
you all that we're in the middle of an audit? Get back to work."
Reluctantly everyone obeyed the CFO soon to be CEO and filed out of the room
back to their respective offices, everyone that was except Brienne who offered
her friend a comforting smile. Petyr could see the love she had for Jaime but
that information didn't aid him in that moment and so he ignored it, storing
the knowledge away for later.
"Thank you, Mister Baelish." She told him without looking up.
"Of course." Petyr turned to leave but halted in the doorway and spoke with
false concern. "I hope Cersei feels better soon."
Leaving the large office that Petyr would soon demolish he found the sadistic
blue orbs of Ramsay Bolton staring back at him, the younger man had rested
himself against the opposite wall from Jaime's office door with arms folded
across his chest.
"Hi Baelish." Ramsay greeted in a villainous tone.
The CFO sighed, he didn't have time for Ramsay's crap.
"Is there something I can do for you, Ramsay?" He asked while turning to walk
to his office, the younger man followed.
"I hear you have a niece, a pretty little thing according to Myranda." He
grinned devilishly. "So what's her name?"
"Alayne."
Anyone who thought Joffrey was the worst man in the world clearly hadn't come
across Ramsay-fucking-Bolton.
"Cute.Didn't know you had a brother."
Petyr had no idea why Ramsay was suddenly asking a ton of questions but he had
a few guesses and wouldn't fall out of character.
"I don't." The Cleaner told him stoically. "But I did have a sister. Now, can I
get back to work or would you like to further question me on my family?"
Family?Ramsay thought bitterly. "Maybe you'd like to know my son's full name
and his favourite food? It's Tristan Amyas Baelish and he loves strawberries
just like his mother. Is that everything?"
"I guess." The younger man huffed.
Petyr carried on towards his office where he'd asked Gwendolyn to get him a cup
of coffee leaving Ramsay stood in the hallway looking very out of place in his
black button down and slacks, he looked more like bar staff than security. The
man with blue eyes took a deep breath and got on the elevator headed down to
security, his mind muttering to itself as he went. Alayne, is that what he
called you? I like it but you're mine and I'll pick your name.
Stepping off the elevator onto the ground floor he found the foyer almost
completely empty save for Myranda who was on reception until she spotted him
and raced over. Randa pressed her body close to his and donned a seductive
smile, any other day it would have worked but Ramsay was too lost in his
thoughts.
"Can we play tonight?" She laughed while biting her lip. "Take that slave of
yours and set the dogs on him? It will be fun."
"No." He snarled in a deep and dominant tone.
"Why not?" Her question bordered on whining.
"I'm going with Father to his cabin remember? I did tell you."
"Tell him you got a better offer, it wouldn't be a lie. Or let me come with
you."
Randa tiptoed so as she could kiss his cupids-bow lips, hoping Ramsay would
fall for her seductions; he didn't.
"No." He growled out a second time. "I have things to do so you're going to
have to play with yourself."
With that Ramsay brushed her arms off of himself and took large strides over to
the security office, he was going to get his whore, Alayne,and he was going to
play with her until she was nothing but a pretty pile of ash.
***** Come Play At The Cabin *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The sky had turned stygian by the time Petyr gave in and couldn't take the
sting in his eyes a second longer; he needed to leave, Gwendolyn and everyone
else on the fifty-first floor as well as the rest of the building leaving him
all alone, not that the Cleaner minded. As he shut his office door and started
the short walk towards the mirrored elevators Petyr dialled the cellphone he'd
gifted Sansa what felt like forever ago, she answered on the second ring;
that's my girl prompt as always.
“Hello, Master.” She sounded quieter than usual but her throat wasn't nearly as
raw as when he'd left for work.
“Hi Sweetling.” He greeted in a deep voice. “I'm coming home but I still need
to go to the club. Would you like to come with me or do you still feel ill?”
His darling girl had been feeling unwell for the last few days and nothing
Petyr had tried seemed to help, she didn't seem to be actually sickit was more
like something stress related, but as far as he could tell she was perfectly
content. All her Master could do was hope it passed otherwise he'd have to take
her to the hospital and then she really would be stressed.
“I still don't feel better, Master.” She told him in a soft tone. “I want to go
with you though.”
She'd been cooped up in the house for a while and Baelish reasoned that some
fresh air would do her good. The elevator doors opened and Petyr stepped inside
hitting the ground floor button.
“Alright, Sweetling.” He could hear her smile on the other end of the line and
imagined her azure eyes growing just a little bit brighter. “If you're sure you
are up to leaving the house I'll come and get you.”
“I am, Master.”
Silver doors slipped open to reveal the large marble and green foyer with a
mamoth circular and very vacant reception desk in the centre of the room. Petyr
quickly realised he wasn't alone, behind the black desk was a cleaner emptying
the trash can of its measly contents while over my the security door stood the
balding CSO and his son, Ramsay; Petyr ignored them as he usually did.
“I'll be back in about twenty minutes, then we'll go to my club.” He told his
girl.
Sansa spoke again in that angelic voice he adored, something he thought was bye
Masterbut he couldn't be sure since Roose decided to talk over her while Petyr
walked towards the exit. Both the CSO and Baelish were unaware of the younger
Bolton locking away the snippet of information about Sansa's whereabouts deep
in his sadistic mind.
“Night Baelish.”
Petyr glanced up to the two men after muttering his own byeto the redhead then
hung up and stuffing his cellphone back into his breast pocket.
“Bolton, Bolton junior.”
He said nothing more, wanting to get back to the red spark in his life rather
than engaging in idle chit-chat with two men he despised. Roose nor Ramsay
seemed to care though, they'd gone back to their little conversation which
probably consisted of the daily running of the security department, it never
changed much; at least not until Brienne had shown up with all her positive
ideas. It was safe to say that the CSO had developed a serious dislike for the
tall blonde however, Petyr was growing to enjoy the effect she had on them.
Stepping out into the night air filled him with relief, it was cold and
refreshing with a sharp bite at the very end that reminded him how dangerous
the world really was; a tiny hint that went unnoticed my most. His Aston Martin
roared to life and soon enough Petyr was gliding along the open coastal road
and closer to his Sweetling, the stars were out which was unusual so close to
the city sparkling high up in the celestial heaven without a single cloud to
block them out. He rolled the window down and quickly lit a cigarette blowing
ash colored smoke out the car as it hurtled along. Cold salty sea air filled
the car mixing with rich nicotine causing Petyr to smile, to him the scent of
the ocean was freedom, music filled the air.
                          It started with a low light
                 Next thing I knew they ripped me from my bed
                       And then they took my blood type
                    It left a strange impression in my head
                          You know that I was hoping
               That I could leave this star-crossed world behind
                           But when they cut me open
                         I guess that changed my mind
                             And you know I might
               Have just flown too far from the floor this time
                       'Cause they calling me by my name
                       And the zipping white light beams
                      Disregards the bombs and satellites
                                        
The man with moss colored eyes had been neglecting his club as of late, with
his plan so close to success The Mockingbird had turned into an after thought,
he couldn't leave it that way. He wouldn't let one business fall apart just
because he was stealing another. If he left Oly and Ros fending for themselves
any longer they'd think they had inherited the place, Olyvar would probably be
able to handle it but Ros would grow overly conceited and end up getting
herself killed.
Headlights illuminated his large house with beautiful rich red brickwork, the
lights were on giving his home an almost supernatural glow, he silenced the
Aston Martin's engine and quickly went inside. In Tristan's room was where he
found his sweet little Sansa dressing their son, Petyr hadn't realised just how
quickly babies grew until they'd taken in the raven haired boy. Looking over
her shoulder he could see the child in black jeans and a sky blue t-shirt that
she was in the middle of buttoning up. Baelish snaked his arms around her waist
and breathed in her rich perfumed scent.
“How are you feeling, Sweetheart?” He asked with an air of concern.
“I'm alright, Master. It seemed to stop around midday.” Petyr felt her relax in
his arms as she always did. “I'll hurry up with Tristan for you.”
“No rush, baby girl. I'm going to change.”
Petyr pressed a kiss to her cheek and then turned to leave but stopped in his
tracks when Tristan started to giggle and reach for him.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
The CFO smiled before leaning down to face his boy.
“Yes, hello Tristan.” He kissed the child's forehead and left in search of
clean clothes stepping around Lady as he went.
Sansa just stood there for a moment with a grin plastered across her pale face,
he seemed completely unaware of how fatherly he'd become, all of it seemed to
be absent-minded but Sansa didn't say anything about it though, she knew he'd
just force himself to stop and hide his cards away again.
“Daddy may not admit it but he loves you.”
“Daddy!” Sansa laughed.
“Yes, he'll be back in a minute.”
                                     XXXX
                                        
Outside the howls of cold wind hurtling through the tall trees could be heard,
carrying the scent of freshness that man was never able to replicate through
the streets. The sound was rich and almost as though each green leaf worked
with its neighbour to create a symphony of utter perfection, better than any
lullaby. Since entering The Mockingbird Tristan had found himself being cooed
over by Mads, William, Jeremy, Azah and even Olyvar, Petyr worked away at his
office desk ignoring them until he felt Sansa's tension become too much to
bear.
“Will you people get back to what I pay you for.” Stormy eyes turned to Azah
who wore her favourite orange dress over mocha skin. “Azah who is on the bar
other than Katrina?”
The short woman brushed non-existence creases from her dress and pushed William
out the way so as she could face her boss before answering him.
“Briony and Angelo are at the bar.”
Petyr instantly turned his head to Oly while Sansa pulled Tristan into her arms
and subtly backed away from the little crowd that had formed.
“Olyvar.” The Cleaner began. “Rami Serratos will be at the club in a few hours
and you know how much he loves Angelo. Don't let him cover the bar for the rest
of the night, if you need someone that desperately have Kiba do it.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Good. Now get out.” The dark-haired man's voice was deep and dominant, the
sort of tone that wasn't questioned in any way.
The group of people were quick to obey Petyr's command, Azah was first out the
door followed quickly by Jeremy and William, Mads said something along the
lines of bye Alaynebut no one could be sure thanks to the flood of loud music
that poured in thanks to the open door. Once everyone was gone and Oly had shut
the door leaving them in quiet peace, Sansa's shoulders managed to relaxed and
her heartbeat slowed; gentle and calm. Her panic died. The CFO tipped back
against his pitch black leather chair and cast his eyes around the room with a
vacuous expression before locking onto Sansa, suddenly his face was anything
but lacking in thought; deep high waisted burgundy skirt that stopped just
above her knees, a long sleeved cream sweater with a scoop neckline, burgundy
ballerina flats and a pair f thick black tights. Perfect.Perfect was the only
word he had to describe his girl. Fire hair hung over one shoulder in a mermaid
braid that Petyr had loving done for her, he'd never admit to googling that
just so he would have an excuse to run his fingers through her long red locks.
His hand came down on his knee gently patting it softly and silently calling
her over to his side , she sat down in his lap and cuddled into his chest in
search of warmth and comfort that she discovered quickly, Petyr never
disappointed her. Strong arms circled around Sansa's waist making her feel safe
and like she could accomplish anything, with a kiss to her milk white cheek his
hand reached out for a glass that wasn't there.
“Would you like a drink, Master?” She asked dutifully with her arms still
snaked around his neck. “I can get you one.”
Littlefinger shook his head.
“Nah, you don't have to Sweetling. Anyway, you have Tristan to watch.”
“He's asleep.” Was Sansa's quick response.
“It's crowded out there, I'll just have Katrina bring me one.”
“Master-” He cut her off
“Is this you trying to be brave like at the store when you went to get
strawberries?”
Sansa grinned cautiously, he wanted her to be strong and she worked so hard to
give him that, for him, for her.
“Yes.” She admitted and Petyr knew he had no choice but to give in.
“Alright, but get something for yourself.”
Sansa pressed a thankful kiss to her Master's cheek and pushed herself up,
straightening out non-existence creases from her skirt before heading over to
the large office door, Lady hopped down from her place on the couch intent on
following her best friend but Sansa stopped the animal in her tracks.
“No Lady, dogs can't go in there.” Lady let out a whimper but accepted Sansa's
words. “Take care of Tristan for me?”
The Wolfdog barked an affirmative finally letting Sansa leave the room to be
brave, she'd push herself out of her comfort zone.
Petyr watched his girl leave with a lazy smirk on his face, a factory setting
of his, then went back to his accounts. The Mockingbird always buzzed with
activity but in recent months his club had only become more popular, surpassing
even his expectations. Trixie had been on watch for a good month, seemed people
were loosing interest in her and that had only continued; she'd be fired by the
end of the night. Bobby, Neal, Daryl and Angelo had regulars that paid well.
Mads, Jeremy and Dimitri were without a doubt the most popular of his male
whores what with their muscular chests and chiselled features while Mhaegen ,
Marei and Danika seemed to be the months favoured girls. William, Kiba and Yuki
got all the sugar daddy types thanks to their barely legal looks, Ros was his
golden girl though and Petyr knew he'd got the perfect balance of whores.
After a while the Cleaner started to wonder where his baby girl had gotten to,
she'd been gone a good five minutes and his bartenders should have been smart
enough to serve her before anyone else no matter how long they'd been stood
there, what is taking her so long? Strong hands pushed Petyr up from his chair
green-grey orbs glanced down to his son who was still sleeping peacefully
before slipping out the door in search of Sansa.
His club was packed, that may have actually been an understatement, his whores
were occupied as usual, Ros sat on Pycelle's ancient lap pretending she wasn't
ready to kill herself from boredom. Athelstan Creed had an arm full of
beautiful blonde Kiba and still wore the same suit as earlier that day at Lion
and Stag so he'd been in the club for hours; none of that was important though.
He couldn't see Sansa anywhere, people littered the full circumference of the
bar but Petyr knew he'd have been able to spot that bold red hair no matter how
many customers crowded his club. He knew her anywhere. Baelish's head swooshed
every way imaginable in search of his girl but she'd vanished, gone,
disappeared, evanesced! Is this panic? Is that what this is? Petyr's heart
thudded around his chest threatening to burst forth through his ribs. Suddenly
someone tapped him on the shoulder and it took all of Littlefinger's energy not
to respond by punching whoever it was, spinning round he found the dark blonde
locks under which was Jeremy.
“What!?” He growled.
“Tyrell said some guy left this for you.” The younger man in nothing but a pair
of tight green jeans and black suspenders told him handing over a manilla
envelope. “Here.”
Petyr took it quickly but never pulled his eyes from Jeremy who was a little
unnerved by his boss' sudden tone, he wasn't one for conflict, no, Jeremy
preferred to flirt his way out of everything: which usually worked.
“Who left it?” It was a demand more than a question.
“Don't know, Boss. Tyrell said he was small and had reddish brown hair. Said he
looked terrified of his own shadow.”
Jeremy didn't say another word, didn't ask if his boss was okay, Jeremy knew
better than that instead he simply turned and walked back to his job leaving
Petyr to open the envelope. Inside was a single piece of paper with a
photograph taped to the bottom, the image before him cause pure rage to course
through his blood and anyone who came too close would risk being torn to
shreds. Before him was a picture of Sansa unconscious lying in a trunk with
bruises already forming on her neck, above was a message of only five words
scrawled in what looked to be sharpie.
                                        
                            Come play at the cabin.
                                        
It was Ramsay's chicken scratch Petyr had seen enough of it on security reports
to know that and he knew exactly where the cabin was, Baelish knew everything
about everyone, Roose adored his mansion like log cabin out in the middle of
the woods for his hunting trips. The place was a second home more than a cabin.
None of that was important though, not a single bit of it, why is he interested
in Sansa?That was the real question... and then it all clicked. How had he been
so stupid?! She'd told him once about Joffrey loaning her out,Duvall Hitachiin
was the kindest, the one who didn't get off on bludgeoning her. Kaegan Irelan
liked her to be perfectly silent and only hit her when he was angry or she
disobeyed him. Then there was the mystery man, pale with dark unruly hair,
she'd never known his name because they normally refereed to him as sadistic
bastardand it was an apt description. How could he have missed it? Overlooked
it? He was Petyr Baelish he knew everything, how didn't he figure it out?
Ramsay was the last person on his list, the last person who raped and tortured
his girl. His head was spinning, heart racing and fingers itched to claw Bolton
into tiny bits. Petyr had promised to protect and care for Sansa, vowed that no
one would ever harm her again, he'd failed her. Petyr didn't make mistakes but
he'd made the biggest one of all time with the most important person in the
world.
Music and talking surged around him but Baelish had long become deaf to it, not
a note nor a syllable reached his ears, only his wrath filled heartbeat. He'd
destroyed everyone who'd ever hurt her; Joffrey Baratheon was dead, Kaegan
Irelan wished he was, Duvall Hitachiin had been digested by sharks, Cersei away
in the nut house, even Twyin who had to have known. Ramsay would soon be the
same, Petyr would make certain of that. Hands clenched into tight fists digging
his nails in so hard that blood oozed from crescent shaped wounds, there was no
pain though. Suddenly someone bumped into him on the way to the bathroom and
the world snapped back to him, music blasted in his ears and the talking
resumed. Petyr couldn't just stand there, he had to save Sansa.
He would save Sansa.
Chapter End Notes
     Lyrics are Spaceman by The Killers
***** Death Is The Wish Of Some, The Relief Of Many, And The End Of All *****
Chapter Notes
     Major warning for rape in this chapter. I know I said the rape would
     all be pre fic and technically this flashback is before the fic
     starts but I digress. I am writing it from an emotional view rather
     than a physical one but if you don't want to read that bit there are
     notes in capitals that indicate where the rape scene starts and ends
     so you can skip it if you'd like to.
     The title is a quote by Lucius Annaeus Seneca
See the end of the chapter for more notes
He would save Sansa!
With those words echoing around his head like a motto Petyr jumped into action,
eyes the color of grass in the night spotted Olyvar heading to the crowded bar,
Petyr charged over to him and grabbed him by the arms maybe a little too tight
and spun him around.
“Oly, I need you to watch Tristan.” His tone was full of rage and a little bit
of fear.
“What? Why? What about Alayne-”
“Just do it!”
The blonde would have jumped back in shock had his boss not had a firm grip on
his muscular arms, Petyr never shouted because people were more afraid of a
quiet voice, he'd never seen his boss like this and it actually scared him.
Petyr registered Oly saying something along the lines of okay sureas he darted
towards the exit and his car, racing away into the darkness and probably
breaking every speeding law known to man. He had to get home, had to get his
things, had to be prepared.
Baelish dove into the house leaving his Aston running and the frint door open
as he raced to his basement to grab his black duffel bag and filled it up;
blades, ammo, gloves, ammonia. Anything and everything Petyr thought could be
of use. In less than five minutes he'd packed up his things and was off back
into the inky night.
                                     XXXX
Darkness had long ago descended over King's Landing and blackened clouds
floated through the sky on a thick breeze that bordered on angry, Joffrey's
house was lit up like a lighthouse in a storm. The blonde had finally decided
it was time to introduce his so-called friends to his play thing, he was
sixteen and couldn't force down the want to boast any longer. The other sixteen
year olds and a twenty-one year old Duvall Hitachiin had gathered around the
terrified young girl looking her over with judgemental eyes and smug smiles,
she didn't dare look up as the consequences would be dire and more painful than
words could describe. The blonde pulled her by the hair across the room then
threw her down to kneel beside his poker table, her pale knees were bruised and
red, stinging with pain and still bleeding from earlier that day when her
Master had decided to try out his new lock knife. One of the other men laughed
at her expression of agony, his black curly hair wobbling as his shoulders rose
and fell a few times, a guy with mocha skin and a shaved head sat directly
opposite her Master the scary pale man took the seat to Joffrey's left and
Duvall in his silver-grey suit to his right. The older stranger didn't frighten
her as much as the rest of them, there seemed to be something almost kind about
him but the pet didn't let herself be fooled, no one was kind to her, no one
showed her any care or concern; she wasn't worth it.
The four of them played blackjack for a time, laughing and drinking mother's
rui n, whiskey and beer , until Kaegan came up with the 'fantastic' idea of
playing to see what order they got 'the slut' in. In a way the game was rigged
since Joffrey had no card skill what so ever but no one voiced that, after a
few hands they had their order and Sansa gulped down her fear. Ramsay – the man
whose name she still hadn't registered thanks to the kick Joffrey had given her
out of anger that caused her to pant on the floor – would be first then Duvall,
Kaegan and Joffrey who would have to wait.
G rinning maniacally 'batter number one' as Kaegan refereed to him stood and
pulled Pet up by her hair, the smile faded to a sneer of disgust upon feeling
the greasy rough texture of her almost black locks. Long ago when she'd first
been taken Pet though it had been red but that had long since vanished.
“I'm going to need that pretty little hidden chamber you call a 'playroom'.” It
wasn't a question and Ramsay didn't hang around long enough for an answer.
Rancid locks of hair were nearly tugged from her scalp when Ramsay started to
haul her down halls and over to the bookshelf, in seconds he had the
Baratheon's supposedly secret room open and the light flicked on, he pulled the
girl into his arms only to throw her down the stairs. Pet landed with a loud
thud but could only manage a whimper because she didn't have the energy to
scream, he seemed pleased with the pain he'd caused but it was only the
beginning; everyone in the house knew that. In the mood Joffrey was in he'd be
off with Kaegan getting high while Duvall would likely help himself to one of
the never read books in the house and settle down until his turn came. He
planned on getting a dog, a little puppy, he'd never been able to resist
anything cute. 
The house had been a gift from Cersei for Joffrey's sixteenth so he could 'have
some space to himself' as she put it but the blonde had added a few things of
his own after moving in, the secret playroom being one of them, he'd shown it
to Ramsay, Duvall and Kaegan almost the second it had been finished. Pet's
blood had been the first to flow across it's floor.
(FOR THOSE NOT READING THE RAPE STOP HERE)
Leather snared her wrists as her azure eyes fluttered open still stinging from
the agony of having been chucked down the few concrete steps, the leather bit
her skin tighter, tighter, tighter until she couldn't move. Terrified eyes
darted around desperately, she didn't know why there was no real point since no
one cared enough to help her, the room was dark like always with no windows and
only a few light bulbs that acted more like candle light than the modern world
of electricity.
The stone walls around her formed a hexagon and each one had been decorated
with weapons, none of which Pet could name beyond swords and guns. In the
corner closest the hard wooden table she'd been strapped too stood several fire
pokers, those she knew all too well thanks to Joffrey's tendency to burn her.
Horror tingled in her veins.
“Now you're going to be a good little bitch for me.” He commanded to screwed up
eyes. “Understood?”
Pet nodded knowing she had no right to speak. The sound of his belt clicking
open echoed around the room bouncing off the grey stone, though she looked
everywhere but at him Pet knew he wore a grin. Ramsay walked over to a black
cupboard on the other side of Joffrey's secret room and pulled it open,
perusing a moment at its contents. What he took out was a large paddle made of
black leather with silver studs decorating one side, Pet gulped trying to
mentally prepare herself. The hard leather came down quickly and with power
over her naked thighs with a sickening slap, she yelped which caused nothing
but Ramsay's chortle and a second slap. Again and again and again the paddle
came down, sometimes over the same red patch of scared skin, her complexion
ashen and sickly.
Desperately she tried to find a place in her head to hide away, maybe somewhere
pretty where she wouldn't have a care in the world but that was not to be since
Pet's only memories were a mosaic of agony, grief, devilish torment, blood and
despondency. Her face pulled into another grimace that went unnoticed, skin
growing clammy under the sadist's evil caress. Once bored of watching her skin
turn every shade of red imaginable he pulled out a box of matches from his back
pocket and lit one, pressing it to the flesh just above her private curls, at
first it was just warm and uncomfortable but as the wood burnt the pain chewed
into her flesh like a thousand tiny needles, it was such a simple torture –
could hardly be considered torture really – but after long enough and almost
half a box of the little matches Pet was bleeding squirming on the table. Each
mark bleed slightly, they would heal quickly scabbing over by the next morning
and wouldn't scar but they would certainly itch, a niggling reminder of
everything he'd do to her, of every other torture he'd ever put her though and
once they were healed he'd only come back and do it again. Bolton didn't just
like the physical aspect of hurting someone but the mental too.
She didn't have to look to know he was hard, hurting her always got him there
quickly and all Pet could hope for was that it would be quick, the sooner he
finished the sooner, Duvall, Kaegan and Joffrey could have there turn and send
her back to her cage under the bed. Strong hands gripped her throbbing crimson
thighs pulling her down the rough table covering her naked back in splinters,
the leather cuffs around her wrists gripped on tight as though trying to pull
her back until her shoulders were fighting not to come out of their sockets.
“I'll teach you to like it rough, don't worry. Whore's always like it rough.”
Rough was one hell of an understatement.
Her lungs ceased to function when he pushed himself inside her trying to make
it as painful as possible, long after her abrasions had healed both knew Pet
would still be able to feel him deep inside her tiny body. She'd be able to
smell his semen and sweat. If anything had been in her stomach she'd have
thrown up, maybe it was a good thing she'd not been fed in longer than she
could remember. 
She felt blood between her legs dripping down her beaten thighs and onto the
wooden table, her insides tore with each new stab from his hard member.Thrusts
grew fast and erratic almost as soon as he entered her, Ramsay got off on the
painful foreplay more than the actual act. Each rough thrust of hips banged her
head against the dark wooden table but she'd yet again gone numb, if she was
lucky she'd die soon. Pet felt guilty for having a wish, she had no right to
wants but that was her wish and as guilty as she felt it wouldn't leave her;
she wanted to die. To die, to have it stop once and for all, for her body to
give up just as her mind had years before, for it to just end. That was all she
wanted in the world.
(THOSE NOT READING THE RAPE CAN START FROM HERE AGAIN)
Outside the playroom Joffrey and Kaegan had returned from their 'drug break' as
Duvall would call it and settled themselves on the couch next to the older man
rolling joints for later. Duvall had a book in his hand and looked almost like
someone's father relaxing after a long day at work, no one would see just how
much evil was behind the suits and passion for reading; especially after he got
that dog he wanted.
“Do you think there'll be anythin' left of her once you, me and Ramsay are done
with her?” He asked Duvall with a chuckle.
Mister Hitachiin sighed and set the book down, it wasn't overly interesting
anyway. Straightening his dark tie complete with Nicky knot – Duvall was fully
aware he was the only person in the house that could do more than a schoolboy
knot – and then answered his so-called friend.
“I don't know what shape Ramsay will leave her in but I plan on playing a game
with the wanton slut.” A smile tugged at his lips.
“You and your games, Duvall. Do you even fuck her or just play with her head?”
Sneered Joffrey before licking at the paper of a joint.“Ha! Can you even get it
up?”
Sometimes Duvall Hitachiin questioned why he associated with these... children,
'oh yes, easy money' his mind muttered.
“Do you spend a lot of time thinking about my long hard cock, Joffrey.” Kaegan
burst into laughter. “Is there something you haven't been telling us? Should I
maybe take you down to The Mockingbird and getone of Baelish's boys for you to
rideallevening.” Duvall remained stoic while Kaegan continued to giggle on the
couch.
“Shut up!The whore's mine, I can take your turn from you, Duvall.” Joffrey spat
out the older man's name but he remained un-phased.
“No you can't, you owe me too much money to refuse my playing with her.”
Joffrey knew he was right which forced him into silence, thankfully Kaegan had
gotten his fit under control. Kaegan was like Joffrey in a lot of ways but he
did excel in one field that Joffrey had no hope in, he knew when it was time to
stop and shut up.
“So what is your big plan to fuck with her? Gonna go all hypnotist?”
“I don't need to 'go all hypnotist' with her, Ramsay is in there torturing her
to his stony heart's content. All I have to do is go in there after him and
show a little sympathy, tell her I think everyone has gone way too far this
time. It'll take a few hours but I think I can get her guard down just enough
to make crushing it again worth while.” Kaegan seemed to like Duvall's plan.
The older man turned his attention back to Joffrey intent on teasing him some
more. “You can watch me fuck her if you want, Joffrey. Imagine you're her.”
                                     XXXX
Sansa was walking back from the gargantuan circular bar having gotten a drink
for herself and Petyr from Katrina, she didn't like the mass of people around
her but it wasn't far back to her sweet Master's office, Sansa could make it.
The music blasted through the club giving the dancers something to swing around
their poles to and Sansa found she liked it though it wasn't the sort of thing
Petyr would really listen too, there seemed to be a man reading something that
sounded like a novel before a woman took over for the chorus.
        Kyrie suggested we go for a drive in her new two-door BMW coupe
   In the parking lot, we slipped into her bucket seats Kyrie took over from
                                    there.
 At nearly ninety miles per hour she zipped us up to that windy edge known to
 some as Mullholland, that sinuous road running the ridge of the Santa Monica
                                   Mountains
       Where she then proceeded to pump her vehicle in and out of turns
  Sometimes dropping down to fifty miles per hour, only to immediately gun it
                            back up to ninety again
                          Fast, slow, fast fast slow
   Sometime a wide turn sometimes a quick one she preferred the tighter ones
 The sharp controlled jerks, swinging left to right before driving back to the
                                     right
     Only so she could do it all over again until after enough speed, and
       enough wind, and more distance than I had been prepared to expect
      Taking me to parts of the city I rarely think of and never visit...
                                  Hey pretty
                     Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
                               Through my world
She'd gotten half way across the large room back to that little door marked
only as owner,the music's soft but somehow heavy beat sinking into her mind
where it would wait hours – days even – until it could pop back up again only
to become annoying. The song didn't get long enough to really sink in though
due to the messy haired man that matched her height came to a dead stop in
front of her.
“Alayne?” He asked shyly.
At first Sansa wanted to run back to her Master and avoid conversation with the
unknown man but only the staff knew her false name; or so she thought.
“Yes. Can I help?” She responded just as shyly, eyes cast down at Petyr's
whiskey glass.
“You're dog got out and ran into the parking lot and Mister Baelish can't find
the dog and said you'd have a better chance.”
Worry for Lady filled Sansa's body, Lady protected her just as much as Petyr
did, she was Sansa's best friend. What if she gets lost? Or hurt?The shy lanky
male gestured for her to follow and Sansa did, all concerns of the stranger
fading from her mind replaced with an urge to find Lady. Sansa set the drinks
down on a table that William, Kiba and a costumer she had seen a lot off had
taken as theirs for the night before following the stranger. Maybe he was new?
Petyr didn't tell her every single thing that went on on his club, it was his
club after all. In the back of her head screamed a voice desperate for her to
return to the office but fret and alarm for Lady silenced it.
The night air was cold against her skin, especially after the hotbed of
perspiration going on inside The Mockingbird, a mist had also started to roll
in off the Narrow Sea veiling the trees in a fine haar, there was only a hint
of it in the air when Sansa stepped outside but it would soon take over of that
she had no doubt. The short nameless man lead her round to the back of the club
past Petyr's car and she couldn't help but crouch down for a second and check
to see if the wolfdog was hiding underneath; not such luck. Behind the club had
become well trafficked by Sansa and Petyr in the time Tyrion had been with them
but with his departure the front door had again become the natural choice,
there were no cameras which was why Petyr had used it to get Tyrion in and only
and one light fixed to the grey wall beside the locked back door. Her Master
wasn't there however there was a parked dark blue BMW, everything in Sansa
wanted to believe her Master was just around the corner or hidden in a shadow
she'd not seen yet but the redhead knew that wasn't anything close to the
truth.
“Where is he?” She tried to sound brave and cling to her dwindling hope but it
was utterly pointless.
Suddenly there was chuckling behind her and Sansa's blood ran cold in her
veins, she knew that chuckle all too well. Pale hands shivered visibly at her
sides and the ability to run failed her, as though she were fixed to the spot
by glue. Tears welled in her eyes and that was the first time since she'd
remembered how that Sansa hated her wet cheeks.
“If you mean Baelish I'd guess in his office. You're so easily fooled and by
what? The possibility of helping a dog. Pathetic!”
Each word cut like a knife sharper than any other, she was strong though, Petyr
had given her bravery back to her and she would use it. Sansa took a deep
breath and screamed at the top of her lungs, Ramsay almost flew the few steps
to where Sansa stood clamping his hand down over her mouth silencing her scream
half way through, he forced her backwards so she pressed against his chest hard
enough to bruise them both. With the left hand over her mouth the right came up
to wrap around her neck tightening harshly, legs flew out in all directions,
Sansa wasn't that weak little girl anymore, she'd fight. A solid kick connected
with Ramsay's shin knocking him to the floor but he wouldn't let her go, he'd
waited long enough to get her back, he wouldn't let her go now.
Darkness clawed at her vision as it had so many times before with one key
difference, Sansa didn't want to die any longer, as the black grew stronger and
her breathing came to a stop one last thought went through her mind before
unconsciousness took her.
Master help me!
Chapter End Notes
     Lyrics are Hey Pretty by Poe with her brother reading from his book
     House Of Leaves
***** A Swinging Lightbulb *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning for torture
 
Darkness was the first thing she registered when the world started to come back
to her, pitch black that stretched on endlessly as though it was all that
remained of the universe, like her eyes had been covered over by charcoal. Her
vision remained like that for a time almost fooling her into thinking the
vibrant hues of plants and sparkling gold of the sun had been nothing but a
vivid dream. Steadily though blotches a lighter black than the rest started to
appear and take on shape, then as her azure eyes continued to adjust dull
orange assaulted her beautiful orbs; eventually Sansa realised it was a single
light bulb hanging awkwardly from a string.
The orange illumination wasn't overly bright - hardly stretching out into the
dark depths - and only hurt her eyes for a moment, its sadistic buzz so close
to her ear was what caused her head to ache. Though the buzz  hurt as though
she'd been hit with a brick her neck was where the real pain was, Sansa didn't
have to look down to know it had turned purple with heavy bruising that would
only grow. Breathing stung her throat forcing her to take air in slow and
shallow, suddenly a cough overpowered her fragile frame and her brain screamed
out cursing her body.
More sickening that all the pain was the feel of eyes on her, knowing out in
the shadows stood pure evil just waiting for the best moment to strike. High
above her head Sansa's hands had been shackled, chain hanging from the ceiling
only a foot or so from the light bulb, her hands had gone numb and slightly
white from the lack of blood and she dared not pull on the metal restraints, if
they were any tighter her wrists would have bleed. A heavy chill hung in the
air and it was only then after the shock of pain, fear and just general
confusion that Sansa realised she stood – well as best she could with her
wrists chained – in nothing but cold flesh. She tried to shrivel up into a ball
to hide her nakedness but it was of no use, glancing down for no more than a
heartbeat Sansa saw her the beautiful white dress she had once worn with
delicate lace sleeves lying in shredded rags at her feet. There was a momentary
pang of guilt in her heart, that dress had been her Master's favourite.
Her heart ricocheted in her ribcage when the sense of eyes grew stronger, more
oppressive, Sansa's breathing quickened and the sudden urge to throw up hit
her. Cerulean orbs flashed around desperately searching for her sadistic
capture but the room was too dark. The lightbult was nothing more than a tease
of orange light. Suddenly there was a banshee like giggle directly in front of
the redhead and a few seconds later Bolton stepped out from the shadows, there
was a faint outline of another man but she gave that mystery no thought. The
last Stark refused to scream, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction, not
because she was unafraid but because she knew it was exactly what he wanted.
“I see my little slave is finally awake.” He said almost maniacally, Sansa
tried to shake away some of her headache. “Awww, does your little head hurt?
Doesn't matter. I only need you to do as you're told not to think.”
Sansa fixed her eyes on the cold floor and her tattered dress, she couldn't
look at him, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach only grew worse.
“You've been a very bad girl.” The dark-haired man was bottled up rage just
waiting to overflow. “Reek, show my new plaything what happened last time you
pissed me off.”
The second figure stepped forwards giving up his shadow filled hidden
sanctuary, surprisingly he looked even more terrified than he had in Petyr's
club, Master! He'll come for me.Sansa had to have faith in that, in him.
Hanging from chains Sansa had no choice but to watch as the man with curly red-
brown hair – Reek – give her his back and lift up his threadbare green sweater
revealing massively scared flesh decorated over with thick purple bruises and a
brand new, barely healed, X over his shoulder. Ramsay smiled at her discomfort,
discomfort was an immense understatement.
“That's my mark of ownership.” His eyes were crazy. “It'll be on you come
morning. I don't know what Baelish made you think, that you're a person? That
you had freedom?” Suddenly he was laughing again. “Did he give you the kid just
to fulfil his Nanny fantasises?”
The desperate urge to scream what a good man her Master was hit her but Sansa
held her tongue, three words slipped out though.
“Master is good.”
“No I'm certainly not, oh you mean him. Sorry Red but I own you, have for a
while now. Joffrey lost you to me fair and square, you're mine! Baelish stole
you and now I've taken you back, though I do like that I've just crushed all
your hopes and dreams of being a real person. What fun!” Ramsay let out a bone
chilling giggle. “And anyway Baelish will be dead in a few hours.”
“No!”
“Yes!If you thought Baelish would live then you haven't been paying attention
to who I am.” He seemed ecstatic with her horror, his sarcastic and sadistic
grin shape at the edges. “What shall we play a game?”
Hesitantly Reek took another step forwards, just enough to enter Ramsay's
peripheral vision, eyes cast to the floor and scrounged up enough bravery to
speak.
“Master... you... you asked me to remind you about.... your father.” Reek
stuttered.
Bolton spun around so fast he almost broke the sound barrier and for a moment
both slaves thought he would kill Reek but he didn't, in fact he slapped Reek
on the back with a friendly smile. Ramsay Bolton only had two settings, creepy
but friendly or bat-shit crazy.
“I did yes, good boy Reek.” His attention turned back to Sansa. “I am Ramsay
Bolton, and I own you. Don't accept it too quickly because I'd rather like to
break you.” With another glance over Sansa's naked porcelain skin he started up
the stairs. “Come on Reek.”
The younger man followed quickly fearing the consequences for tardiness.
Everything went black and the door slammed behind them. Ramsay Bolton was his
name, she knew that now, the Master who would be far worse that Joffrey ever
was. Alone in the pitch black Sansa's mind filled with horrid memories of the
past and thoughts of seeing Petyr dead.
                                        
                               XXXXFLASHBACKXXXX
                                        
“Open your eyes!”
Ramsay commanded fearlessly but Pet couldn't bring herself to do it. He gave
her a few seconds reliving in her pain and torment then dug his sharp demonic
nails into her soft thigh, so deep crimson seeped from the crescent moon marks.
She yelped.
“Open your fuckin' eyes.”
He commanded again but this time it was all rage and Pet had no choice but to
give in and open her fearful eyes, they stung from having been screwed up. The
sadistic madman had wanted the redhead on her back for him since Joffrey had
showed her off to his so-called friends and she hated him with everything she
had. He always had some painful comment to make and a harsh kick to deliver.
“Good girl. You're not completely stupid.”
Without a hint of warning her Master's friend grabbed Pet's ankles and pulled
her flat against the old mattress and then flipped her over onto her stomach,
knocking the air from her lungs in the form of a muffled yelp. Ramsay pulled
her up by her long filthy hair – where once had been fire red locks now hung
grimy brown – his strong hands bent her in such away that for a moment Pet
thought he was going to break her back, like snapping a twig.
“You scream again and I will make sure you can't remember your own name.” He
chuckled like venom and clearly he didn't know that she'd already half
forgotten.“You don't need a name to be a good fuck.”
The terrified slave quickly silenced herself at his words, knowing he meant
what he said. Only this sadist could make her wish for Joffrey back.
“Good girl.”
Pet hated the way he said that, like she was enjoying what he was doing, going
to do but deep down she knew she had no right; Joffrey owned her he made the
rules. Bolton leaned down and clicked open the black case that he'd set at his
feel when he entered Joffrey's playroom, her heart had stopped when she saw it.
From the case he took two lengths of rope and tied Pet's wrists to the heavy
table frame, Ramsay could have used handcuffs, he had them but he liked the way
rope burnt the skin, tearing at the flesh it found and causing as much pain was
was possible. Ramsay pulled her ran a long finger down her pale and bruised
flesh slowly adding insult to injury, taking his time to let her imagination
fill with horrid thoughts of just how much he wanted to hurt her. Her owners
friend bent back down to his case and the redhead knew exactly what was coming
next, from the dark and heavy looking case came Ramsay's favourite riding crop
out into the light and Pet had to bite her tongue to stop herself screaming for
someone, anyone to help her, it was still strange to her that she had that urge
after so many years; like some small part of her refused to give up.
The crop had a black leather handle, red and black leather wound around to the
very bottom, an almost triangular pad of black and it most certainly showed
signs of great use but the redhead was sure he would call it signs of
enjoyment. The dark-haired man stood, slapping the crop against his hand and
chuckled to himself as the noise reverberated around the small dark room; he
was enjoying this far too much. Letting terrified anticipation worm its way
through the air, like a parasite under the skin. Satisfied with his slow build
up, Ramsay raised the riding crop high pausing for a second to take in her
naked body and brought it down on Pet's cold thighs, Snap!A pinky-red mark
burst forth to decorate her icy skin that her owner's friend wasted no time
tracing over with his fingers to make sure it hurt. Pet whimpered.
Another blow, another snap.
“Say you like it!” He ordered in a deep half-mad voice.
Pet couldn't deny she was beyond shock hearing that he wanted her to speak,
sometimes she forgot she could since her voice was so rarely used, when the
redhead said nothing he brought the crop down on the pale cheek of her ass, his
breathing turned to pants with each satisfying smack. Pet bit down on her
tongue keeping her pain silent.
“Say it!”
“I...” Her voice was groggy from lack of use. “...I like it, please...d...do it
again.” Pet sobbed out knowing to remain silent was beyond stupid.
Tears pouring from her innocent azure orbs like an acidic waterfall. The crop
came down again over her back. Snap!
“Good girl.”
He praised maniacally and moved to straddle her hips forcing her chest and chin
further into the hardwood table, Ramsay pushed his clothed erection down
against her naked buttocks while dragging his nails down her back, scratching,
drawing blood, marking her. Brushing her hair away, exposing her neck he leaned
down and placed a gentle kiss to her neck. For a moment it felt like he wasn't
a heartless bastard that would happily rip her apart if not for the want of
using her again. He kissed down her back softly, slowly, with delicate lips...
and then the pain was back. He dug his teeth into the sensitive flesh of her
left shoulder blade calling forth wine colored blood, Pet couldn't help
it...she yelped. Ramsay sighed in an exasperated tone that didn't bode well for
the slave and tucked his riding crop under her neck so it went across her
throat and pulled her back so she couldn't breathe, body begging for oxygen, he
crept closer to shout in her ear.
“I said not to scream!”
The crop found itself quickly removed and Pet face-planted back onto the large
table gasping for air, in the corner of her eye she could see the crop being
thrown to the floor, it landed with a twack. A small bit of relief hit her,
until she realized what was coming next. Bolton pulled her so she was kneeling
on pained knees and bruised bones completely exposed to him.
“Say you want me!” He slapped as hard as he could. “Say it!”
Sansa knew she had no choice, he would never let her stay quiet and got far too
much enjoyment from forcing her to speak his lies. All Pet wanted was for it to
stop, she actually wanted Joffrey back.
“I... I want... you.”
“That's my little whore.” He grinned. “Would you like me to take you away from
here hmm? Keep you for my own? You know, I think I might. I bet I could get you
in a card game, Duvall won't give him any more money and he's stupid enough to
think he can win against me. Me! He can't, I promise little red, I'll make you
my own." 
"Oi quit fucking about with my bitch and let's get going." Joffrey called up
the stairs.
"Looks like you're getting off easy... for now anyway."
That was how he left her, cold, scared and in pain tied and bound.
 
                                     XXXX
Sansa's mind snapped back to the world around her when the basement door swung
open and the tiny lightbult burst into life, it seemed brighter than before but
maybe that was because she'd been in the dark for so long. An older man only an
inch or so taller than Ramsay thudded down the creaky wooden staircase and into
the large concrete space, it took her a moment to recognise him as Roose
Bolton, Lion and Stag's CSO, he works with Master.Her eyes fell to the floor
again when a second man came hurtling down the stairs after his father. Half
way down the older man began to speak.
“Damnit Ramsay!” Yelled Roose, there was a little vein pulsing on the side of
his head in stress. “Enough of your weird secrets. You really think I don't
notice that boy you keep around? You've been hiding something else ever since
we got here and I want to know what the fuck it is-”
Roose cut himself off and came to a dead stop when his eyes found Sansa, his
mouth fell open in shock and fear crossed his features.
“Father-” Ramsay started but Roose just spoke over him, voice full of anger.
“You took Baelish's niece?!” Roose Bolton wasn't completely stupid, he knew how
deceptively dangerous Petyr was even if he wasn't a hundred percent sure what
Baelish did on the side for the Lannisters. “You realise Baelish is going to
kill you for this right?! Gods Ramsay you stupid little bastard.”
Ramsay just leaned against the wall by the stairs half in shadow and grinned
sickeningly, he folded his arms and stood on one foot pressing the other to the
grey concrete wall.
“I don't give a fuck what you think Baelish will do, he's pathetic and I can
take him. He thinks he's smarter than everyone else at Lion and Stag but he's
not and anyway everyone would be glad to see him dead.”
“You want to kill the CFO of Lion and Stag? The only think that's holding that
company together?”
“I don't care about Lion and Stag and yes I will kill him... after you of
course.”
 S   uddenly Ramsay was off the wall and a large hunting knife stuck out from
his father's abdomen, Roose's face dropped as he looked at his son but Ramsay
didn't care he just pulled the blade out and slammed in back in coating the
floor in blood. Bolton the younger watched as light left his father's eyes and
his soul was ripped away by The Ferryman intent on crossing the river Styx.
 Sansa screamed out in shock, warm blood splashed against her feet and ankles.
Roose slipped to the ground before her leaving Ramsay wiping his knife clean on
a torn shred of her old white dress    that he grabbed from the floor. Sansa's
new Master watched her torment with glee, eyes flicking between her and his
dead father, after a moment an idea hit him and Ramsay bent to dip one finger
in the slowly growing blood pool and then started to write over her chest just
above her breasts;   whore.   If he'd done that when Joffrey still owned her
Sansa wouldn't have cared as much, wouldn't have felt as much, but Petyr had
given her back emotion and now she felt like it was being ripped away form her
one letter at a time.
“Reek move him over there.” Ramsay shot out a finger gesturing towards a dark
corner to her left.
 The redhead hadn't noticed the other man until that moment, seemed he was one
of those slaves that tried to remain invisible. The slave grabbed Roose by his
right leg and hauled his corpse over to the corner hoping he was fast enough
and wouldn't anger his Master,    if the former heir to The Iron Isle Shipping
Company had learnt anything in the two years he'd been with Ramsay it was to do
as he said quickly and quietly.
“Look at all this blood, don't you just love that smell?” Ramsay licked the
remaining blood from his fingers. Reek opened his mouth to answer but didn't
get there quite fast enough. “I asked you a fucking question.” Ramsay spun
around to face the man formerly known as Theon.
“Yes, Master. It smells good.”
 B   olton looked back to Sansa expecting an answer from her as well, she could
tell without looking up.
“... yes.” She managed.
Suddenly Ramsay was so close she could smell his breath, coffee, some kind of
meat and his father's blood, it made Sansa want to gag. She would have given
anything for everything to be a dream and for her to wake up in Petyr's – her
real Master's – arms.
“I own you, I'm your Master and you'll address me as such.” His tone was
scarily calm. “Baelish will be dead soon enough and when he is I'll bring his
still warm body down here so you can see what I and my dogs have done. I
haven't fed them for days so what's left of him may be in an envelope.” Sansa
wouldn't cry, she wouldn't! Ramsay glanced down to her blood splattered feet
and back up he porcelain body stained with darkening bruises, doctors would
still considerer her underweight but at her stomach she had started to plump
up. “And it's good you're with me, you're getting fat. So!” He clapped his
hands together and rubbed them with glee. “Shall we start with the flogger or
the whip? I'd ask Reek but he's useless and you don't deserve a choice, slave.
Flogger it is.”
Two sets of blue eyes watched Ramsay glide to a table on Sansa's far right, one
male and one female, their Master perused for a while deciding which flogger he
wanted as though he were a kid in a candy store. Eventually he decided on a
black one with rich blood red intertwined, so reminiscent of the riding crop
he'd used on her so many times before, I want Petyr,was the only thought
running through her mind but it made her feel guilty because if he came to her
Ramsay would kill him. Each blow cut like glass, painful and unyielding, but
Sansa refused to scream instead only whimpering. Suddenly Ramsay's harsh voice
rumbled through her head pulling Sansa from her thoughts of Petyr.
“You know, I've been wondering.” Another slap. “Baelish calls you his niece but
I think we can accept that's absolute shit, and he's named you Alayne. You had
to have had a name when you were born though. Why did Joffrey have you for so
long hmm?” When she didn't respond the flogger came down hard and heavy against
the tender flesh just underneath her her bottom where her thighs started. “You
have to be from a powerful family then, someone they wanted to humiliate for as
long as possible. So who are you?” Yet another clout, this time against her
lower back over her spine. “Not a Tyrell, they didn't piss off the Lannisters
until a few years ago.” Thwack. “Not a Targaryen either, far too much red
hair.”
Ramsay paused to run a long blood stained finger through her long locks, her
hair was truly beautiful, even the sadist had to admit to that.  Without
warning he gripped her tightly, nails scraping viciously against her scalp and
nearly tugged her hair from her head; it only added to her headache. Tears
pricked in her eyes but Sansa refused to cry , it was what he wanted.
“You're not a Baratheon.” He mused aloud. “You're too pretty to be related to
those oafs, unless you're one of Robert's bastards which I doubt, if you were
they'd have just killed you. You're too pathetic to be a Lannister but not
pathetic enough to be Frey. That only leaves the-” Ramsay cut himself off as a
look of realisation hit him like a freight train, eyes wide and a little
shocked but grin grew. “Oh that's priceless. You're a Stark!”
Sansa's eyes widened but remained locked on the floor, he'd figured her out, he
knew who she was! Ramsay continued having completely forgotten about the
flogger in his hands and Sansa didn't know whether to be thankful for that or
not.
“The last Stark, I see why Baelish wanted you.Which one are you, hmm? Sansa or
Arya?" The redhead didn't answer but Ramsay didn't seem to care, he just
continued to grin. "Such a cute little puppy dog. That's it! From now on I'm
going to call you Puppy.” He smiled sickeningly. “Don't worry Puppy, I'll get
you a new collar.”
“No!” The plea slipped from her lips before Sansa had a chance to stop herself.
Ramsay grin only grew wider at her horror before his eyes cast down to the
flogger in his right hand.
“For now let's just play.”
***** And Those Many Men Are Dead *****
Petyr's sleek grey Aston Martin rolled to a stop just out of sight of the large
vacation home the Bolton's called their cabin. Darkness surrounded his vehicle
like a cloak with viridescent trees that rustled with the movement of a light
breeze; fog loomed. Its thick cloud dotting the cold metal with little water
droplets that had gathered in the atmosphere. The crescent moon shone through
brightly illuminating the mist turning it to a wall of white that would soon
engulf the so-called cabin and all nearby, everything behind the garish wooden
monstrosity had turned colourless as though the universe just came to an abrupt
half and stretched on in nothing but vast emptiness.
Indescribable rage still surged through his body, veins filled with more anger
than blood but Petyr couldn't let himself focus on that one emotion forever, he
had to save his girl. No one would see the car hidden away amongst the trees
and hopefully it would give Baelish enough time to surprise them. Diving out
the car Petyr stripped off his grey suit jacket as though it were on fire and
tossed it into the back seat quickly - no longer did he care about the eight-
hundred dollars it had cost him - before rolling up his black sleeves revealing
half his tattoos. Normally he remained perfectly stoic and unreadable but all
he wanted to do was hurt and kill, he practically vibrated with intense fury;
given the opportunity what did he do those who'd hurt the ones he loved?
Petyr forced himself to take a deep breath and fill his lungs with much needed
cold air, it helped to cool some of the fire inside him but it came nowhere
close to extinguishing it. He grabbed his black duffel bag it didn't take long
to put on his ebony colored leather holster and slip his Colt Gold Cup into the
light brown leather. He liked guns, when someone was shot it wasn't like a
knife through butter, no, it twisted and turned, ripping into the soft gooey
bit behind the flesh; destroying the muscles, tissue and organs.
He scouted the house quick and from a distance but very carefully. At first he
thought it was the thickness of the fog but it soon became clear Ramsay hadn't
let his dogs out to guard the area, oh this is a trap. Petyr wasn't stupid he
knew that but it wouldn't stop him getting Sansa back. No one stole from Petyr
Baelish, especially not his girl. Ramsay was expecting him, so Petyr had to do
something unexpected, even if to the outside world his actions appeared stupid;
no one expected Littlefinger to be stupid. Eventually the dark-haired man had
looped the whole house and was back at the garage door, a camera hung high
looking over the doorway before rotating a little down the driveway, from his
place in the fog coated tree line it was easy to use the blindspot. He only had
a few seconds to pick the lock before the camera rolled back round but that was
all he needed, there wasn't a set of tumblers in all of Westorose that could
stop him, the door opened with a satisfying click and Petyr didn't waste a
moment stepping inside. The front door would have been to obvious and he was
too fucking old to go climbing in windows like a teenage boy so the garage door
it was. Two large cars filled the grey room that looked more like an
underground storage bunker than a garage, closest the door was a two door BMW
coupé in midnight blue; clearly belonging to Ramsay thanks to the large
keychain hanging from the rear-view mirror in the shape of a snarling dog. The
second car had been parked directly to the BMW's left, a charcoal Jaguar sedan
that could have only belonged to Roose Bolton; they are both here then. Petyr
ignored the cars though in favour of finding a place to stash his bag, it would
be easier to move around without it.
Quickly the Cleaner spotted a large metal shelf stacked high with every piece
of crap one could imagine for their cars as well as the more useful like oil,
wax and de-icer. Petyr pushed his bag under the large stand alone shelving
while listening to the house, silence. This is far too easy, I know he wants me
here but I didn't think he'd make it this easy. He tried not to think about the
horror Ramsay was forcing his darling Sansa through because if he did anger
would cloud his judgement. The dark-haired man stood and went over to the large
oak door that lead to the main house to the right of the shelving, he pushed it
open with ease only to find the house lit up but silent, almost dead. The so-
called cabin was huge and a little under decorated save for the mass of mounted
heads on the walls, a chandelier made of antlers that quite frankly was
disturbing hung down in the centre of the large main room over two black
armchairs and a large matching couch. To the far right was the dining room that
led to the kitchen decorated with yet more mounted heads, but Petyr cared
little for the Bolton's décor, he had Sansa to find.
Ramsay would have either had her chained up in the basement or tied to his bed
upstairs, the only reason he headed to the basement first was because it was
closer and easier to torture her in. A small door hidden away behind the
winding staircase was smaller than the rest, like it didn't want to be noticed,
Petyr reached for it turning then doorknob silently. It turned without incident
and Petyr slipped inside taking each step one by one, pressing his weight down
carefully to avoid squeaks or creaks. He half expected hands to fly out from
behind the stairs and trip him. The room had little to no light save for a
small lightbulb at the very bottom of the almost endless staircase, at first he
thought the place was empty but reaching the bottom told him otherwise.
Illuminated ever so slightly by the bulb's orange glow was Sansa, wrists
chained high above her head bleeding and bruised.
“Oh Gods Sweetling.”
Sansa's back was bleeding from the Flogger and her hair was everywhere almost
as though she'd been in a hurricane, the word whore had been scrawled over her
naked chest in crimson blood; her own or someone elses he didn't know. She'd
half collapsed leaving her blood splattered feet lazily on the floor supporting
no weight what so ever. Her whole body had been held up for hours by nothing
but her wrists and heavy black-grey chains, just when Baelish though he
couldn't get any more rage into his body there was a surge and he clenched his
fists, nails digging into his palms.
“Sansa?” He said quiet enough that only she would head. A hand came up to cup
her pale cheek.
Tired blue eyes managed to open and lock onto the man before her, for a second
she thought she was dreaming or hallucinating but no, this really was Petyr.
“Master?”
Petyr grinned.
“Yes, Sweetling. It's me, it's Petyr.”
He couldn't help it he just had to kiss her, his other hand came up to cup the
other cheek and he pressed their lips together for a quick kiss. Sansa winced
in pain when Petyr dropped his hands and pulled her up to stand on her feet,
Ramsay's death isn't going to be as easy as Joffrey's, no poison, I want to see
blood and hear screams! Looking up to the shackles grass colored eyes found
that each one had two locks rather than the standard one and there was no way
he could just break the chain keeping her attached to the ceiling, he had no
choice but to pick them. Baelish reached into his back pocket for his lock
picks.
“Master go.” She mumbled through the pain. “Leave me and go. Please.”
Petyr froze in shock, eyes locked on her half-conscious face.
“What? No, of course I won't. I'm taking you home.” He told her determinedly.
“Please, you have to.” She was crying now, she'd only ever cry for him. “He's
going to kill you. Please just go.” She begged.
Petyr could hardly breath, there was no way he'd just leave her, he wouldn't,
he couldn't.
“I won't leave you.” He argued forcefully reaching for the first lock and
setting to work.
Tears poured down Sansa's cheek, her eyes grew red and started to sting, lips
dehydrated bringing back her headache. She couldn't watch him die.
“He'll... kill you.” Sansa stuttered out with her sobs. “You gave me a year. A
year... I never thought I'd have.” Petyr came to a dead halt, hands frozen in
their movement and looked down to his angelic girl, green-grey met blue. Why
was it the worst situation imaginable that let him see those beautiful eyes
again? She continued. “A year where I was happy, you made me happy. Do it again
and go.” Her words were but a whisper.
“I said no!” He shouted completely forgetting Ramsay and Roose were somewhere
in the house.
“Please-”
“No!” There were whisper shouting now.
“Please-” He cut her off again.
“No, I won't leave you!”
“Why!? Why won't you just go and save y-”
“Because I love you!”
Everything went silent with that confession, he'd felt it for so long and yet
there in that dark basement was the first time he said it. As a teen Petyr had
thought he loved Cat but that was a childish crush compared to what he felt for
Sansa, he'd do anything for her; except leave her there. Sansa's tears drip,
drip, dripped down onto the cold floor and her heart surged.
“I love you too... that's... that's why you have to go.” She sobbed “Take care
of Tristan and Lady.”
“How touching.” Said a new voice, deep and sarcastically.
Petyr swung around arms falling to his sides, it took everything Petyr had not
to launch at Ramsay and rip his throat out with his own teeth. Two large
Rottweiler flanked him snarling viciously, a shorter man stood behind him on
the stairs.
“So she is a Stark. Wonderful. Don't worry I'll make her forget that.”
Petyr pulled his Colt Gold Cup in less time than it took to process the fact
he'd moved. He desperately wanted to shoot Ramsay but he knew the second he did
the two Rottweilers would attack. If they'd been raised by another the animals
probably would have been friendly and loved but instead they got Ramsay, they'd
been tortured just as Sansa had.
“Bastard.”
“Words hurt Baelish.” Ramsay grinned. “And you fire that gun my dogs eat you,
they haven't been fed for days, but you've figured that out already.” Petyr
stared at him down the still raised gun. “I'm going to play a game with you
Baelish, you love games. You get ten minutes head start and then I'm letting my
dog loose on a search and destroy mission.”
Petyr's moss colored orbs flicked to the dogs then Sansa and finally back to
Ramsay who just stood there with a look of complete abhorrence on his sharp
features.
“Many men have tried to kill me, and those many men are dead.”
“Confident, I like it. But as I said, ten minutes, well, nine and a half now.”
The man with grey at his temples again looked to his darling girl.
“I'll come back.”
With that he was gone charging past Reek almost knocking him to the ground.
Petyr would play Ramsay's little game if only to buy himself some time to take
Ramsay by surprise. Ramsay stood watching the basement door for a few moments
before turning to Sansa.
“He's right, he'll be back but he'll be dead.” The words cut like a knife
through her heart. “Reek, stay here and watch the bitch.”
Bolton the younger stared at his watch for a full ten minutes, grin growing
larger with each second that passed while Sansa's heart grew heavier as
thoughts of the man she loved lying dead before her filled her mind.
He giggled when ten minutes were up and with a whistle the dogs were released.
 
                                     XXXX
 
This wasn't how Petyr imagined himself dying, eaten by hungry dogs, really, it
had never occurred to him. He could hear them coming, barking, following his
scent through the trees that surrounded the cabin, Petyr's heart raced and his
lungs begged him to stop but he'd never give up, he had promised to protect
Sansa, to go back for her and he would. Remembering the small creek he's
spotted when he'd circled the house Petyr raced towards it in hope of loosing
the Rottweilers or at least slowing them down and confusing them. Baelish ran
zig-zags through the small creek trailing his scent this way and that going
back on himself as best he could to disorientate the Rottweilers before pulling
a skedaddle off into the thicker woods. He knew he couldn't risk running
straight across the clearing, it was far too open, no he had to go around,
Ramsay knew Petyr would loop back but he enjoy the chase more than the
inevitable kill.
Feet stomped down crushing leaves and snapping branches with eerie tones, soil
stuck to his Italian leather shoes scratching and staining, never again would
they be wearable; not that Petyr cared. An owl hooted not far away while small
creatures scurried in the distance, the moon in the sky silver and powerful as
though a celestial watcher surrounded by tiny stars glinting in the night, it
would have been beautiful under different circumstances. Petyr's heart bounce
around his chest as he pushed himself to run faster through the dense dark
forest, up tiny hills not more than mounds covered over with leaves in shades
of pale green, orange and yellow. He hadn't run this much since track in high
school.
When the forest thinned to almost nothingness Petyr had no choice but to break
into the clearing and bolt for the house, he could still hear the vicious
animals but they were a distance off now, seemed his confusion tactic had
worked giving him a few minutes extra to work with. Petyr made it back to the
garage door and through past the parked cars, by now he'd realised Ramsay had
probably killed Roose or done something equally terrible, otherwise he'd have
seen the CSO. If Roose was gone then there was officially no one left to
control Ramsay, the full extent of his evil was free.
Petyr rushed down the basement stairs so fast he nearly slipped and fell to the
bottom but he managed to recover and found himself face to face with the scared
little slave he'd caught a glimpse of earlier. Sansa's eyes lit up at the sight
of him alive and unhurt but Reek's grew wide with fear. Petyr pulled his gun
aiming it at the proverbial deer in headlights perfectly prepared to shoot dead
the messy haired man.
“Please don't. Please.” He squeaked.
“Who are you?” He demanded.
“Reek.” He whispered looking down to the floor.
“Oh no, real name.” Petyr wasn't taking anymore of Ramsay's crap.
It had been so long since anyone had asked him that, to be honest he was
beginning to forget he'd once been from a good family and possessed freedom.
“Theon.” He finally answered and Baelish's left eyebrow rose up his forehead in
question.
“As in Greyjoy? The heir to Iron Isle Shipping?”
His hair had grown out in the two years he'd been missing, his skin was paler
and he'd thinned out letting his clothes hang off his thin frame; rags was a
better description. Reek, or Theon, stared in amazement as the dark-haired
stranger with grey at his temples lowered his weapon and slid it back into its
dark brown leather holster. He just went back to picking the mass of locks on
Sansa's cuffs, Theon didn't know whether he should have run or screamed but in
the end the younger man just decided to remain perfectly still and not say a
word.
“If you want to live I suggest you do as I say.” Petyr said flatly without
looking up. “Where did all the blood come from? It's not Sansa's.”
For a second Theon stood there on the edge of remaining or running away before
managing to return autonomy to himself and pointing over to the corner behind
him.
“...Mister Bolton. Mas-” No, Theon wouldn't be Reek any longer, this stranger,
this Petyr Baelish, would be his salvation. Ramsay wouldn't be a Master
anymore. “Ramsay killed him.”
Petyr glanced up only for a moment before unlocking the last of the cuff locks,
she collapsed onto him nearly knocking them both to the ground. There was so
much care and devotion for the redhead all wrapped up in stormy eyes, his body
seemed calm but he couldn't hide his tense shoulders. Something told Theon that
this man was far more dangerous than Ramsay ever could be, and that both scared
and reassured him; scared because after what Ramsay had done the idea of
someone worse made him feel faint and reassured because Baelish actually stood
a chance of surviving the night.
“Drag Bolton's body over here.” Littlefinger ordered.
Theon didn't know what the other man was planning and he didn't question it.
***** Between The Tick And The Tock *****
Ramsay wasn't stupid, he knew Baelish would loop around  and go straight back
to the house but where would the fun be if he didn't give chase? What he'd not
expected was Baelish finding the creek, it was at least a click from the house
and he'd not thought Petyr could run that fast. The water had disorientated his
dogs but it wouldn't last long,  yes he knew where Baelish was going but Ramsay
wanted to play his little game. Sure enough his snarling Rottweilers re-found
Littlefinger's scent and followed quickly, stalking, hunting, Ramsay's
sickening grin never faltered.  He was going to enjoy making that red-headed
whore watch as he gutted Baelish;  maybe I'll make her a necklace from his
intestine.   He chuckled sinisterly.
 The same garage door that Petyr had entered the first time stood open and
Bolton's grin only grew knowing Baelish would soon be begging him to live,
this is going to be fun!   He rubbed his hands together with glee. Ramsay
pushed the long sleeves of his dark grey-green t-shirt up to his elbows and
tied the two jet black leashes    tightly to the heavy garage door knowing
they'd not be needed in the basement. The psychotically deranged bastard
snickered to himself,    opening the basement door he found it pitch black but
he could still make out his new pet chained at the bottom of the stairs and
found himself wondering    where Baelish was hiding, because he had no doubt
that Littlefinger was waiting to jump out and attempt an attack.   Reek's
probably out cold, I'll teach him his lesson later.   Ramsay slithered down the
light wooden stairs    waiting for Petyr to jump out but he never did which
surprised the dark-haired man a little, as soon as his foot hit the bottom step
the basement door slammed shut sending a blast of cold air hurtling down the
stairs where it hit Ramsay in the back of the head forcefully.
“  You're not as smart as you think you are!” Petyr shouted through the door.
Anger surged through Bolton's body, rage heating his blood, Ramsay launched to
the light switch at the bottom of the stairs and flicked it on. There was no
surge of light like he'd have gotten in every other room, this was the basement
and he only got the faint glow of orange from the single bulb in the middle of
the room, it wasn't much but it did illuminate the person hanging from the
chains; Roose Bolton's dead body.
“Hey Ramsay.” Petyr shouted through the door, he could hear the smile in his
voice. “How hungry do you think you're dogs are?”
Ramsay chuckled sadistically.
“There's nothing you can do to me, Baelish!” He yelled back up the stairs. “My
dogs won't hurt me and as soon as I have them I'm breaking down the door and
tearing your lungs out.”
“We'll see about that shall we?!” Did Littlefinger just giggle?“Good luck!”
Suddenly the basement door opened and before Bolton could take even an inch
towards the door high up the stairs his two Rottweilers came hurtling down
towards him and the door slammed again. Ramsay's face grew serious when the two
animals snarled and took steady steps closer, they couldn't possibility be
thinking about hurting him? He owned them! Yet with a rumble in their stomachs
and the scent of all that fresh blood he couldn't really be sure any longer.
“No.” He said sternly filling his voice with as much authority as he could.
“Obey your Master!”
The snarling grew louder and then all Petyr, Sansa and Theon could hear was
screaming.  Long agonising screams that had long forgotten words, the sound of
tearing flesh and deep snarles had almost been drown out by Bolton's screams.
Petyr wouldn't stand there and listen to it, not when Sansa hung half-
unconscious  in the other slave's arms, in seconds Baelish held her tight
against his chest where she instinctively gripped the dark fabric of his
clothing.
T heon – because he refused to be Reek any longer, especially now Bolton was
dead, or at least very close to being dead – followed along being Littlefinger
as he trudged out of the house and off into the far off tree line, the older
man looked so driven and determined, so full of care for Sansa.  A sleek Aston
Martin came into view and Theon knew he was finally free. Petyr carefully lay
Sansa down in the back seat and all but shoved Theon in beside her before
climbing in the front and driving away from the gargantuan cabin. Eyes that had
been dead for so long stared out the window  at the darkness, occasionally the
orange flash of a street lamp would fill the car illuminating Sansa's pale
flesh revealing deep cuts and large bruises that Ramsay had caused in such a
short time.
S uddenly the car grounded to a halt and an instinctive flash of fear surged up
his spine though he knew he had nothing to fear from Petyr Baelish, for now at
least. Petyr hopped out the car on the abandoned dark road almost cocooned by a
canopy of trees.
“Get out.” Said the dark-haired man with temples of ash as soon as he'd opened
the back passenger side door.
Theon practically leapt from his seat when Petyr pulled his Colt Gold Cup from
it's holster and aim at the younger man, he's thought he'd be free of all the
agony but maybe he had been wrong, maybe the goodness he'd seen the those
seafoam eyes was a lie,  maybe today really was the day he died. Petyr took a
breath.
“Theon you have two options. One: I put a bullet in your head and leave you
here for the animals. Two: you follow the left road.” Baelish pointed ahead of
the car to a fork in the road. “That will take you into the city, it's only a
quarter of a mile.”
“Two.” Theon said quickly. “Option two.”
“Good choice.” Petyr grinned smugly. “However, there are rules. You can tell
anyone you like about being kidnapped but you never reveal it was Ramsay who
took you, never saw their face. You never tell anyone about my or Sansa's
involvement, ever!If you do I'll kill you before you've finished every
syllable, I promise you that” The Greyjoy nodded in understanding knowing he
didn't have much choice but to agree. “Finally, we willmeet again and when that
happened I want you to do everything in your power to convince your father and
sister to sign a contract with Lion and Stag, specifically to me. Do you
understand, Theon?”
The younger man responded timidly. “Yes.”
“Good. I saved your life Theon Greyjoy, you owe me. Now go.”
Theon didn't wait he just ran down the road in the direction Petyr had pointed
while the elder man climbed back into the car and looked into the back seat.
Sansa had fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd set her down ,  despite all the
bruising she was still utterly beautiful and Petyr couldn't help but smile at
his girl.
“You'll be alright, Sweetling. I'm here.”
Without another word Petyr drove away taking the opposite fork to Theon
towards home.
                                     XXXX
“Breaking News! Earlier this morning Roose Bolton and his twenty-one year old
son, Ramsay, were found dead in their vacation home. According to police, the
Bolton's were attacked by their own dogs in the basement of their home, the
dogs in question, two Rottweilers, have since been captured by animal control.
They were discovered by Myranda Royce,the late Ramsay Bolton's girlfriend,after
three days of no contact and the Police are yet to release an official
statement. Lion and Stag Enterprises are also yet to release their own,Roose
Bolton served as the companies CSO or Chief Security Officer with Ramsay Bolton
as his deputy.These are the third and fourth deaths in a string of tragedies
for the multi-billion dollar corporation as well as the retirement of Mister
Pycelle the long time CLO – Chief Legal Officer – and recent breakdown of
Cersei Lannister due to the murders of her son and Father. Attempts to contact
Jaime Lannister have been made but he is yet to make himselfavailable to answer
our questions.Hopefully we'll have more information later on today. I'm
ClaudetteOlafsdotterreporting from outside the Bolton's residence for KLN.”
The screen flicked back to the anchorman, a blue background of large screens
behind him and wearing a charcoal suit  and hideous paisley tie.
“Thank you Claudette. In other news Theon Greyjoy has been found alive
wandering the streets on Saturday morning, Mister Greyjoy has been missing and
presumed dead for the last two years and is the heir to the Iron Isle Shipping
company, a family business first started in the nineteen-twenties. Reports
indicate he has no memory of the horrific events he's been through however, it
has been conformed that Theon Greyjoy was kidnapped-”
Petyr didn't need to hear more than that, Theon wouldn't reveal Petyr's
involvement. He was the weak link in Baelish's plan but Theon had held, Police
wouldn't find any evidence of himself, Sansa or Theon at the cabin; he'd made
deathly sure of that. Rising from the black leather couch Petyr turned off the
television and took a deep breath while wondering what to make for dinner,
they'd had Baeckeoffe the night before but there was some wonderful swordfish
in the fridge that he'd gotten from the market the night before. Petyr never
got further in his thoughts thanks to the sudden crying that erupted from
upstairs.
Baelish followed his feet up the staircase that hugged the dark purple walls as
it spiralled and into Tristan's room. With careful hands he picked up the young
boy and cradled him gently in strong arms.
“Shhh, Tristan. You're Mother needs her sleep, especially after everything
that's happened.”
Tristan only wanted some attention and quietened down almost as soon as his
father came into view, he clung to Petyr's plum colored shirt tightly. Petyr
didn't say a word, just silently indulged his son. Everything was silent and
peaceful.
“Daddy.” Tristan mumbled softly and Petyr smiled.
“Yeah that's me now, isn't it? No getting away from that one.”
“Mama!” Tristan's little voice was adamant and Petyr couldn't help but smile
down at the dark haired boy.
“We'll go and check on her but no loud noises.”
Caring Tristan into Sansa's room at the end of the hall Petyr found himself
settling into the idea of being a real Father, Sansa and Tristan were his
family now... It's taken me a while to realise that.They found Sansa tucked up
fast asleep just where Petyr had left her, thick duck egg blue drapes remained
closed darkening the room and preserving the illusion of night; though some
daylight did creep in from underneath. She lay on her back with silk sheets up
to her neck, face half purple thanks to Ramsay's beating and thick bandages
around her wrists due to the cuffs. He set the young boy down who instantly
crawled towards his Mother in search of warmth and comfort, Petyr couldn't
blame Tristan, who wouldn't want to snuggle up to Sansa and stay there forever?
Instinctively Baelish rested a large palm on her stomach and smiled, not one of
those smug smiles he was famous for or even one of the devilish grins, no, this
was a pure smile of happiness that were oh so rare. After a moment his other
hand rose up to check her temperature, cool; no infection. Physically Sansa
would recover but the mental scars Joffrey, Ramsay and their so-called friends
had caused wouldn't heal so easily, people said that time healed all wounds but
Petyr knew the truth, yes time let the wounds scar and fade but they never
left, never, it didn't matter how hard someone fought to forget it would always
remain.
All the work Sansa had put in over the last year – learning to read, go outside
on her own,  make friends with Tyrion and Olyvar, smile, accept she was a
person and not a slave – had all been torn down by Ramsay and his thirst for
dominance and sadistic torture. If Petyr could kill him again he would, slow
and painfully with his bare hands, alas that wasn't possible.  Petyr couldn't
bring back the dead and if he could he would have brought his Mother back many
years ago.
Gently the redheads eyes started to flutter open and Lady took the opportunity
to hop up onto the bed from her place on the wooden floor, crawling over to her
Mistress and nuzzling into her side.
“Master?” She muttered sleepily.
“Hey Sweetling. Don't move too quickly okay?” She didn't seem to be listening.
“Master, Ram-” He cut her off with a smooth tone.
“He's dead. He can't hurt you anymore, no one will I promise you.” It wasn't
just an promise but an oath.
Sansa tried to move but as soon as she did her body hissed out in pain.
“Mama!” Tristan cried in worry.
“Tristan hush.” Petyr turned his head back to his girl. “Don't move so fast.”
Carefully Petyr helped her to sit up and pushed a pillow behind Sansa to keep
her propped up, the child cuddled up closer.
“What happened?” Her voice was timid and scared just like when they'd first
met, it was heartbreaking.
“That's a long story, baby girl. First I need you to tell me how you feel.”
“Sansa's head hurts a bit and her back too.”
Petyr cringed upon hearing her fall back into third person but he didn't
question it, there would be time for that. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips
reminding her he cared.
“Okay, tell me if the pain gets any worse.”
Sansa nodded. “What happened?” She asked again while pulling Tristan onto her
lap.
Petyr sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, tucking an am around her
shoulders.
“Do you remember Bolton taking you?” She nodded again. “With the help of his
slave, Theon, I managed to get to you, as for Ramsay, I fed him to his dogs.”
Petyr paused for a moment. “Then I brought you home and got you a doctor...
Sansa there's something you should know. Please don't freak out.”
                                     XXXX
Petyr stood in by the bed made up in navy sheets looking down at his darling
Sansa with grass colored eyes full of worry and concern. Doctor Jaelynn Ootori
stood on the other side checking the redheads pusle and doing other doctor-
y things, to be honest Petyr didn't care what she did as long as she helped his
darling Sansa; Doctor Ootori had been in his pocket for years and was the only
doctor he'd let near his girl. It took him a moment – he'd been too lost in his
own thoughts – but eventually he realised she was speaking in that Northen
accent of hers.
“... You told me on the phone that she'd been beaten so that's why I'm doing an
ultrasound. Don't want to miss any internal bleeding.” Said the doctor peering
closer at the screen her braided blonde hair falling over her right shoulder
while her left hand continued to move the sensor over Sansa's exposed stomach.
Petyr glanced at it too but it really meant nothing to him, just grey and black
blobs, instead his moss colored eyes fell back to a sleeping Sansa. However, he
couldn't help but notice Doctor Ootori's shaped eyebrows fly upwards and her
back hunch as she got even closer to the little screen.
“What?” It was both a question and a demand.
“Em, well... if I'm looking at this right...”
“Spit it out!”
“She's... pregnant.”
And just like that everything stopped, his dastardly plans, all thoughts, even
time grounded to a halt. He was stuck between the tick and the tock, no
breathing, no speaking, Petyr just stood there staring down at his sweet Sansa.
There had been birds flying over the bay outside but he'd fallen deaf to them,
Lady had cuddled up to Sansa's side and snored but that sound didn't reach him
either. She was... pregnant – Sansa was pregnant. Suddenly his mind snapped
back and the world started to revolve once more, birds chirped, Lady snored
softly and Petyr regained the ability to speak and think.
“Pregnant?” Was all he managed to get out.
“Yes, pregnant. Going on eleven weeks by the looks of it. She'll start to show
properly soon, I'd say she hasn't already because of how damn skinny she is.
Has she had any nausea?” The blonde doctor asked.
“Yes.”
Was this actually happening? Petyr found himself fitting pieces together that
he'd not even known were part of a puzzle; Sansa had been complaining of nausea
for weeks and he'd just brushed it off as something stress related, she'd put
on weight too though that was a little less noticeable because of how
undernourished she'd been when he found her. Pregnant, all those years she'd
spent with Joffrey and yet after only a few times of him stupidly forgetting
protection she was carrying his child. 'How could I be so careless?'
Petyr was much too lost in his own mind to hear what Doctor Ootori said next,
Sansa was going to freak out.
                                     XXXX
“Master?” There was panic and fear in her voice as well as a lack of
understanding.
“I was as shocked as you, Sweetling.” He tried to sound calm knowing it would
help ground her. He took a breath. “I... I have two doctors on standby, one
works at an abortion clinic and the other is the best OB/GYN in the city. The
first doctor can get rid of it while the second helps take care of it until
it's born.” Petyr shuffled up the bed a little watching how she clung to
Tristan. “This is your choice and you don't have to make it now. Take as long
as you like just thing about it, don't do what you think I want, do what you
want. Concentrate on getting better first.”
He didn't want to force her into anything. There was silence for a long time,
Sansa's whole body had gone rigid and tense – not that Petyr could blame her –
blue eyes darted about anxiously and teeth bit her cut bottom lip. He didn't
mean to make her feel like this but it was unavoidable. Knowing it would help –
and he desperately wanted to touch her – Petyr pulled her into his arms
carefully and held her close
“You're safe.” He told her with all the emotion he could push into his voice.
“Anyone who ever hurt you is dead and gone. You're safe. I love you.”
Sansa smiled weakly at that, those three little words made her heart soar high
above the darkness of her fears and pain. Over her short life Sansa had become
accustom to hearing lies but Petyr – the King of lies – only spoke the truth,
he truly loved her and that made those words even more important to her.
“I love you too.” She told him in her mouse like voice, slipping out of thrid
person.
They stayed like that for a long time, Sansa securely in her loving Master's
arms while Lady and Tristan snoozed at her side without a care in the world.
The young girl cuddled into Petyr's chest and he rested his chin atop her head;
the scent of his cologne soothed her nerves. After what could have been forever
Sansa spoke.
“What happened? I... I don't really remember.”
“Good.” Was all Petyr said.
***** Press Conference *****
 
                               XXXXFLASHBACKXXXX
                                        
Petyr Baelish had returned to the gargantuan log cabin in the very early hours
of the morning, the sun wouldn't grace the world with it's  presence for hours,
he'd left an unconscious and beaten Sansa with Lady and Olyvar who'd been full
of questions; not that Petyr was willing to give any answers. Olyvar was the
only one he trusted enough to watch over his girl after all that had happened –
he still wasn't entirely comfortable with that – and Lady would guard her
Mistress with her life.
His feet carried him down the wooden stairs into the basement just like hours
earlier though this time there hadn't been a beaten Sansa at the bottom. To his
right lay the two Rottweilers flat out in a pool of crimson blood with scraps
of Ramsay Bolton still hanging from their mouths, the animals were so full that
they couldn't be bothered to even notice Petyr's presence; he was grateful for
that.
“Good boys.” He praised with a smug grin when the smaller of the two
Rottweilers wiped its paw over its face knocking free a sliver of flesh.
It was a shame, Petyr had no doubt these two dogs had once been friendly and
playful... then Ramsay got a hold of them. Green eyes glanced over to see Roose
hanging in place of Sansa,  he smiled seeing the dogs had gone at Roose's
corpse as well, his abdomen had been torn open hiding all evidence he'd been
stabbed which was a rather nice little boon. Carefully he let the older man
down from the cuffs – which hadn't bruised his wrists thanks to the fabric
Petyr had wrapped around them hours previous and the helpful aid of gravity –
and lay him on the floor soaking his back with wine colored blood from the pool
that had yet to dry.
He had to work quickly and get back to his girl so pulled his black latex
gloves up his wrists a little further then set to work unscrewing the heavy
cuffs from the ceiling; that task was made much easier thanks to a silver
stepladder he spied in the corner. Once removed they vanished into his ever
present duffel bag. Sansa's blood had merged with that of Roose and Ramsay
becoming unidentifiable – thankfully,  saves me a job –  but Petyr had to be
careful not to step in the vast splashes of ichor.
The whip, riding crop and other such monstrosities used to torture his girl
were unceremoniously dropped into the dark bag as well never to be seen again.
After that he wiped down everything Sansa could have touched in her short time
at the cabin. It didn't take long to find Ramsay's bedroom – third door on the
left –  his bag lay untouched on the bed as though he'd not even thought about
unpacking and beside it lay a small box of perverted sickness; seemed he'd not
expected killing Baelish to take that long.
“Poor Ramsay, he didn't think it through.”
Inside the blue lacquer box were photograph after photograph of the pain
Ramsay'd inflicted upon Theon and his darling redhead and it made him angrier
than he'd ever felt before. Pure fury filled his blood heating it to the
temperature of lava, his hands gripped the box so tightly that the wood started
to creek under the pressure of his white fingertips; his girl's pain was notan
amazement to be spectated over as though it were a sport. Ten points if she
bruises a hundred points if she cries,his mind growled.
He had to force himself to take deep slow breaths for a few moments before
getting himself back on task hiding all evidence they'd been there, he couldn't
destroy everything of Theon because he just didn't know what he'd touched and
Petyr couldn't wipe the whole house or burn it to the ground – like he wanted
to – because police would grow far too suspicious. He wanted to race back to
the redhead and get Doctor Ootori to check her over but he couldn't leave
things half done, Oly would have called if there was a problem. The man with
hair of ask and coal worked quickly and precisely refusing to make a mistake
that would put Sansa in jeopardy. He hoped it was all over now, that she was
truly safe, he'd never let anyone else hurt her.  I love you too, the words
echoed around his head drowning out everything else, she loved him but what was
even more surprising was that he loved her back. Truly he did. All his life
Petyr thought he'd only ever loved Catelyn, but stood there in the Bolton cabin
Petyr wondered if what he'd felt for Cat had just been a teenage boy's
interpretation of love. Everything he felt for Sansa was so much  more than
anything he'd ever felt for Catelyn. He'd only had a crush on her, a long lived
infatuation that meant nothing in the end, his heart belonged to Sansa.
He finished his tasks with a rapturous smile.
                                     XXXX
Two months had passed by since that awful night in the cabin and Sansa had made
tremendous recovery, her bruises had faded almost to nothingness and her lip
had healed, the mental recovery would take longer but she was brave and strong.
It was a nice day, rich blues and wisps of white clouds surrounding a dazzling
sun. The sort of day that made Sansa happy. Reporters had been set up outside
Lion and Stag Enterprises for a good half hour with their cameras in front of a
stage platform and podium, the news stations had been waiting for this press
announcement for weeks, some had come all the way from Dorne to find out just
what was going on with the most powerful company in Westeros. They all eagerly
awaited the CEO Jaime Lannister, he'd not given a public statement since Cersei
had been committed. However, instead of the blonde they got the CFO Petyr
Baelish, behind him stood a brunette with shoulder length hair that hung in
delicate curls. She wore a white blouse with black polka dots and three-quarter
sleeves and a black pencil skirt, she looked nervous but that wasn't what the
reporters focused on, they focused on the fact she was pregnant.
A hush descended over the crowd when Baelish walked up to the microphone and
shot everyone his best charismatic smile, only Sansa saw that it didn't reach
his eyes. There was total silence, as though they were being addressed by the
King.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, good afternoon and thank you all for coming.” He began
in a deep dominant tone. “As you can see I'm not Jaime Lannister, I'm Petyr
Baelish the CFO of Lion and Stag Enterprises. In the last year this company has
suffered several personal losses; Joffrey Baratheon the former VP, Tywin
Lannister our CEO since the companies creation, Cersei Lannister who we had
hoped would take over the role of Vice President, our CLO Pycelle retired, and
most recently Roose and Ramsay Bolton the companies CSO and deputy.” Petyr was
a natural at speech giving. “We at Lion and Stag are fully aware of the mass
rumours going around that this company will breakdown and I am here today,
before all you good people, to put those rumours to rest. With the retirement
of our CLO, Samwell Tally will be taking over his position. We felt it
disrespectful to fill the role of CSO so quickly after the Bolton tragedy,
however, with Lion and Stag being such a large company we found ourselves
forced to, because of this we have appointed Sandor Clegane.”
Petyr let everyone take note of those changes before moving on, he could see
the confusion still in some of their eyes and it made him internally grin. This
was going perfectly.
“I suppose you're all wondering why I am giving this announcement rather than
Jaime Lannister? Earlier today Mister Lannister informed me he was stepping
down as CEO of the company -” Every single person present perked up as though
they'd discovered alchemy. Questions erupted from the reporters quickly, so
many voices each over another. “Please, please.” Slowly quiet returned. “Mister
Lannister has decided to spend his time caring for his sister, Cersei, as well
as his niece and nephew. Due to this Mister Lannister will be taking over of
CEO at Vaith Incorporated in Dorne, Vaith will remain linked to Lion and Stag
but Jaime Lannister will no longer be head of the company. Viktorya Cratter,
who has been at Vaith Incorporated will be taking my position as Chief
Financial Officer -”
The reporters burst into a line of questioning yet again cutting Petyr off.
“Are you leaving Lion and Stag as well, Mister Baelish?” A young blonde asked.
“I will be leaving my position as CFO yes, but not the company. I am to be Lion
and Stag's new CEO.”
 
“How did this come about?” Asked a different reporter, this time a middle aged
man with a balding head.
“Why you?” Questioned another woman.
He was loving every single second of this, Sansa could tell even while trying
to appear confident behind him and to the left; she wasn't loving the press
announcement. Instinctively a hand went to her round belly.
“Jaime Lannister had entrusted Lion and Stag to me due to my many years with
this company and the fact I have been acting CEO during the Lannister's
mourning.” More questions were shouted out but Petyr ignored them all. “I have
one final announcement, taking over the role of Vice President will be Alayne
Stone. Alayne?”
He turned to Sansa offering her a reassuring smile that said  you can do this,
Sweetling. Just like I told you.  She took up position at the podium right
beside her Master; surely all this stress wasn't good for their baby.  Master
said you're brave, you can do this, you can do this. The redhead chanted those
words in her head almost religiously, she knew exactly what to say, had
memorised every word; that didn't make her any less terrified though. There
were so many people, so many cameras, she gulped. As soon as Sansa felt Petyr
rest his hand on her lower back she surged with courage and strength, nothing
could scare her when he was by her side.  Be brave.
“... Thank you... I'm Alayne Stone, the new Vice President of Lion and Stag
Enterprises.” Petyr had told her to look at one of the news vans on the other
side of the street and focus on it, and surprisingly it was helping. She took a
deep breath. “There have been many changes to the top level executives as of
late, many of which caused by horrible tragedies... but... but where confident
that... that these changes lead to a successful and long lasting team.”
Strangely as she went on speaking grew easier.
Suddenly a reporter butted in, this one had tanned skin and a clear Dornish
accent.
“Lion and Stag has always prided itself on being a family company, several
generations of Lannisters have worked for the company. It's practically the
company motto.”
Petyr hadn't schooled Sansa on what to say to anything like that so opened his
mouth to jump in but was amazed to find Sansa didn't need him at all.  I told
you that you were brave my darling girl.
“It will remain a family company.”
That was where her bravery failed, maybe she did need him after all. Smiling
Petyr stepped back up to the microphone and helped her, his tone remained kind
and good-hearted.
“Alayne is my fiancée, we're also about to add a second child to our family.”
That set off a chain reaction of reporters yelling out questions, a wave of
noise that made little to no sense. It didn't matter though, Petyr wouldn't
have answered even if he could have understood the questions, he wouldn't get
into all that without having had time to scripted his answers.
“Thank you but that is all for today. Mister Lannister won't be giving a formal
statement as to his resignation but will soon hold a press conference in Dorne
about his new position as Vaith Incorporated's CEO.”
Petyr guided Sansa back into the building and up to the fifty-first floor of
Lion and Stag then down the long hallways into the boardroom. Inside they found
Gwendolyn holding Tristan in her motherly arms, Lady padded over to Sansa the
second she came into view. She smiled when they entered.
“Fiancée?” She teased Petyr.
This was why he'd needed his assistant on side, she would have been the only
person other than Sansa and Tyrion to be aware of any subtle changes in his
plots and plans, he had to keep her happy.
“Gwendolyn -” He began with a gentle trustworthy smile, the one he always wore
when he wanted something. “- I know you won't understand this but please -” Oh
that wasn't a word he used often. “- there were reasons and it was better to
tell you she was my niece.”
“Because Cersei was trying to get rid of you and having a child with an under-
age girl would have given her major ammunition?”
“Yes.” He said quickly, his blonde assistant had come up with a rather nice
little story to believe. He could work with that. “You're very astute, I'm
lucky to have you.”
“Oh Mister Baelish you'll make me blush. You love Alayne and that is all that
matters.” She smiled thinking he meant it. “Don't worry I'll keep the press out
of the building, I doubt they'll dare try to get Mister Clegane.” She handed
Tristan back to his mother.
“Thank you, Gwendolyn, and I think you may be right.”
With that she was gone and Sansa watched Petyr's mask slip away to reveal her
perfect Master. He turned to face her grinning ear-to-ear, right hand loosening
his emerald green tie. Tristan cuddled into her chest and Petyr found it
amusing Sansa holding Tristan and pregnant, it made her look so innocent when
in reality she was just as calculating and dark as he was; she just lacked the
confidence.
“Is it all yours now, Master?” She asked softly. “All of it?”
“Yes, baby girl.” He strode across the room and took her into his arms, Tristan
and bump as well - she'd agonised over telling Petyr she wanted to keep their
child, with Tristan he'd been so reserved. In the end Petyr had just come hime
one day and tossed her a book of baby names, he wasn't stupid and deep down
he'd been hoping she'd decided to keep their baby. “All mine, oursreally, you
are VP after all.”
“Why?” The word was muttered into his chest.
“The Lannisters took everything from you, now we have taken everything from
them; their company and even their lives.” He rested his chin on the top of her
head. “To the world Sansa Stark is dead, and unfortunately she has to remain
that way, but we know the truth. Wolf's blood runs through your veins. I have
Tywin's throne and you sit by my side, now and forever. It doesn't matter that
you don't know how to be VP, I'll teach you as time goes on. And, with you as
my Vice President I know my second in command isn't trying to overthrow me.”
His lips found Sansa's own in a soft kiss.
“Can I take this wig off soon?” She asked with a grin once their kiss broke and
Petyr just chuckled.
“In a few months when everything has died down you can, if anyone asks we'll
say you dyed your hair.”
“Good.” She'd never voiced it before but she really did hate the auburn wig.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Sansa asked with a puzzled face.
“For giving me everything.” Without her his plan could have taken years.
The redhead shook her head profusely and buried it back into his chest.
“No, Master. It's the other way around.”
“I wouldn't be so sure. I want to show you something, baby girl.” Said Petyr
while removing his dark grey suit jacket and throwing it down on the glass
conference table.
He rolled up the sleeve of his tattooed arm, there fresh and bold in the gap
that had gone unfilled for years was a red wolf surrounded by small flashes of
purple. At the bottom was a small calligraphy style S, simple and black.
“You filled it!” Sansa beamed.
“I did... with you. You're what I've been missing, and as rom-com as that
sounds it's true.”
“I love you, Petyr.”
“I love you too, Sweetling.”
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
     So here it is, the last chapter of Broken Chains. I massive thank you
     to everyone whose read, commented and left Kudos, I love you all!!! :
     -) As you've probably noticed I've turned this into a series called
     Wolves And Mockingbirds so there will be more Petyr/Sansa soon. I've
     finished with the plot ideas so In a few weeks when I've got a
     stockpile of chapters written I'll start posting on a weekly basis
     for you all.
     Again, a massive thank you to you all and I hope you enjoy.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Sansa straddled the man she loved, hands rested on his charcoal suit clad
shoulders while he had his tattooed arm around her waist and the other
supporting them on their bed; lips locked in heated kissing. She tasted so
perfect to him, her skin was soft and supple. Her belly had grown round now had
started to show properly; their child had first kicked while they slept and it
had woken Petyr before Sansa. He loved her so much and enjoyed every single
second he got to touch her., all that beautiful innocence hiding the dark
cunning they shared.
“I love you, Master.” She told him between kisses.
 Sansa only called him Master when they were in bed together now, Petyr wasn't
certain when that had started but he found that it just gave the title even
more meaning, that and hearing her voice say his real name was better than all
the power in the world.
 Suddenly as he made to slowly flip Sansa onto her back the doorbell rang.
 “Ignore it.” Petyr commanded before going to press open-mouthed kisses down
her smooth neck.
The bell continued to chime though, sometimes in a rhythm, sometimes sharp and
desperate. Whoever was at the door showed no sign of leaving unfortunately.
 “That's it!” Petyr shot up from the bed and grabbed his gun from the night
stand. “I don't care who it is but I'm killing them.”
 Petyr didn't usually lose his temper but people coming between him and his
beloved certainly got him there. He marched out the room leaving Sansa to
straighten her teal dress and follow, thankfully Tristan slept meaning Petyr
wouldn't be moving a dead body around in front of their son;  when did I get so
used to death?  The doorbell sounded as though it were going to soon die a
painfully horrible death as they descended the winding staircase, forcefully
Petyr pulled open the door only to find Cersei Lannister staring back at him,
gun aimed at his head.
Shit!
 There was a brief pause where Petyr wore an expression similar to that of an
Animé character in shock, had Cersei not been stood there with a Beretta
trained at her soon to be husbands head Sansa would have found it comical.
 Cersei's hair was everywhere – a real mess that went far beyond flyaways – and
an ill-fitting dress was all that coated her rather than her the usual Prada.
Her nails had chipped and lacked polish, black circles ran rampant around her
eyes and her sin had lost its gentle tan despite having spent so long in Dorne.
Petyr raised an eyebrow of confusion at the vagrant before him rather than fear
but still he shifted slightly to block Sansa from her; the redhead's hands
automatically went to her baby bump guarding their unborn child.
“Good morning.” He said in that deadpan dominant tone of his. If she's escaped
why wasn't I informed? Why the fuck do I pay these people?
 There was a fire in her eyes making Cersei really look like a lioness. She
continued to twitch as though still drugged or maybe she'd actually lost her
mind, Petyr could only hope so.
“You think you can take everything from me!?” She screamed, gun flapping in his
face with a complete lack of skill. “Think you can just-”
 Petyr didn't have time for Cersei's drugged up crap and simply pistol whipped
her ending her rant;   she was clearly manic and sleep deprived  so it was easy
for him to strike before   Cersei even knew he had moved, all she knew was that
she'd crashed to the gravel floor; head throbbing   and gun knocked away. It
had surprised him a little that she remained conscious but didn't think much
about it and instead simply axe kicked her into slumber.
“Sansa, I'm getting too old for this shit.” He sighed.
“Nonsense, and would you please get rid of her before she wakes Tristan or
someone sees her?”
 Petyr hadn't killed anyone since Ramsay Bolton and that was months ago, their
life had started to grow into something that could have been deemed   normal
but Cersei had brought it all back in seconds. The woman meant nothing to Sansa
though, not after everything that had happened; Cersei didn't deserve any care
or a simple kindness.    Cersei Lannister wasn't a person, she was a rabid
lioness that needed putting down.
 “Of course, Sweetling. Start dinner for me would you please?” He looked up the
sky where he found the sun hinting that it would soon go to bed. “I should be
back by the time it's finished.”
 Sansa nodded and kissed him before watching him roughly sling Cersei over his
shoulder and toss her into the DB5'S trunk.
                                      XXXX
 Cersei awoke cold and in darkness hours later, she was naked and had her hands
cuffed behind her back. Looking around the darkness she found herself sat in
the middle of a glade; this wasn't good. Her left ankle strung and throbbed,
when sheloked down she saw how swollen it had becom; clearly broken preventing
her from running.
 “I was wondering when you'd wake up.” Petyr appeared from the shadows and
crouched down before her. “I started to worry I'd hit you a little too hard.”
 “Fuck you, Baelish!” She screeched.
“Always so feisty.” He grinned as though it were all a joke, a game; knowing
Petyr it probably was. “What was your ill thought out plan, huh Cersei?” His
gun hung loosely between his legs where he'd crouched. “Was it to yell insults
and then shoot me? To kill Sansa and my children then force Jaime to retake
Lion and Stag until you figured out how to take over yourself?” Actually that
was exactly her plan. “I bet it was, Cersei. You see, you're smart, very smart,
but you act before you've figured out all the possibilities, you're trigger
happy. That is why none of your little plots ever turn out like you intended
while mine always do.”
“You and that whore killed Joffrey! You did all this!”
He grinned again, devilish green-grey eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
“I wondered when you'd figure that out. As I said you're a smart one, terrible
on execution but smart.”
 “You won't kill me! People know I'm here!” That actually made Petyr laugh.
“Don't lie to me, it insults my intelligence. No one knows you're here because
no one would have freely let you leave the hospital and come here with a gun –
by the way a Beretta 92FS is too heavy for you to aim accurately with – and
you're too arrogant to have told anyone your great genius plan.” The sarcasm
just dripped from his voice. “Cersei, you crave power even more than I do, you
wish to rule everything rather than be a CEO, Queen Cersei. Lannisters make
plans in search of revenge for fallen family, I however, will kill you before
you even get close to hurting mine, that's what separates you and I. Lannisters
seek revenge for what they've lost instead of protecting what they already
have. I'll never let you threaten my power or Sansa and my children but I'll
let you be Queen. You can be Queen of all this.” Petyr spread his arms wide
gesturing to the dell that surrounded them. "I own this land – well, via
several proxies and even more assumed names – but I'm gifting it all to you,
congratulations.” If sarcasm and smugness were blades Petyr would have flayed
Cersei by now. “The first body I disposed of is here, decomposing. Buried deep,
deep down though what with the wolves. This place is called Dwellers Hollow,
macabre and just screaming death, isn't it? All the winding trees and constant
fog.” Only then did she realise just how dark and supernatural the place was,
before it had just been a dark glade but now she saw the sharp rocks stacked up
with caves hidden away, the mist and eerie trees; Cersei wouldn't be afraid
though. “I like it here, it's almost mythical as though dragons will suddenly
fly overhead. You want to be Queen, well you can be Queen of this and remain
forever, eternally. Scatter you so you can see all the land at once.”
“Scatter?” She questioned.
“Oh, does that finally spark some fear? You remember the wolves I mentioned?
They'll rip you apart until all that remains is nibbled marrow remains. I think
wolves are fitting, you took everything from Sansa and now the wolves will do
the same to you; wolves are my girl personified. You want to know the best
bit?” Petyr leaned in close. “Not even Jaime will care that you're gone, not
for long anyway. Tommen and Mrycella might even be relieved.”
“Bastard! You won't get away with this! You won't!” Cersei screamed
uncontrollably.
 Petyr's   eyes squinted with genuine puzzlement and his head tilted to one
side.
“Why wouldn't I? I've been successfully disposing of bodies for two and a half
decades, do you really think you're any different to any of them? No, you're
not special, never have been and certainly never will be.” Petyr rose to his
full height and checked he had one in the chamber. “Goodbye Cersei, I'd say I'm
sorry but I'm really not. Who knows, maybe you'll see Joffrey in hell”
 Everything in Cersei told her to launch to her feet and run but her body
refused to cooperate thanks to the pain in her ankle, along with the mass of
drugs still in her system – she'd pretty much slept all the way though her trip
from Dorne – and maybe her physical form had given up too,   her brain just
hadn't gotten the memo. It didn't really matter,   Petyr didn't care and Cersei
didn't have long enough to figure it out, With eyes locked Petyr fired. Cersei
Lannister was no more.   Petyr stood there silently for a time   before he
sighed and slipped his Colt Gold Cup into its holster
 “Shame there aren't actually any wolves this far south.” Yet another sigh.
“Well, let's tip you into the grave so I can go home and eat with Sansa. Didn't
dig six feet for nothing.”
In the end Cersei did get a kingdom to rule over, however, it was two foot wide
and six foot deep.
                                      XXXX
Just over five months had gone by since Petyr had become CEO of Lion and Stag,
six days over to be exact – not that Petyr had been counting how many days over
due Sansa was. However, in the early hours of that morning she woke him by
slapping him in his sleeping face, the bed was been wet and Lady had gone into
full guard mode. It took him a few seconds to realise she was in labour, he'd
not been expecting the child to be born then but Baelishs were nothing if not
unpredictable. He dressed in a heartbeat and carried her down to the car before
going back for Tristan. Lady tried her best to follow – going so far as to
growl at Petyr – but unfortunately for her there were no dogs allowed on a
maternity ward. By the time they returned Lady probably would have destroyed
the front door with scratches.
Sansa hadn't registered much of what was happening as Petyr drove towards the
hospital, just the timetable bursts of agony that thundered through her body;
there was one thing she notice though and that was that Petyr looked more
afraid than she did. He occasionally muttered something, probably comforts and
words of reassurance but Sansa didn't know for sure. Her contractions were the
worst pain she'd ever felt and that was saying something for her. Fear, panic
and so many other emotions clouded her mind but the second Petyr gripped her
hand she knew everything would be alright.
The next eight hours had been utter agony for Sansa despite the pain relief
given to her by nurses, she'd almost broken Petyr's hand by gripping onto it so
tightly but he didn't complain. He'd refused to leave her either and a nurse
had been kind enough to take Tristan to the daycare once it had opened, Petyr
hadn't liked the idea of a group of strangers near his son – yes, he'd finally
grown accustom to that word – but Sansa needed him there, she was his priority;
her and their child.
Sansa knew it wasn't Petyr's fault she was in such pain – he had left the
choice to have their child completely up to her, though there was no denying
he'd been pleased when she said they were keeping it – but that didn't stop her
wanting to yell at him.  Can't blame Master for the baby.
The baby, had been what they'd been calling their child as for the duration of
her pregnancy, Sansa hadn't wanted to know the baby's gender and Petyr had
allowed it despite Sansa being well aware he wanted to know. He'd already
chosen Ezra for a boy even though Sansa liked Robb, after her brother. Olyvar
had kept saying his name was great for a kid but both parents had ignored him.
Her mind faded out again when the doctor told her to push and that was exactly
what Sansa did, she blocked out all the pain she felt, all the fear, and
focused on Petyr right beside her, on the love she already felt for her child.
“It's a girl!” The doctor called out.
They'd not chosen any girl name, couldn't ever agree, and from all the
kickboxer style kicking they'd assumed they were having another boy. A little
brother for Tristan. Sansa collapsed against the bed sweating and panting for
air, wet bits of fire-red hair sticking to her forehead while nurses cleaned
off the baby, their daughter;  that's going to take some getting used to she
thought.
When their daughter was clean, wrapped in a little white blanket  and the
doctor had finished with Sansa the nurse tried to hand the baby over but Sansa
shook her head and nodded to Petyr indicating him first. She was exhausted and
just wanted sleep but at the same time she was wired and wanted to see her
daughter. That tiny little life being handed to Petyr was part of them both,
wisps of red hair and no doubt stormy green-grey eyes, her nose and his lips.
“I'll have one of our orderlies go and get your son.” Said the greying nurse
before leaving them alone.
Petyr was dead silent while Sansa continued to pant, only when she realised
just how silent he was did she manage to open her eyes and look at him. At
first she thought something was wrong but then it dawned on her sleepy mind.
“Are you... crying?” His eyes were locked on their daughter and tears did
indeed slowly drip from his eyes. “Petyr?”
“She's perfect.” He whispered without looking up.
Sansa wasn't stupid she knew he'd finally realised what she'd known all along,
there was something more important than power.  Cat was right he thought. There
was a soft smile on his lips, on e   that really did meet his eyes. Normally
Petyr hid his emotions deep inside where no one could use them against him, but
seeing his daughter he'd not only showed his cards but dropped the whole deck.
“... I think I know what we should name her.” Sansa shuffled closer awkwardly,
eager to hear the name he'd chosen. “Do you remember when I came home to find
you drawing for the first time?” Sansa nodded, he didn't see it though Petyr
was too busy staring at their child. “That was the first time you felt free and
safe enough to do something youwanted, something that made you happy. Do you
remember what you were drawing?”
“Yes.” Sansa's smile grew as she peered at her daughter. “I think it suits
her.”
 Petyr pressed a kiss to their daughter's little forehead and Sansa felt her
heart soar.
 
 
“Hello, Poppy.”
 
THE END
Chapter End Notes
     Part two will be
     The Disconcerting Case Of Dwellers Hollow.
End Notes
     Please comment I love reading them.
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