Nimi: Call me Petyr
Kirjoittaja: Crysted
Fandom: Game of Thrones(/A Song of Ice and Fire)
Ikäraja: S
Paritus: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Disclaimer: Omistan vain oman mielikuvitukseni, en hahmoja tai paikkoja
A/N: Eka ficcini tästä fandomista. En saanut betaa tälle, joten kielioppivirheet ovat omiani, toivottavasti niitä ei kauheasti löydy. Äh, en ollut ihan tyytyväinen tähän, alkuun varsinkaan, mutta ei tää pyörittelyllä näytä paremmaksi muuttuvan
Osallistuu haasteeseen
Perspektiiviä parittamiseen #2The night had fallen when Petyr Baelish was finally returning to his chambers from the crown room. After the death of his
beloved -that still amused him- wife Lysa he had had arrangements to do. As he was walking through the corridors in twilight, he saw a figure standing on the balcony. He recognized her immediately, only a girl of north would stand outside during a cold night as this. Her nightgown was fluttering tenuous as a straw as the wind seduced her to stay despite the cold.
Petyr walked towards the girl with such silent footsteps that she didn’t notice him before he was right next to her. She winced as she noticed him.
“Forgive me, my Lady, it wasn’t my intention to scare you”, Petyr apologized, even though the words were lies. He was pleased to see his actions affect Sansa even as small as that had been. He was pleased to see that he had power, not only over the Vale that he was now a step closer to rule, but of the daughter of the only woman he had loved.
“Lord Baelish,” Sansa addressed and dropped a small curtsy. She had never done that to him before, but now as he was the Lord Protector of Vale, Sansa apparently felt the need to behave as was usually expected in company of a man with such title.
“No need for formalities, my child,” Petyr said, still pleased of the new respect he received. He watched Sansa return to her previous position. The light of moon was playing with her purplish nightgown and making justice to her skinny arms the lucid fabric showed. He would lie if he said that didn’t affected him in any way.
“What are you doing here in this time of night?” Petyr asked and watched as Sansa turned to eye the view in front of them. She laid her skinny fingers on the stone fence, her eyes flickering with sadness she tried to hide.
“I was just…” but she didn’t have the words, so she let the rest of the sentence to drop and laid her gaze firmly to her fingers which she squeezed to fists and opened them almost immediately.
“Missing home?” Petyr guessed.
Sansa raised her eyes, seeming hesitated. “Yes.”
He almost chuckled, the girl was so easy to read. Maybe because she looked so much like her mother and Petyr had had all his childhood to observe Catelyn.
“I know I shouldn’t,” Sansa said quickly and returned her eyes to her hands whom were now picking the sleeve of her nightgown. “I should be grateful that I even am here-
I am grateful,” she corrected her words quickly as she looked at Petyr. “I am deeply thankful that you risked so much to smuggle me out from the King’s landing. I am forever in debt.”
“Nonsense, my child,” Petyr denied politely and hid how pleased he actually was to hear the words
in debt. Those words always came in handy someday. “And it’s only natural that your heart yearns home. You should not feel bad for that.”
Sansa gave him a small smile and rested her hands on the fence again. “Vale is such a beautiful place, but it’s not Winterfell,” Sansa said, her eyes above the city, but her mind far away in the North.
“Home,” Petyr savored the word in his mouth. “Such a strange word, don’t you think?”
Sansa didn’t answer but looked at him to continue.
“What is home really?” Petyr wondered. “Is it the place you were born, is it the place you have stayed the longest, or is it the place you are currently staying?”
“A home is the place you cherish the most,” Sansa said, to herself as much as to Petyr. “The place where you have most of your good memories.”
This time Petyr let his approval show by a small chuckle. “That is a worthy answer.” The silence fell, but it wasn’t one of those awkward ones because they were both far away from the balcony they were standing. Sansa as expected in Winterfell, and Petyr much closer to the city, the place where he grew to love Catelyn. He never had the chance of having Catelyn, but her youngster, Sansa, he could have. And what made it so pleasurable, was the knowledge of knowing he already had her. The girl was almost a woman now, as brave and sharp as her mother and even more beautiful than the faded memory of Catelyn he had.
“Memories, those make home, you say,” Petyr said. “Will you cherish Winterfell as you once did if the memories are all you have?”
Sansa’s eyes wandered to him. “What do you mean, my Lord?”
“I’m sorry to say this,” he wasn’t, “I truly am, but a great portion of your family… well, are either missing, or…”
“Dead.” Sansa’s eyes flickered down. “Will the Winterfell I knew be the same without them?” she ended after realizing what he was after.
“I fear return to Winterfell would not only be dangerous but devastating for you emotionally, my Lady,” Petyr said and laid his hand on Sansa’s cold fingers. She winced a little but didn’t pull away. “Would you feel home in a place that you might have born but have no family left?”
The girl remained silent, and Petyr knew he had touched a sore spot. He wasn’t sorry for that, it was a part of his plan, after all. There was no one in Vale Sansa could trust. She might not trust Petyr either, but he surely was the closest person to her in here. Not to forget her debt to him she had mentioned. Petyr only needed to break Sansa so he could be the one to pick up the pieces and to be her hero.
“The good thing about memories is that you can always make new ones,” Petyr sad and brushed Sansa’s fingers gently with his owns. The other hand he placed on her upper back. This time she didn’t wince. “Somewhere safe. With someone who is there for you,” Petyr whispered into her ear and moved his hand on her neck. He didn’t mention trust. The girl would be foolish to trust him and he feared she already knew that. But luckily trust wasn’t his only leverage.
Sansa turned her eyes on him. She was a girl seeking for safety and a place she belonged. Petyr could give her that and in return, he would have a way to the Iron Throne.
Sansa’s eyes were glimmering. Petyr moved his hand on her cheek and brushed it with his thumb. He felt Sansa tense up a bit so he knew he needed to tell her what she wanted to hear. “Sansa sweetling, you are safe now,” Petyr said and moved his other hand on her cheek as well. “You will always be safe with me,” he promised, using his most convincing face to lure Sansa to his arms. It seemed to work, because she softened under his touch and moved closer, only an inch but that was the permission he had been waiting.
“Lord Baelish-“ Sansa started but Petyr cut her short and brushed his thumb over her lips.
“Call me Petyr,” he said and pulled her face to meet his lips. It started as a sweet kiss like the one they shared earlier, the one Lysa had seen. Petyr made sure that first Sansa would get what she needed, safety, but he wanted to show her something else too, the power he had now. She didn’t pull away.
Sansa would be safe with him, for the time being. Petyr left it for the future to decide whether Sansa would be more useful by his side or by someone else’s. After all, Petyr Baelish wanted everything and how he would get all that didn’t matter.
