Chapter 7.
In the Vale, Littlefinger was learning that getting what you want is sometimes more difficult than not having it.
Sweet Robin was a cowardly half-wit. Baelish wasn't sure of how much was due to his mother's influence and how much was due to the boy's natural feeblemindedness. But, after a few months of listening to his whining, Petyr really didn't care. Life would be so much simpler, he decided, if he could send the Robin flying through the Moon Door like his mother.
However, he didn't dare. Not so soon after Lysa's suspicious death. The more you gained in power, the more you had to take center stage and the less you could rely on catspaws to do the dirty work.
Littlefinger would almost have relished it as an intellectual challenge, if it hadn't been for another thing.
Sansa.
Having her in his power and presence was intoxicating. As she continued to blossom, he couldn't help but give her a momentary touch or a stray caress.
One day, his hand drifted a little too far and Sansa slapped it away.
Baelish didn't raise his hand against her. But, she recognized the look in his eyes and the way he shifted his shoulders. It had been his first impulse and he had nearly given in to it.
"Are you so sure of yourself, that you feel no fear of me?", he said in his silken rasp.
"Did I ever tell you about when Joffrey showed me my father's head mounted on a wall?"
The change of subject startled him almost as much as the cold steel in her eyes. "No," he replied.
"I told him that I wished that his head was mounted on the wall and he had one of his guards hit me." Sansa's lips curled upward in a small sneer as she remembered. "Too much of a coward to actually strike a girl himself."
"We were high up on the battlements and, for a wild mad moment, I thought that I would push him over. None of the other guards were close enough to stop me."
Fascinated despite himself, Littlefinger asked, "Why didn't you?"
"Robb was still alive. Mother, Bran, Rickon, they were still alive. I still wanted to live." Grief showed in Sansa's eyes, shading the steel with frost. "I still had hope, then."
"Don't you still wish to live now?"
People always talked about Arya having the Wolf's Blood. But, it existed in Sansa too. It just needed time and trouble to force it to the surface.
As she stood straight and tall and faced him without flinching, Petyr could see the wolf in her eyes. And, it made him want her more.
"Yes, I want to live," she said. "But, it's gotten easier to think about dying."
"Lord Royce, Lady Waynwood, Ser Corbray, they all know who I am. If you hurt me, one word will push you over the side and to your death."
Littlefinger thought about the high peaks of the Vale and reflected that her choice of words could be quite literal. "And, like before, you may die in the process as well. For, I can assure you, I won't die alone."
"I know. That's why I haven't yet." Sansa decided to add a little charm, a bit of gold to balance out the steel. "That and the fact that I haven't decided if I want you or not."
He knew it was a ploy, but Baelish's pulse quickened anyway. "I can be quite good to you. Certainly better than Joffrey and the rest of the Lannisters."
She couldn't help but point out, "Tyrion was kind to me."
In response, she got Littlefinger's smirking at her remaining gullibility. "That was just a ploy, my sweet."
"Why? For what reason?"
"I don't know." He shrugged and continued, "The dwarf can be exceedingly subtle at times. If he hadn't of had Tywin's boot on his neck, he would have been a master of the game."
"Oh, kindness may have been one of his original motives. But, kindness is either fleeting or foolish. And, Lord Tyrion is no fool. To avoid taking an entire kingdom and a beautiful wife? To defy the King and his father for so long?" Littlefinger shook his head in finality. "There must have been some other reason, I'm certain."
For once, Baelish was telling the truth. Or, at least, the truth as he saw it.
Up until now, Sansa had been considering indulging certain liberties with Littlefinger. Like most youths, she was curious about sex and Petyr was handsome enough in his own way.
But, now, she saw that everything to him was something to bought, sold or hoarded against a future profit. Even kindness. If he could get a high enough offer for her, Littlefinger would probably sell her in a heartbeat. Probably while calling her "My Sweet" in that same charming tone of voice.
Baelish, she vowed to herself, would never have her.
Skillfully, she drew the topic towards the upcoming tournament and Sweet Robin's latest mistakes. Littlefinger was glad to openly be able to vent insults about the stupid brat for once. So, for another day at least, any problems were avoided.
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Some weeks later, at the tournament in Gulltown, Brienne had drawn some derision for entering. Then, she had aquitted herself quite well in the elimination rounds and the derision died out.
Rather, to be more accurate, it shifted to Podrick. As he clumsily went about his duties and failed at most of them, the insults grew thicker. Finally, while watching him trying to clean Brienne's armor, an older knight from the Reach pointedly asked him if he'd ever been a squire before.
"I served Lord Tyrion Lannister," Pod said, with pride.
That earned some surprise and generated a lively conversation. A minority of the knights saw Tyrion's trick as cheating. The overwhelming majority held the view that, if they'd been facing the Mountain, they'd cheat in a heartbeat. And be damn glad if it worked.
A scruffy knight from Essos listened with interest to the tale and gave Pod a searching look. "When the Little Lion was put on trial, you abandoned hi-"
"I didn't!", Pod interrupted furiously, glaring at the man. "He sent me away so that I wouldn't get killed by his enemies."
Nobody mentioned any names, but there were looks of understanding. The vindinctiveness of the Queen was legendary.
The knight from Essos, Elias by name, nodded to himself, came over and started to show Podrick how to do the job properly. In between explanations, he spoke of how he'd fought at the matches in the Giant's Theater.
"Fought four times, earned enough to buy a new horse. Old one got Swamp Fever." Elias pulled aside his collar to show a scar in the meaty part of his shoulder. "Took a stab in the third match. Too deep to burn out and it started to get infected."
Lord Tyrion and the Drowned God's Wine saved his life.
"When we're done with this armor, Young Pod," Elias said. "I'll stand you and the lady to a drink in the Little Lion's honor."
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After they had a cup of wine or two in a local tavern, Elias decided to stay and have a bite to eat.
As Brienne and Pod were leaving, they caught sight of Sweet Robin's arrival. Although the tournament had been going on for a few days, the competitions had served to weed out the weak and the foolish. Now, that the guest of honor had arrived, the festivities and real fighting could begin.
The boy had turned out to be a unexpectedly decent rider and had been well trained by Littlefinger in keeping quiet when out in public. Days outside had put color into his face and he looked surprisingly princely as he rode into town.
Knights, nobles and household retainers formed the rest of the procession. Baelish trailed Sweet Robin at a carefully calculated distance. Petyr's niece, Alayne, rode at his side.
"That's San-". Pod's exclamation was cut short by Brienne wacking him on the shoulder.
"Shut Up!", she hissed as she dragged the hapless squire away through the crowd. When they were at a safe distance, she continued in a low growl. "The last thing that we need right now is for us to give ourselves away."
Speaking equally low, Pod asked, "What do we do next?"
"A note will be passed to Lady Sansa, asking her to meet us at a discreet location." Brienne gave Pod an emphatic look and said, "We can't leave anything to chance. So, I will handle leaving the note myself."
And, they were behind bars before nightfall.
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What truly astounded Brienne was that she hadn't even begun writing the note yet. On their way back to the camp, a young messenger had told them that they had to report to the Lord in charge of running the tournament. There was some question about the next round of fighting that they had to clarify.
This wasn't surprising. Because she was a woman, issues about competing were always cropping up.
The pair were led to a building (A different one than before. The messenger helpfully explained that the arrival of so many people had really thrown the housing situation off) and shown to a room.
Where there were a half a dozen men waiting with crossbows.
Disarmed and led to the town's jail, Brienne loudly demanded to know what the Seven Hells was going on. When no answer was forthcoming, she lapsed into a sullen silence.
About an hour after the cell door clanged shut, that silence was broken by Podrick's shocked murmur, "Lord Baelish!"
Looking up, she saw Littlefinger's smirking face at the bars of the door. The triumphant expression in his eyes was enough to kill any question of what was going on. Instead, Brienne asked, "How did you know so quickly?"
"Most of what occurs is quite simple to explain. A man needs gold to chase after a woman. Another man gets murdered in exchange for gold. All very straightforward and not worth the time to investigate." Baelish went over to the weapons cabinet, unlocked it and ran a carressing hand down Brienne's sword. "But, the unusual? I pay my informers very well to look for the unusual and to find the root of it. One of only two Valyrian Steel swords gets given to a lady knight by Ser Jaime Lannister. That's unusual."
"And, one of Queen Cersei's flaws is that she considers servants to be no more than furniture. A shouted argument with Ser Jaime and the tale of an oathbound quest comes to my ears."
"I see the names of those who survived the first rounds of the melee fighting, your name is there and here we are." Petyr grinned at his unwilling guests. "Like a conjurer at a fair, it all become crystal clear when it's explained."
Brienne nodded at that. "Now what?", she asked.
"The Queen can be cruel to those she hates and generous to those who please her. She'll pay me a good price for you, Podrick Payne. And, she'll be very pleased when Lord Tyrion receives your head."
Podrick paled and said nothing. Which didn't matter, since Brienne cursed Littlefinger enough for the two of them.
Ignoring the stream of acid flowing his way, Baelish said to Brienne, "You, my dear, will make a fine addition to one of my brothels."
That shocked her into silence. Out of all the fates planned for her, getting sent to a whorehouse was one that she never pictured. "Wh-what?", she finally stammered.
"Many men have unusual tastes. Some can only be aroused when the woman fights back and has to be subdued first. The greater the fight, the sweeter the fucking is afterwards."
"I'll kill any man who tries to rape me!", Brienne said in a red rage.
Baelish shrugged. "I hope you do. Killing a few would actually raise the price I could charge for you." He ran an appraising eye over her. "Still, I can't have you killing all of my customers. A touch of the milk of the poppy would take just enough of the fight out of you. We'll have to work on it."
The storm of insults that followed made the previous one seem like a lullaby. Completely unconcerned, Littlefinger turned, relocked the weapons cabinet and strolled out.
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The guards, four of them, came back in afterwards. There were a few taunts and jeers from them, but with little force behind it. Everybody knew that Baelish had plans for these two and no real harm was to come to them.
Towards nightfall, a fifth guard arrived. The man who followed was not a guardsman and was dragging an unconscious person.
The Guard Captain had the universal reaction that all hired peacekeepers have in response to a problem. "What's all this and what's it doing here!?"
"Some fellow had hit this man on the head and was robbing him. I happened by and scared him off." It was the non-guard who spoke. He was a large fellow, tough looking despite the years on his face and the gray in his hair. He nodded towards the stricken man and said, "He's got the Frey sigil and the Frey's are richer than shit. I figure that, once he wakes up, I can get a reward for saving his life."
The Guard Captain looked at the guardsman who'd arrived with them, wordlessly asking for his portion of the story.
Blinking, wishing he were elsewhere, the guardsman started, "Well, I-".
"Wait a moment."
Irritated, the Guard Captain looked at the older fellow, who was bent over the Frey. "What is it now?"
"He's got a money belt on, looks like the attacker missed it." The older man gestured at one of the interested guardsmen. "Here, stand him up. Let's get the belt off and see what he's got left."
Feeling his authority eroding, the Guard Captain decided to reassert the fact that he was in charge. "You stand back!", he barked. "We will search him."
Yielding easily, the older man stepped back and stood behind the other men as they undid the victim's belt.
Interested in the events that were unfolding, Brienne and Pod stood at the cell door and had ringside seats for what happened next.
Behind the guards and leaning over their shoulders, it took less than a second for the older man to slip out his dagger and stab two of the others in the throat. A third was barely turning his head in alarm when he too took a blade in the carotid artery. The fourth was the one unbuckling the Frey's belt and all his attention was on his task. He died under the knife without even knowing what was going on.
The Guard Captain spat a few choice words and drew his sword. That gave his adversary a few moments to grab a nearby stool. Then, he dodged the Captain's sword thrust almost by reflex and crushed his skull with the heavy wood.
Quickly, the man began searching the bodies. While, he was doing this, Brienne called out, "Please, free us!"
The man didn't even pause in his task or look up. "Why should I do that?"
Brienne noted that, underneath his loose coat, the man wore a fishscale mail shirt, in the style of the Riverlands. "Out of loyalty to the Tullys. I swore an oath to Catelyn Stark, who was born a Tully."
Now he did look up and fixed Brienne with a piercing glance. "Explain."
She continued as he finished searching the bodies and the room. He broke into the weapons as she was finishing and the sight of her Valyrian sword seemed to convince him that her tale was true. Wordlessly, he unlocked the door and they left.
Exiting was a tense affair. Any moment, they expected another guardsman to show and raise an alarm.
But, all the other guards were out because of the tournament. If not actually working, then at least joining in the drinking and festivities.
They joined him on a small sailboat with barely enough room for the three of them. Once they were safely away and at sea, the man turned to the other two and said, "I am Brynden Tully."
Brienne nodded in surprise and understanding. "The Blackfish."
"Aye." Ser Brynden adjusted the sail a bit and started in on his own tale. He had friends in the Vale and had been hoping to speak to Lord Royce about support to retake the Riverlands.
"Unfortunately, a Frey saw and recognized me. I bashed his skull in and that fool guardsman came by. I managed to calm any suspicion by inventing a tale of a footpad and asking for a reward." The Blackfish chuckled. "After all, who would attack a man and claim a reward for it?"
"But, the guard insisted that we went back to the jail. You saw the rest." Tully grimaced and continued, "This day has been one long gigantic cock-up."
"Oh, I don't know." Brienne enjoyed the sea breeze on her face as it ruffled her short hair. "We're free and that damn well beats the alternative."
Now, the question was: where do they go next? Both the Riverlands and the Vale would be too dangerous and they could expect little support in the other Kingdoms.
"Braavos."
Both Brienne and the Blackfish turned to look at Pod, who had blurted the word out.
"We should go to Braavos. Lord Tyrion is there and he has money. He can give us support."
Tales of the Little Lion's successes were starting to filter back to the Seven Kingdoms. He may not have enough for an army, but Tyrion certainly had more than the rest of them did at the moment.
The Blackfish remained skeptical and questioned any motive for helping their cause. Podrick's response was that, by helping them, Lord Tyrion would be disrupting his father's plans.
"He would spend a fortune just to infuriate his father?" Ser Brynden gave Pod an incredulous look. "Do Tywin and Tyrion really hate each other that much?"
Podrick returned the look with a matter-of-fact nod.
Even during her brief stay in King's Landing, Brienne had seen how Tywin had regarded Tyrion and she seconded the nod.
And, the Blackfish thought about all of the tales that he'd heard over the years. He had to admit that, yes, Tyrion probably did hate Tywin that much.
"Well, then, off to Braavos!"
