"Lady Queen," the whisper came urgently- the heavy lilt of a lowborn raised in poverty. "Lady Queen!" Sansa slowly opened heavy eyelids, and blinked hard against glaring sun. Where was she? She put her hands to her eyes as the shape of a woman came into focus above her. Her head was pounding and she squinted to see the face in the silhouette. "Miss, yeh must git up!" The girl struggled, her vision swimming and an ache fully thrumming in her forehead.
"Who… who are you?"
"Never yeh mind tha', I'm jes' a messenger, M'lady. Yeh must git up offa tha' floor!" She pulled herself up into a sitting position, rather lost. As she took in the world around her, she realized that she sat in the outer hall of the castle- outside of Joffrey's chambers. It must have been mid afternoon- a hazy sunlight came down through streaks of white cloud, illuminating everything in the silvery light she'd grown to know in this coastal summer.
"How did I get here?"
"Dunno know, Miss. Jes' found yeh, lyin' 'ere, sorry as can be, an' no one around… Yeh coulda been trampled! Er worse!" Sansa attempted to get to her feet, but found her legs rather weak beneath her. The woman, of middle age and dressed in dull beige cotton, reached out a hand to help her up. The queen took the assistance gratefully.
"I… I don't remember anything. I know that I went to see the King last night. And we shared a goblet of wine, and then… I remember being quite tired, but I don't remember leaving, or lying down." She squinted hard, fingers massaging her temples.
"Headache, Miss?"
"Yes, pounding." The woman shook her head, tutting.
"'at's it, arright. Sounds like yeh got slipped a li'l sumpin'. 'Appened ta me once, never did find wha' bloke it were. Yer lucky though, Miss. Looks like 'oever it were didn't do nothin' too ugly to yeh. At least 'ad the decency ta gussy yeh up after." Sansa looked down, and indeed- it did appear that someone had done up her dress from the outside. Someone without much care or practice: the laces were pulled too tight here and too loose there; the clasps were mismatched and the shift did not sit properly on her. She tugged the dress better in to place.
"Are you saying… someone poisoned me?"
"In a manner a' speakin', yeah. Wouldn't call it tha' so often, though… it's the kinda poison a man uses when 'e don't wanna hurt a girl, necessary…. but 'e ain't lookin' fer her ta remember wha' 'e done to 'er, neither. Sorry teh say, Miss, bu' I'd be willin' teh wager yeh been 'ad by a bloke yeh ain't meant teh be 'ad by.
"...Rape?" The woman gave a gruff laugh,
"Righ', when yeh got money, 'at's wha' they call it. Rape." Sansa was a bit taken aback.
"And if you don't have money?" The woman shrugged.
"Bein' in the wrong place a' the wrong time. An' bein' female."
"But that's awful!"
"No, 'at's life. Now come along Miss, yer an impor'an' girl an' 'oever did this to yeh ain't gonna be wantin' teh hear yeh figure it ou'." Sansa's face darkened.
"I think I know quite well who did this. And I doubt he'd care who knew."
"Either way, I got orders teh get yeh down teh the courtyard. Yer friend is wai'in' fer yeh."
"My friend?" The woman offered no further explanation, turning and leading the way down the hall.
"Come on, Miss." Sansa followed quietly, still blinking the sleep and substance from her eyes. Each step was heavy, but now that she was upright, the headache wasn't quite so bad. Though their travels were not far, it took longer than the Queen would have liked in this condition. But she was hardly in a position to complain; this woman had saved her from embarrassment, injury, or possibly worse. As they walked, she became aware of a pain around her wrists. She pulled up her sleeves, and found dark strips of bruises there, wrapping the circumference of them. These were not the same bruises she'd got two nights before, when her husband had hung her by her hands in his chamber. These were newer, fresher, overlaying the ones left previously. She could not remember obtaining them.
Finally, after a few twisting, turning hallways, they were in the main courtyard. There, seated on one of the stone benches under a flowering fruit tree, was an impeccably poised man in a rich, tailored coal grey robe with a silver mockingbird at his throat. He rose as she approached.
"Petyr!" She could not contain her smile, and her heart warmed when he returned it. Like a young girl, her feet picked up a pace that neared a run- except that she was a lady, and ladies never ran- until she reached him.
"Your Grace." She would nearly have forgot herself and thrown her arms around him in a hug, but he reached out for her hand and she stopped just short as he kissed the back of it. "I was beginning to worry- it took Moeira longer than I'd expected to find you."
"Well, she found me on-" Sansa turned back toward her consort, intending to congratulate her on the thorough search she must have conducted to find her queen in such an unusual place, but she'd vanished. "Who was that woman?"
"Moeira is just a messenger of mine," Petyr waved it off. "There are many like her on the grounds."
"She found me in quite an odd place."
"Odd?" Sansa lowered her voice,
"Outside. By Joffrey's chambers. On the ground."
"On the ground? What were you doing there?"
"That's just it: I don't remember. I woke up like that, and my dress all undone… I think…." She leant in now, whispering, "I think he tainted my wine." Baelish's brow shot up.
"My sweet, that is a heavy accusation, are you-"
"My head is pounding. I have no idea how I got there. The last thing I remember is drinking a goblet of wine- a single cup- and being very drowsy. And, when I woke up, I'd been dressed by someone else."
"That… does sound like it. You are sure you had only one cup of wine?"
"Absolutely sure, yes. And look-" she pulled her sleeves up as far as she could, til they were stopped by this thickness of her forearms. "These are new. They weren't there yesterday. I don't remember how they got there at all." The Lord took her hands gently, examining the bruises.
"You poor girl… last night, before this, did you lie with him?"
"I don't remember, but if we did… I don't feel any different, you know, down there, so-"
"Walk with me, Sansa." He held out his arm for her to take, and she did. "Pay attention to the path we take." He led her along a row of rose bushes, leading toward a stone wall the height of a man. His pace was so brisk as they neared the wall, she feared for a moment that they would run right into it. But then he took a sudden turn to the left, pulling her with him, through a crack in the hedge her eye would never have picked up. The space they occupied was close now, not meant for the pleasant wanders the gardens afforded most lords and ladies. The path was thin, made for only one set of feet to pass at a time, and the trees and bushes grew up intimately alongside it, at times connecting overhead in a crowded canopy of leaves and branches.
He moved so quickly, she struggled to keep up. Roots tangled up from beneath her and she nearly tripped several times; branches hung low from above or reached out to snag her from odd angles and attempted the same. She cursed, for the first time, that she was not more like her sister: boyish, strong, made for running and dodging and ducking. They came to a four-pronged fork in the path and the long grey coat she followed took the far left one. Another further on, and he took the far right. Another still, and he took the center-left. They lept across a small dry creek, landing on smooth boulders, Finally, he slowed and stopped, Sansa huffing and puffing and grateful not to be running any longer. He turned to her; his cheeks were flushed, but he barely looked winded. Then reached out one hand and pushed back a veil of moss she'd assumed was a dead-end. He held it up and indicated that she step through. She did, and found herself transported.
Beyond was a place unlike any she'd ever seen. Through a heavy overhang of vibrant green, which cast cool shadows over the entire clearing, rods of misty sunlight shot down to packed earth underfoot. Crumbling pillars of smooth marble were woven with ivy and moss, and flecked with gold that seemed to reflect fire, illuminated by the silvery white sky. Great white elm trunks surrounded them, roots pushing up through cracked pieces of foundation laid to a structure no longer standing. Statues and half-statues of strange creatures, mythical beasts and important figures from a history she'd never heard were covered in reeds and flowers, and in the center of it all was a fountain- or what had once been a fountain, now just a pool of green-blue in a grey marble basin, upon which floated great white lilies and long trains of reeds.
"What… what is this place?" She breathed.
"The Red Keep was not always the castle of this land. It was a great fortress, built by the Targaryens in wartime, to withstand a siege- and that's just what it's done. But long ago, before Aegon and his dragons took Westeros, before the Seven Kingdoms were united into one, this was the palace of the Crownlands. It was built by the arcane masons, all of marble and laced with true gold. These-" he indicated the statues and busts of grotesque and resplendid wonder- "are gods and monsters of the ancient men, heroes from wars long forgotten. Though most of the old walls have been destroyed by time and enemies' swords, there are a few places in King's Landing where they still stand, if you know where to look. But almost no one does."
Sansa moved as if in a dream toward one of the pillars, mouth agape. It was utterly beautiful, and around the base were etched figures of an ancient language she'd never seen anything like.
"Can you read this?" She put her face close to it. Just then, a wisp of cloud moved and a shock of sunlight hit the pillar, making the gold ribbons therein scream light back at her. She jolted back as Lord Baelish laughed softly.
"No. I doubt anyone alive today can. But they say…" He drew up behind her closely, putting one arm around her waist and appearing in her field of vision just over her left shoulder, "that the gold in these pillars is imbued with an ancient magic, so strong and so deep that even our Gods are no match for it. That's why, even after all this time, these ruins have never been sacked or pillaged." She looked at him over her shoulder,
"Because of the magic?" He shook his head.
"Because of the superstition. If you pay attention, my dear, you will find there is nothing so strong in the world as men's beliefs." She sat with that thought for a moment, then turned to face him.
"So, why did you bring me here?"
He regarded her for a long moment, then his hands left her waist and he took a perch on one of the low smooth stone walls- some ancient lord's window.
"What you suspect of Joffrey is a dark thing. If it is true… a man who would seek out poisons and drops to have his way with a woman is the most dangerous kind, worse even than one who would brutalize her outright. In the houses I own, such men are exposed and punished most severely, and for good reason. I do not know which maester helped him to come by that tincture, but if I find out…." He trailed off, eyes blinking hard in quiet anger. When he opened them again, they regarded her directly.
"Sansa, you have come to be very dear to me, personally. You must know that. Of course I admire you and appreciate your company, but also… I want more than anything to keep you safe. Do you feel safe with me?" Touched by his admission of sentimentality, she approached and sat beside him.
"I do," she confessed, "In fact… the only time I feel safe anymore is when I'm with you." He gave a small smile.
"Good. You know that you will always have me to return to, when you are free of him for the night. But, knowing now what depths his depravity runs to, I fear that will not be enough. So, if anything happens, if you feel that he will hurt you worse than you can bear, or you believe he means to give you more drops, you flee and come here. Do you understand?" She nodded. "You saw how confusing the path here is, how easy it would be to lose a pursuer through all the twists and turns and forks. Just on the other side of that wall of trees-" he indicated a space to the far end of the clearing- "Is a wall to the city. Beyond is a nameless street, and beyond that, a back entrance to my business office. I sleep there often, and I will leave my window open so that if you scream, I will hear you. There is little I could do to protect you within the castle walls, where the Kingsguard waits by, but here, in the middle of no where… Joffrey is just a man. And I can stop him as I would any other man who would rape a girl."
"My lord… thank you." Her eyes were wide with fear at the thought of what Joffrey was capable of that he had not already done to her, and with a rush of emotion for this man who would risk so much to help her.
"This is a safe place, Sansa," he said, surveying the glimmering pool of the old fountain. "This can be our place."
She liked that. She'd never had a place of her own, since she'd arrived in King's Landing. Even her own quarters were run by someone else, ever under the watchful eyes of handmaids and servants except for a few late hours, when Lord Baelish had typically called on her.
"Our place," she repeated. He smiled, crooking his head to see her face.
"Pity it's come to this. You came to the Crownlands looking for gallantry and romance, and fairy tales… and you found Joffrey. It would have been so much better if it were just young Tommen."
"Tommen?" She was truly surprised. "He's only a child!" Lord Baelish shrugged.
"A child, yes, but a sweet child. A good child. They say he believes in a world with no judgement, no punishment… that he sees no cost to kindness. He would have been a better match for you, when he came of age."
"It wasn't Tommen wanted to marry me," she said sourly. "It was Joffrey."
"A Baratheon wanted to wed a Stark, that's all. It would not matter whom or which. If it was not one, it would be the other. The family would have you married in one way or another." She paused, thinking.
"I suppose I could have got used to a child, sooner than a monster. It would be rather like living with a little brother." She was wistful. He smiled.
"Ah, if only, if only. You might form a friendship with the young lad," he quipped. "Just in case." He winked. Sansa laughed.
The sun was beginning to go down below the haze of the coastline, and a chill wind picked up. Garbed only in summer silks, the girl shivered. Petyr put his arm up, offering to warm her with it. She accepted, huddling against his side as he draped a hand over her far shoulder. His spice musk mingled with something delightful and invigorating in the air, and her senses alighted. She sniffed, detecting.
"I think… it's going to rain soon." He nodded.
"Late summer storm coming, to be sure. But they travel slowly here, and you'll smell them long before you see them. I wouldn't expect it for another day or two." They gazed at the grey swirls in the sky above for a time, and when Petyr looked back toward her face, he saw that she was far, far away. Her eyes reflected endless stretches of purple and yellow fire sunset. When she spoke again, her voice carried a distant sadness.
"What if I never carry the King's child? They won't send me home, will they?"
"I wish I could tell you they would. But my sweet, it pains me to say… the word is that the Queen mother has already ordered you stand trial for witchcraft and treason if you do not conceive within a month. You must act now." She looked at him, fear flooding her.
"But… how? I've tried everything, he'll never listen to me, he'll never respect me, it's even worse now than it was before… I don't know what to do any more, I may as well give up and accept-"
"Sansa," he said softly, leaning his head over to nestle hers in the crook of his neck, "it is to my sorrow that I misjudged your husband's cruelty and the impregnability of his heart. Tomorrow, we will finish your lessons- no more games, no more strategies, nothing but the bare mechanics necessary to put his child in your belly and keep you safe." She made no sound, but he felt her tremble against him, and knew that she was weeping softly. Her voice was watery.
"I don't even think I could love his chi-"
"Shhh," he cooed, "we all do what we must. And you must be with child in a month."
The smell of rain, and the smell of him, gave her strength. If she could just stay here forever, she thought, and live in this old ruin of the ancient castle with its ancient gods, far away from all the twisted lies and webs and plots of the Red Keep, she could be happy.