They Eyrie was nothing like anywhere Sansa had seen before. King's Landing was gaudy, Winterfell was rustic, but the Eyrie had a look to it that the redhead didn't know how to place. It was almost like entering a temple of sorts, a temple to the moon (seeing as much of the décor was centered on just that). The colors were all light and earthy; pale blues, greens and beiges.
The great hall was circular, with a round panel in the middle. It bore a light blue moon symbol—she couldn't help but imagine that this was the fabled moon-door that was spoken of so many times before.
As she and Lord Baelish made their entrance, a mother and her son appeared. Lysa Arryn was skinny as a stick, her face just as thin as her body. Catelyn had aged far better than her younger sister. At thirty-seven, the woman appeared to be shrunken in her own skin.
"Uncle Petyr!" Robin Arryn exclaimed, going to hug the weasel of a man.
"Oh, it is truly wonderful to see you again, my darling" Lysa spoke, giving the man a kiss on the cheek.
Sansa was surprised to see him be welcomed so warmly by this widow—clearly, Jon Arryn did not have a faithful wife when he was alive. Her young son did have a slight resemblance to Lord Baelish.
"And you've brought my darling little niece along…oh my little bird, look at you. So much like your mother…" There was a shadow of resentment in Lysa's voice, almost impossible to detect—but there for certain.
"Oh, thank you Lady Arryn—" Sansa started, but she was interrupted.
"Please, call me Aunt Lysa" The older woman spoke. "No need to be formal with me"
Sansa was then pulled into a hug, and at first, she hugged back. The embrace overstayed its welcome within seconds, and soon Sansa was standing there while Lysa just held her.
Sansa eventually wriggled out of her arms—a harder task than it sounded.
"Now, its been so long since I've seen Petyr—we must speak alone. Robin, show Sansa to her bedroom" Lysa instructed, pointing to the hallways. Robin grabbed Sansa's hand excitedly.
Sansa was only minutes out of the Great Hall when Robin got distracted, wondering off. Not a shocker—he seemed quite the bird-brain. She couldn't help but feel curious about her aunt and Lord Baelish's relationship. Surely, if Robin felt close enough to Lord Baelish to call him uncle, there was something going on here. She hid behind a column stealthily and listened in.
"How I have missed you, love" Lysa spoke, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. Sansa scrunched her nose in disgust at this—and though it was hard to tell for the redhead (given she had to peek from behind a column) he seemed pretty disgusted himself.
Petyr hid his disgust, managing to pull away before she could take note of it.
"It has been a while, hasn't it? When did I last see you?" He asked, stroking her hair to feign affection. It felt thinner, stringier than Catelyn and Sansa's, as if she'd been under constant stress since she left the womb.
Her eyes widened in excitement.
"Oh, I remember so well. You helped me slip poison into Jon's wine…" She spoke. "So that we could truly be together, just me and you…"
Sansa almost gasped in shock, but she kept quiet. She shouldn't be hearing this, she would be killed if she was caught. She stayed back, not wanting her footsteps to be heard at an inconvenient time.
"And our baby boy…" Lysa continued. "Little Robin reminds me of his father so much…
Lord Baelish felt bile rising in his stomach. He hated to accept that Robin was actually his child, entirely because he hated the fact he had to have sex with Lysa in order for this child to even exist.
The only reason he'd done so that maybe he could marry her, see Catelyn more and maybe have a bit more power under his belt. However, neither thing came to be. Catelyn married into the North, and Lysa married into the Vale. He'd only gain power after Jon Arryn died.
"He does, doesn't he? But he has your charm" He responded. Robin had no charm to speak of, but then again, neither did his mother.
"Now, tonight we should marry. No big celebration, just me and you, like we always wanted" She spoke, stroking his cheek. "Say you will, my love…please"
Petyr thought for a moment. He despised this unstable and feeble woman, but still. She was Lady Paramount of the Vale, and he would become Lord Paramount if he married her.
Power was more important. He'd get rid of Lysa, and then he could have Sansa as his bride. If she wasn't useful in politics, anyway. She is an important piece to have on hand.
"I see nothing stopping us" He spoke in his silvery voice, kissing her forehead.
Sansa acted as if she had just walked in, as if she hadn't heard the conversation at all.
"Oh, Aunt Lysa, Lord Baelish…I didn't know you…you had something…" She spoke, her voice surprised and a little awkward.
"I have loved Petyr since I was a girl, Sansa. He's a wonderful man…" Lysa responded. "Ignore any loud sounds you may hear, for when my husband makes love to me I will scream like I'm a virgin again!"
Sansa couldn't mask how uncomfortable her saying that made her feel. She exchanged a quick glance with Littlefinger, who seemed to share her secondhand embarrassment.
A few minutes of silence passed, before finally someone broke it.
"I shall call for a septon—the wedding shall happen tonight" Petyr said, hoping to distract Sansa from the thought of Lysa in anywhere near a sexual situation.
"I congratulate you both," Sansa said, starting upstairs. "I—I'll be taking my leave now…"
Sansa headed up to her chambers as fast as possible. Robin may not have shown her to them, but she knew their location thanks to a servant leading her. She got immediate privacy and began to write in her diary. She couldn't deliver this information to Robb just yet—it was just too risky. Plus, with the Vale as a possible ally, she couldn't risk it getting out.
Later that night, Sansa laid in bed, Lady curled up at her feet. She was unable to sleep—her aunt made true on her promise. She was already nauseated from the mere thought of having to envision the consummation of their marriage, did she really needed the sounds to go along with it? They sounded like the nightmarish cross between childbirth and a donkey's bray.
She tried to cover her ears with her pillow, but it seemed ineffective. Thus, she sat up and looked out the window, deciding that getting lost in space would make her block it out.
The sounds seemed to fade as she began to wonder what was happening at home. What was Robb doing? Was he safe? She had heard he'd secured an alliance with house Frey. That was good, wasn't it? Poor Sansa had no idea. All she knew was that she was dreadfully homesick. She belonged in the North, with her family.
The stars in the sky shone brightly that night, and for the first time in years, she noticed the evening star.
"I'm about to seem so, so foolish" She spoke to herself, sighing. "I wish…I wish I could return to the North…"
… careful what you wish for
