After breakfast had ended and everyone had gone their separate ways Sansa had wandered off in search of the gallery Margaery had mentioned and quickly found it just a little back down the grand hallway from the dining room. As soon as she'd entered she'd understood what her friend had been saying, the place really was formidable and quite frankly awe-inspiring.
The room was long with almost unending ceilings but still a bronze statue of a bird she assumed to be a mockingbird dominated the centre of the gallery. There were glass doors to her left which seemed to lead out to the courtyard she'd seen from her balcony which let in golden rays of sunlight, but everything else had been covered over by both large and small paintings. Sofas called the centre of the room home and only paused to accommodate the bronze mockingbird and several different sculptures had been dotted about on pedestals and tables. It seemed like a museum had been hidden away inside Harrenhal.
Silently Sansa took all the paintings in, noted the artists' skill and imagination; some of the works were almost disturbingly life-like. Everything had an ethereal beauty the likes of which Winterfell Hall couldn't have possibly compared to; not that her home looked neglected in the least. Stunning but not gaudy.
It didn't take her more than a few seconds of flicking her bold blue eyes around to firmly decide that she liked it in the gallery, at Mockingbird Island. Sansa took a peaceful breath as the large fireplace gave off an orangey warmth, odd that all the fireplaces seemed to be permanently lit and tended to though Sansa had hardly seen any servants besides Olyvar, Armeca and the man who'd met her at the doors.
The fireplace itself held her attention, it seemed off to her. Slowly she approached the carved marble for a better look, perhaps she'd thought too much in to it and it was just a fireplace. What else would it be?, her mind questioned. Blue eyes caught sight of something else then, a roughly hand sized wolf in a seated position with a mockingbird perched on one shoulder. Somehow it called to her, Sansa understood why she'd seen so many mockingbirds around what with the island's name and Lord Baelish's house sigil but the wolf seemed out of place; didn't stop her liking the little sculpture. However, when the redhead reached for the wolf and bird the brass animals tipped backwards to reveal a small combination lock built in to the fireplace itself. Sansa cocked a questioning eyebrow, Winterfell Hall certainly didn't have any of those. The numbers were tiny and though she wanted to know the right set of digits to reveal whatever was being hidden away in the gallery, Sansa knew she had no chance of just stumbling across the correct four numbers for the dials. Had Lord Baelish got a secret room hidden behind the fireplace? Perhaps it was an entire network of tunnels built into the large rock of an island, it could have been anything and Sansa's curiosity had been peaked.
The sound of one of the large gallery doors opened then and Sansa instantly flipped the sculpture back up and backed away a from the fire a few steps only for Prince Oberyn to come into view with – surprisingly – two glasses of wine in his hands and a smile on his handsome face.
"Hello, Lady Sansa." He greeted in that accented voice of his though seemed shocked to find her there. "I did not think I'd find anyone in the gallery, most don't appreciate the art in here, wander off into the gardens usually."
If he didn't think I'd be in here why does he have two glasses of wine? Sansa brushed that question aside for the sake of propriety.
"Sorry, I shall leave if you wish, Prince Oberyn."
Before Sansa could even set a foot forwards Oberyn had shuffled the few steps to block her path, that smile still on his lips.
"Please, I insist you just call me Oberyn. Besides, if Petyr finds out I have thrown you out of here I'll be a dead man."
The Dornish man sat himself down on one of the large, ornate sofas which faced the fireplace with his back to the courtyard doors and set the wine glasses down so he could pat the spot beside him. Sansa obeyed the silent request, she truly did like Oberyn, he had nice eyes and seemed fun to be around. He watched her a moment before she finally broke the silence and spoke.
"Will our host be joining us at any point of the foreseeable future, Pri-Oberyn? Lady Margaery said he'd join us for breakfast."
Oberyn smirked. "Soon." There was that look which said he knew more than he revealed again. "Petyr is a very busy man to say the least, all of his fingers are in different pies. Sometimes I wonder if Petyr actually knows how many. Quite frankly I don't know how he does it all, personally I like to take a much more relaxed approach to life." When he noticed how straight Sansa sat and how uncertain she looked the man leant further back in his seat. "You have every right to be here, Sansa." Somehow she didn't even care that he'd dropped her title. "You may not have the experience of running things from the shadows but you'll learn quickly. The mockingbird has decided to take his wolf under his wing and will teach you everything he can about the game."
At the mention of wolves Sansa's brain flicked back to the sculpture atop the fire but she said nothing about it, didn't want to look as though she'd been snooping around Harrenhal.
"Pri-Oberyn," she corrected herself "why does Lord Baelish see so much in a girl he's never even met before? I know he knew my mother but I am not her."
The dark-haired man breathed out a laugh knowingly and Sansa wanted to ask, wanted to be curt and to the point despite what she'd been taught, but before she could even finish her thought he'd started to talk once more.
"My b-" He cut himself off and cleared his throat. "Petyr is very good at seeing the possibilities and potential in people, it's something Petyr truly excels at. He's always been good at figuring people out, their motives, what they need to move forwards, for example. Petyr Baelish can build a man up or rip them down depending on his mood, do not let his appearance fool you, sweet girl."
Oberyn looked Sansa up and down then, it appeared almost as if he were searching for something. Most women probably would have felt they were being ogled but somehow Sansa thought his eyes more curious than hungry, as if he wanted to make sure she was good enough; a silly thought.
"So Lord Baelish believes I have potential." That was encouraging at least. "I have no idea what I've done to earn such faith but I am grateful to have it."
The older man nodded. "Sansa, my dear girl, you are the daughter of Ned Stark and Catelyn Tully, of course you have potential. Although, please don't believe that the position your birth awarded you is all you have. Petyr always calls it a game and quite frankly he's correct, it is one. You can play this game of ours and you can do it well, Petyr just wants to teach you."
The redhead truly didn't know what to make of this unusual conversation, it really was unlike any other she'd ever had; even since arriving at Harrenhal. She still felt good about making the trip and now she actually knew why she'd been invited Sansa felt more comfortable; even if Oberyn clearly did know more than he told her.
When she realized she'd been sat too long and too quiet Sansa knew she needed to change the subject lest Prince Oberyn believe she'd zoned out and elected to ignore him.
"Lord Baelish has quite the extensive collection of art." Is this the best I can come up with? "Most of these pieces I've never seen before."
The prince nodded and let her change the subject while he reached for one of his wine glasses. "Petyr doesn't collect art like most rich people, all the pieces he has mean something. They all tell a story."
Blue eyes peered around at the stunning works around the gallery. "He must have been collecting a long time."
Suddenly Oberyn nearly choked on his wine. "You have no idea."
The conversation died down a bit after that and Sansa soon started to wonder what the Dornish prince had been hiding from her when a servant entered quietly, though dressed very similar to Baelish's valet, Olyvar, it clearly wasn't him.
"Lady Sansa," began the young man "Lady Margaery has requested your presence in the gardens."
Sansa excused herself as politely as she could and left Oberyn alone with his two glasses of wine. The dark-haired man stared at the door a moment after it had closed before he returned to just sipping at his wine as he reclined on the sofa and enjoyed the warming fire. Then, without warning, the fireplace turned a full ninety degrees to reveal a large opening from which stepped a green-eyed man with salt and pepper hair, he was dressed all in black save for his high-necked white shirt and a contrasting waistcoat of dark purple. His coat had been richly embroidered with a silver thread and a mockingbird pin was worn at his neck with his cravat. He looked like the night to Oberyn's day.
Suddenly it was clear why Oberyn had brought two wine glasses into the gallery even if Sansa wasn't there to witness it. After straightening the skirts of his waistcoat the man with a goatee sat down beside the Dornish prince. Oberyn handed him the other cut crystal glass of red wine then flashed the man a look.
"And why are you hiding from young Sansa, hmm?" Asked Oberyn. "It's very unlike you to hide from what you want, Petyr."
Baelish glanced over his shoulder at the glass doors which led to the courtyard and subsequent gardens.
"She isn't ready yet." He told the other man as Petyr matched the way Oberyn reclined. "She needs more time to acclimatize."
Oberyn chuckled at that. "If you allow her to acclimatize any longer we'll run out of wine in the cellar."
Petyr sipped from his glass. "We will if Tyrion Lannister stays much longer."
The Dornish man let out a little hum in agreement. "At least we savor the wine unlike that little lion, I still like him though. He may be small but Tyrion is far wiser than he is drunk."
"You forget we have no choice but to savor since we cannot become intoxicated."
That pulled another chuckle from the prince and he elbowed Petyr jovially. "Such a burden."
After another mouthful of wine Petyr tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling and sighed deeply; Oberyn had grown used to that, Petyr had done it all the time they'd known one another.
"She came to me in her slumber," Oberyn's head snapped to stare at Petyr, an eyebrow raised, "or at least she tried to."
"Then there's no wonder the poor thing is out of sorts." A pause, small and hardly there. "At least you're correct this time, it certainly is Sansa Stark. I can feel it coming off of her."
Petyr's green eyes fixed onto Oberyn's rich brown ones then, a firm glare. "You are not to tell her anything, that is my job."
The prince raised his hands in a non-threatening manner despite still holding his half-empty glass. It seemed in that moment the playfulness of his mood had gone and instead been replaced by a wave of seriousness.
"Petyr, I would never cross that line, never be so cruel. Especially after everything you did to help me find Elaria." A pause lingered between them as expressions softened and that playfulness which had seemed dead returned to life. "I am glad it is Sansa though because it proves the only family I like isn't entirely insane."
Petyr flashed a smile, a little smirk which was unique to only him. "All the best people are a little insane."
Oberyn hummed and finished his wine. "And the worst people deny they are." He upturned his glass as if to prove to himself there wasn't any wine left, then glanced to the man shrouded in black and purple. "Shall we get a bottle?"
"Let's."
With that the two men stood and approached the fire, Petyr quickly flipped the statue over and put in four little numbers. The fireplace moved the same ninety degrees it had before, fire still blazing, so the two men could step through to what was hidden behind and then it was as if they'd never been there to begin with. The fire re-took its place and the statue righted itself.
~X~
Not long after the redhead joined beautiful Lady Margaery and a few others in the gardens the sun had grown too much for her. Back home whenever the sun shined it wasn't overly strong nor as blinding as this far south, no matter the time of year The North was always cold. She'd enjoyed it but certainly wasn't used to it. Regrettably it had forced her to develop a headache and excuse herself from the frivolities of the group to her rooms.
Despite her desire for a while alone she'd hardly reached the top of the grand staircase when she found herself set upon by curiosity. Two doors some distance apart faced the grand stairs both with name plaques for Varys and Tyrion, she'd not taken notice of them before but she suddenly remembered that inside her peculiar dream the previous night they'd been there too. Quietly she followed them along the vast hallways but grew confused when she realized that the names were all in the same order they had bene in her dream, Sansa hadn't seen those plaques before and yet she knew the order. How? Perhaps it was just an unnerving case of déjà vu. Surely this couldn't be true but as she continued along a seemingly endless hallway which she'd never had cause to go down Sansa found it looked the same as the one in her dream and sure enough the name cards were the same. She ground to a halt when she reached the unmarked set of doors and took a deep breath which had her chest strain against her stay corset. It was exactly as in her dream, then she remembered the tucked away staircase and spun around so quickly her dress flared upwards on the breeze. The very same set of stairs hidden away. Sansa truly didn't have a choice now, she was a slave to her curiosity, she'd been dragged away terrifyingly from those stairs and just had to know what was behind that door at the top.
Sansa lifted her skirts as she made her way up, she'd definitely climbed those stairs before. Despite not having reached the top of the stairs she could already see the door in her mind's eye, had wandered to it in her sleep. Did I sleep walk? It seemed unlikely since she'd never done so before but that must have been the explanation surely.
She'd just reached the door when a voice made her jump. With a hand over her heart Sansa turned around and looked back down the steps to see a fellow redhead dressed in green skirts and a white caraco which had been embroidered with roses, informal but pretty. This woman was older and seemingly disinterested.
"I apologize, I got myself lost." Said Sansa with a big smile in a desperate attempt to escape Lord Baelish's wrath.
Clearly the older woman wasn't convinced but didn't confront Sansa regarding it. Instead this woman looked Sansa up and down then opened her brown leather book which Sansa had overlooked until that moment.
"This way." Said the other redhead curtly as she turned to go back down the stairs.
Knowing she was expected to follow Sansa did just that. After a nervous few seconds Lady Sansa got up the courage to speak.
"Forgive me, but might I ask who you are? I am Lady Sansa Stark."
"Yes, I know." Answered the woman as they walked back the way Sansa had come. "I am Ros, Lord Baelish's assistant."
Sansa smiled softly. "Ros? No house name?"
A spiteful pause dominated the air then, just for a split second before it was discarded again.
"I was disowned as a very young child and so have none."
Sansa knew she'd not get anything else out of Ros, frankly she was surprised she'd gotten as much as she had. Instead of trying to further the conversation – or lack of one – Sansa just thanked Ros when she was returned to her rooms. She stepped over the threshold into her blue rooms as Ros held the door open.
"Please don't go near that staircase again, Lady Stark, Lord Baelish doesn't like people being in his office without permission."
Next thing Sansa knew she was alone and the door was closed. After a calming breath she slipped down onto the settee with a very puzzled expression. So it's Lord Baelish's office, said her mind. Sansa didn't know what that meant in her all too real dream, she couldn't think on it much longer though. As her curiosity faded her headache returned and she headed into her bedchamber to lay down for a while with some peace and quiet. The pillows were so soft and the mattress inviting, wonderfully so to the point that Sansa was asleep before she even knew it.
~X~
Sansa's eyes fluttered before she finally snapped them open only to realize she was stood in a room which was not her own as she stared up at a gargantuan painting of the fall of Castamere. She didn't remember having seen this painting before, the colors were beautiful but dulled by the closed curtains to her left; something she momentarily regarded as strange since it was daytime.
A feeling washed over her then, a feeling which said someone was behind her but for some strange reason Sansa wasn't scared and didn't feel as though she needed to turn around. Sansa was … at ease. The floorboards creaked behind her as the man – because she knew it was a man – approached, anticipation shot through her slender frame but there wasn't a single ounce of concern or fear. Sansa didn't even jump when strong arms snaked around her waist, large and dominant but Sansa felt safe above all else; like this was meant to be. The redhead surprised herself with the hum of happiness that escaped her lips; had she found what she'd always been searching for?
The man pressed a kiss to Sansa's neck so she could feel his facial hair; no man had ever kissed her at all before especially not in such a way and it made her heart swell. Whoever this man was he smelt comfortingly of mint and touched her as if she were a queen.
"I'm going to wake up now, aren't I?" Asked the young girl as she let herself lean back against this unseen man's chest.
The man responded softly. "You are not asleep exactly, Sweetling, but yes."
Sansa sighed but insisted upon resting against him a little longer. He wasn't that much taller than her - or maybe they were the same height - but he was soothing and warm. She wanted to know this man looked like, why her dreams had made such a comforting person to hold her but when her head started to tilt backwards to steal a glance Sansa was unceremoniously ripped out of his grasp like one child snatching a toy from another.
The redhead sat bolt upright in her bed as she panted deeply and tried to figure out what had just happened to her. Sansa had always had strange dreams but this one had been beyond odd. The teenager could feel his arms still wrapped around her waist and his loving warmth, the brush of his lips against her skin.
Poor girl tried to rationalize it all by telling herself that it was all a result of the excitement of being at Harrenhal, of being on her adventure and an over-active imagination. However, deep down, Sansa knew it had been something else entirely; she'd wanted this man's touch just like she'd wanted to be near the masked man at the ball in King's Landing. No matter how unusual though, she hadn't been scared despite suspecting she should have been.
After a calming breath she rose from her bed and headed out onto her balcony for some fresh air. The sight of the sun just starting to dip caught her off guard, how long had she been asleep? It truly hadn't felt that long to her but sleep could be deceptive when it wanted to be. The other guests had probably started to wonder where she'd gotten to and soon she'd need to dress for dinner.
Sansa slipped back into her sitting room and glanced at the desk stationed between the two balcony doors, she really needed to pen a letter to her parents back at Winterfell. They knew she was gone and were surely furious with her. If she went any longer without any interaction they'd probably send Robb in search of her and that really wouldn't end well for anybody.
Begrudgingly she sat herself down and started to heat some wax over a candle before she set to writing a letter to her mother and father. It took her a moment of thinking but she soon dunked her quill into the ink well and dated her page before she wrote.
Dear Mother and Father,
I apologize for leaving unannounced and against your wishes but I felt you would never let me attend Lord Baelish's event no matter how much I begged. I did not mean to cause any worry or heartache. Please be consoled by the knowledge I am well and unharmed despite such a long journey alone.
Mockingbird Island is quite beautiful and there is a vast array of stunning art that has left me speechless. I am yet to actually meet Lord Baelish, however, I look forward to doing so. I have become acquainted with the other guests at Harrenhal, some of whom I have seen in passing previously while others are entirely new to me. I feel as though I have made friends here also. While I do not believe it appropriate for me to reveal the names of the lords and ladies present I will say that I have grown quite fond of one and we have become quick but firm friends. There is also a gentleman I have grown fond of as well, he is humerous and most kind.
As I say, I am well and will return to Winterfell at the end of the event. I will, of course, write again shortly and attempt to keep our correspondence regular. Again I ask you both to forgive me for my deception and take solace in the fact I am safe and amongst new friends. I truly never meant to hurt you, I merely felt as though this was something I had to do, not to disobey you but for myself.
Your loving daughter,
Sansa
After quickly re-reading her letter Sansa slipped it into an envelope and sealed it with the wax she'd melted and left her sigil within the red puddle.
For a time the redhead just sat there staring down at the small rectangle of white. Her mother and father really weren't going to be happy for a long time to come. Still, they had little choice but to accept it now. Sansa was at Mockingbird Island, half an ocean away from The North and her family. She'd proven she was no longer a child not just to her parents but to herself as well; it was something to be proud of. In all honesty they'd probably expected this sort of stunt from Arya but certainly not well-behaved Sansa; all of that was of little consequence now.
With a sigh the teenager stood with her letter and made her way out of the room then down the grand staircase all without spotting so much as a servant changing the candles at a sconce. In fact it wasn't until she'd reached the colossal doors of Harrenhal that she found someone, specifically Olyvar, halfway through said doors. He flashed her a bold, bright smile which Sansa was sure could make any woman swoon.
"May I be of assistance, Lady Sansa?"
"Oh, that is all right, Olyvar, thank you. I just wished to deposit a letter to my family in the mail box on the dock."
As if to prove her story she gestured loosely with the letter itself.
"I shall take it for you, my Lady. The mail box is locked and other than Lord Baelish, only I have the key."
"Perhaps I could walk with you? I have been in my rooms all afternoon and the idea of a walk really had sounded wonderful to me." She'd been asleep so long a walk would probably do her good.
Olyvar nodded and pushed the door open fully so she could exit. "Of course, my Lady, I would be honored at your company."
The air smelt saltier than it had when she'd arrived though Sansa had no idea as to why. Together they descended the large steps cut into the rock which the teen found rather impressive in the daylight. Seagulls still squawked off in the distance, probably on the other side of the island, while the sun hung on the horizon painting it in oranges, yellows and the occasional flare of unexpected red.
"Olyvar, may I ask how long you have been in Lord Baelish's service?" Sansa asked sweetly while they walked.
The blond didn't even miss a beat. "I have been Lord Baelish's valet for as long as I can remember, my Lady. I was younger than you are now when he took me in."
That comment instantly caught Sansa's attention. "Took you in? You are his ward?"
Olyvar shook his head a little and stepped over a little puddle which had settled on one of the steps.
"Lord Baelish found myself and Ros when we were very young, though she was older. My parents had died and Ros' had disowned her so we lived as street urchins with only one another to care for us. One day we saw Lord Baelish while he was tending to one of his properties-" Sansa knew that was code for the brothels he owned "-and we were hungry. We pick-pocketed him and ran but he and Lothor caught up with us. Lother was ready to beat us for it but Lord Baelish refused to let him. The lord said he saw potential in us and instead of us being beaten we were brought to his former home and given food and beds." They paused on the steps then, almost at the stone wharf. "I suppose, in a way, we are the closest thing to children Lord Baelish has but we are not wards. Like I said, Ros is older than I am so she is more hardened and rather standoffish." Oh Sansa could attest to that for sure. "I am the nice one, my Lady."
The pair smiled at that. Sansa didn't quite know how to act around Olyvar now, he was the valet yes but also an unofficial ward. Olyvar was far more than a servant.
"Not many of the gentry would just take in two young children." She mused to herself but the blond still heard it.
"I believe he did something similar with Lothor Brune and one of the maids, Armeca, as well."
Olyvar snapped his mouth shut then and the pair continued towards the mail box as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. Though she walked beside him Sansa found herself confused. She'd expected Baelish to be just a little younger than her mother from what she'd been told. That would have all made sense, Olyvar wasn't too much older than her so he would have been somewhere around twenty or so when he'd taken the blond and Ros in. While a little odd for a man so young to take in children, especially street urchins – was a little strange Sansa admired him for it. However, when it came to Armeca and this Lothor Brune, who she'd still yet to catch sight off, things got complicated, Olyvar had said Lothor had been with Baelish when he'd been taken in so how old was Brune? Maybe I misunderstood something?
The two didn't speak of that subject and instead continued towards the wooden mailbox off in the distance. The birds had started to hush now as the sun dipped further and night started to fall rather than sitting on the horizon. Blue eyes were pretty certain they could see a couple of ships off in the far distance as well.
Soon enough Lady Stark and the valet reached the box and Olyvar took out a key from the pocket of his long jacket to unlock it, once it was Sansa slipped her letter in to sit with several others – one seal she clearly recognized as being that of Tyrion Lannister while many of the others held mockingbirds - and the blond locked it all back up.
"Thank you for indulging me in a walk, Olyvar."
"Of course, my Lady, your thanks really isn't needed." He pulled a pocket watch from his grey waistcoat then and peered at it for a moment. "You should change for dinner, Lady Sansa, the chefs are creating a special feast for yourself and the other guests."
Sansa nodded. "You're probably right. Will Lord Baelish be joining us this evening?"
Sansa really had started to get anxious to meet this mysterious man, pinning down his age would be helpful now as well.
"He will, yes. My Lord has been unusually busy as of late and regrets his absence."
"Quite the adept businessman, I suppose." Sansa smiled at the blond.
"He most certainly is."
Together they returned to the castle somewhat quicker than they'd left though the darkness of night had still taken over by the time she reached her rooms once more, she'd just had to pause and take in the stunning sight of the stars lighting the heavens; diamonds twinkling.
Not two seconds after entering her sitting room of light blue there was a knock at the door, Armeca had come to aid Sansa into her evening wear.
"Evening, milady." Greeted Armeca politely in her light accent. "Which dress would you like to wear to dinner?"
Sansa honestly hadn't thought about it, other things had filled her day which had been more important than which dress to wear to dinner. Lady Margaery will have planned all of this out before she even boarded a boat. Still, she felt she needed to look her best for this enigmatic Petyr Baelish.
"I really don't know, Armeca, why don't you surprise me with what you think is appropriate."
The lady's maid stood a moment at that, clearly that hadn't been a suggestion she'd come across before. Regardless the olive-skinned woman quickly went to Sansa's trunk and searched through it.
Sansa knew she had nothing which would match Lady Margaery's beautiful garments and if she had her mother would have swiftly confiscated the dress and called it 'unbecoming of a young lady'. Sansa just hoped she didn't look out-of-place at dinner, then again, she doubted Yara Greyjoy would don a dress so she was reasonably safe.
Soon enough Armeca had found a suitable dress of emerald-green and made quick work of getting Sansa into it before she sat before the vanity so Armeca could comb her hair then pin it in place.
The redhead hoped that dinner would be much like breakfast had been, she'd managed to stumble her way through that and felt fairly prepared for it to come once more. Then again, anything could have been thrown at her, there had been talk of a conclave and secret selling.
"There, milady, you look lovely." Said Armeca kindly.
Sansa took a moment to look at herself, her hair held up to show off her neck and her green dress bringing out the bold red of her hair.
Sansa smiled. "Thank you, Armeca. You've done wonderfully."
With that she rose to her full height – tall for a girl – and indulged in a calming breath before she left for the dining room.