After dinner, brandy and a very long evening of talk Oberyn made his way up the stairs of Harrenhal as he had many times before with Tyrion Lannister at his side. The pair still had glasses in their hands and Tyrion was obviously drunk, sometimes the dark-haired man wondered what it was like to become intoxicated.
Everybody else had retired some time ago, while Oberyn and his new Lannister friend – which surprised him – had made certain to drink up everything that had been left over, hadn't taken more than a few seconds for the servants to realize it was best to just leave them be and clean up the empties when they were done.
At the top of the stairs they parted ways and Oberyn paused to watch Tyrion stumble away muttering something quietly to himself, or perhaps it was meant to be singing; the jury was out on that one. The prince had just been about to walk away and fall into his usual bed when he turned to see Petyr appear from the direction of his office with arms full of sweet Sansa Stark; that got a raised eyebrow from him.
"You must be enjoying this tremendously." Oberyn smirked as he approached the other man.
"Oh be quiet." Petyr said with little irritation as he passed the prince and continued towards Sansa's rooms. "Make yourself useful and open the door for me."
Oberyn didn't complain, he was a prince so many probably would have expected him to do so but it would have just got a glare from the green-eyed lord and it was too late in the day for Oberyn to be dealing with that. He trailed along behind Petyr down the hall and around a corner then, just as instructed, pushed the door open so Sansa could be rested in her fluffy bed. Oberyn watched the care Petyr put into his movements, the gentle way he knelt on the mattress and pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. The man from Dorne couldn't help but smile, that was the same way he looked at Elaria.
"How much-" Petyr cut him off swiftly as he raised a finger to his lips.
If Oberyn Martell had learnt anything of life with Petyr it was that things were always far easier when he just did as the man said; within reason of course.
Oberyn waited patiently to speak while Petyr quietly hurried him out of the room and back into the hall like a naughty child who'd invaded his parents' chambers. As soon as the door clicked shut brown eyes met green ones.
"Allowed to speak now, hmm?" Petyr didn't seem impressed though he never did. "How much have you told her?"
"Just enough to keep her going for now, no detail. I think she believes she'd been imagining it all."
Oberyn sighed. "Yes, well, we don't want to go inciting a scurry now do we?"
Baelish straightened the skirts of his waistcoat. "Are you going to be productive or just stand here? I'm sure Oly is probably napping in your bed by now."
The Dornish man chuckled softly to himself, that boy was stunning. "Sansa needs to get out of that corset, you know, she can't sleep in it."
The man with ash at his temples nodded slowly in agreement. "Yes, but I don't think that Sansa would appreciate waking up to two men she hardly knows trying to strip her out of a corset. Armeca shall be along shortly." Baelish paused then and got that distant look he always did when implanting ideas, then suddenly he was back and speaking as if he'd never been away. "I may have to re-think how to explain this all to Sansa. I expected I would need to broach the subject very slowly though Sansa appears far more accepting than anticipated. I've had almost two decades to think and plan it and now it seems like time waisted."
Oberyn let out a little hum. "Never waisted, Petyr. Besides, you have always liked to be the complicated one."
Petyr shrugged, it wasn't the first time he'd heard that from Oberyn and it certainly wouldn't be the last. It was the sort of comment Petyr hardly even noticed any longer.
"It isn't as though I chose this for myself and I certainly did not choose it for her."
The Dornish man hummed again. "Not as though you are going to turn a girl as beautiful as Sansa Stark down though."
Armeca appeared then from one of the dark halls. Though Harrenhal was a prodigious castle there weren't actually that many servants running around, his kitchen staff was probably the largest in his employ save for Lothor's guard of course; they were the people paid to stay out of sight but always be watching.
"You summoned me, my Lord."
Armeca was a good one, always so prompt.
"Yes," began Petyr "Sansa is currently asleep but still in her dress, if she's not woken shortly you are to wake her yourself and help her to change."
With a quick nod to the Lord of Harrenhal she slipped inside and out of sight. There was a moment of silence then which lingered between the two men, just a small pause which hardly needed mentioning.
"Nightcap?"
"I think the evening has called for it." Said Petyr in a tone the other man had come to learn meant 'fuck, I need a drink'.
Neither needed to question as to where this nightcap would take place, they already knew, the pair always ended up in Petyr's office with a large decanter. So, wordlessly, they marched through the dark halls of Harrenhal and back up the out-of-the-way stairs and into the large office Petyr spent most of his time in. Oberyn fell down into the golden settee which called the corner off the office home while Petyr accepted his role of drink-getter. Soon enough the two men were sat side by side and settled into the embroidered fabric with a drink in their hands.
Petyr practically purred at the brandy's fire as it tumbled down his throat. He and Oberyn may not have been able to get drunk but that didn't mean they couldn't appreciate fine liquor; small pleasures and all that.
The man with ash at his temples yanked his stock away then and cast it aside so he could tip his head further back.
"Do you ever wish we were different people?"
To Oberyn that was a silly question but he took the other man's meaning though.
"We could be but I find we just end up the same again, you taught me that. All that really changes is we get ourselves a new name and I don't know about you but I like my name."
Petyr hummed a little as he sipped some more of the brandy. "You're just enjoying being a prince."
That got the Dornish man to chuckle. All around them it was silent, just the crackle of the fireplace not even a bird could be heard from its nest. These were real moments of peace.
"Well, we can't all be as shadowy as you are, brother mine."
"You only call me brother when you want something." Petyr accused yet didn't look concerned.
"But of course, it is the prerogative of a younger sibling." Oberyn smirked. "You could always give me Olyvar to take home."
"No." Was Baelish's quick reply.
"Because he's your son?"
Green eyes snapped to the Dornish man. "Please don't call him that, you know he isn't. Also, if he were my son I would never let him be bedded by his uncle. We aren't Lannisters."
Oberyn's smirk just grew. "Not at the minute."
The pair sat together for a time to speak of the conclave, sat so long that eventually Petyr had to rise and throw another log into the fire and refill their glasses several times over. Much of their conversation passed without needing to be said, sideways glances and the occasional eyebrow raise. It was only when the subject of Sansa Stark popped back up that words once again took over.
"I'm worried for little Sansa's sanity." Remarked Oberyn and had his elder brother not been so skilled at schooling his features he'd have snorted.
"Not to worry, Oberyn, she is by far the strongest of all of us. The issue is nobody has told Sansa that yet." Another sip. "If she was not strong she never would have come all the way here to Harrenhal and you know it." Green eyes turned to the Dornish prince's dark ones. "Best not to underestimate a girl like Sansa Stark."
Oberyn smiled. "Oh, I didn't refer to her learning the truth, I have no doubt she'll overcome that. I meant she shall have to put up with you forever."
Petyr just stared off into the fire as it crackled and debated another drink. His green eyes glowed magically but the danger which lurked within them couldn't hide; couldn't ever hope to do so.
It took a while for Petyr to speak again but when he did his voice was hushed and laced with jest that few every got to hear from a man like Petyr Baelish.
"We cannot all be with Elaria, little brother."
"No, it would seem not." The tanned man hummed lightly in agreement before he teased. "You should be nicer to me, Petyr. After all, I am the only one of us that can stand you."
Petyr shrugged. "Yes, indeed, however the feeling is mutual as you well know."
Oberyn tipped his glass upside down then as if to prove to himself that it was empty before he rose to his feet and left the glass on the side table. He stared at the older man a moment then rested a large hand comfortingly on his shoulder.
"Goodnight, old man."
Baelish quickly shot a glare at Oberyn's back as he headed out of the office. "I'm eleven minutes older!"
The prince didn't respond or look back, just closed the door behind him and went to see if Olyvar was still warming his bed for him.
Petyr found himself surrounded by silence then and instead of leaving for his chambers he decided to float within that quietude while staring at the dying fire with an empty glass in his hand. The Lord of Harrenhal didn't speak and hardly even moved, too locked up inside his thoughts. Everything was finally falling into place. Soon enough he'd be able to stop around teasing her and just be with her.
Harrenhal had been dank and lonely without Sansa there but now she was he felt as though the castle had taken on a new life and was brightening up, as if it had purpose all of a sudden. He'd let the castle have its happiness back, it was just bricks after all.
Eventually Petyr stood, leaving his own empty glass beside Oberyn's, and stepped to the large mockingbird painting directly behind his desk which took up almost all of the wall. With ease he reached up and pushed the bird's eye which had the painting rolling upwards to reveal a large, golden combination lock awaiting five digits. Petyr didn't even need to think, he just rolled the dials around and listened to the click as they set in place before a section of the wall opened inwards admitting him inside. Rebuilding Harrenhal's best perk was by far that he'd been able to put secret rooms in wherever he damn well pleased, hence why he'd managed to hide away the entire top of Kingspyre Tower and no one had ever noticed his office should have been several floors higher.
Inside lay a vast, circular room that led off in several different directions as well as to a staircase. Lord Baelish was more focused on the smaller square room across from him, the one with stone doors. He stepped inside only to be met by a wave of cold air as the hidden door clicked shut again and the painting rolled back into place. The sconces soon would warm the room back up.
These secret rooms weren't like the rest of Harrenhal, he'd not made such an effort to decorate them and bring a certain level of class and beauty to these rooms, no, they'd remained old stone of dark gray, they were original and did not play to the masses because they weren't for them.
A series of desks littered the square room, each topped with various stacks of papers some new others ancient looking and numerous candelabra to light the room. Shelves had been carved into the stone and then stuffed full of items for all manner of things, but what was most eye-catching were the six display cases which lay two to a wall. The west wall was void of display case instead a large cabinet stood proud and waiting.
Petyr paused a moment at one case, a large rectangular thing lit by a sconce directly above it. Inside sat an old longbow made of slightly yellowed Yew wood. The bow was ancient in its own right, clearly had been worn and well used, but no plaque adorned the display case to inform. Green eyes practically caressed it for a time as thoughts passed through his brain but then the reason he'd entered took over him again and the bow was left forgotten.
Petyr cleared his throat as he approached the Ghiscari cupboard that had long ago been lavishly decorated but he cared not for its appearance, not in that moment at least, he only cared about what lay inside. With a small smile Lord Baelish rested his right hand on the door but didn't open it, not yet, it wasn't time even though he wanted it to be.
"Soon, my sweetling."
~X~
After being woken by Armeca in the night to take her stay corset off Sansa had slipped back into slumber without her brain having really clicked back on. However, when Armeca had woken her in the morning to dress for the day it had and she really didn't know if it had all been a dream or something was seriously wrong. Despite all of that though she needed to be more focused on the conclave.
"I still don't understand what this meeting is all about." Sighed Sansa while Armeca tied her under petticoat in place.
"You shouldn't worry, milady, you'll be all right once you're in there, I'm sure." She encouraged in that accented voice of hers. "It's in your blood."
Odd comment, thought Sansa but, then again, she'd heard rather a lot of them since she'd arrived at Harrenhal. The redhead didn't feel anything strange or – for lack of a better term – off about her maid, she seemed to be hiding something but Sansa believed that to have more to do with her accent than anything sinister. Olyvar had said Petyr had taken Armeca in along with himself, Ros and possibly Lothor; Sansa doubted Petyr Baelish would do so if he couldn't trust them. Rather then dwelling on yet another peculiar thing Sansa chose to remain focused on this disturbing conclave and thankfully Armeca just continued.
"I hope you like the dress, milady, it is to be your war dress."
Sansa's brow furrowed sleepily, she'd not brought anything even remotely like a war dress and when Armeca finished tying the laces of her stay corset she turned to find it wasn't a dress she'd ever seen before. Hung neatly and waiting for her was a work of beauty. It looked like something Lady Margaery would own but certainly not Sansa; her mother never would have approved.
The gown revealed far more than she'd worn before but it wasn't outrageous in the least. The fabric was clearly silk and the color of her eyes with lace at the sleeves but not ruffled like all of her others, there was also enough silver embroidery to put even Queen Cersei to shame. Stunning was the only word Sansa could use to describe it.
"It's perfect, Armeca, but where did it come from? This isn't mine."
The maid shrugged. "It is yours now, milady. It's a gift from Lord Baelish. He told me to bring it to you as it was to be your 'battle dress'."
The redhead beamed at that, a completely involuntary movement which filled her with happiness. She had more questions than she could count for the mysterious Lord Baelish and would probably add another hundred by the time night fell, but that could all wait. For now Sansa contented herself with being delighted by the knowledge that Petyr thought her more than capable of sitting with them in that conclave, of taking part; with little more than an invitation and a gown he'd placed more faith in her than anyone else ever had.
"I did not realize today was war." She said with a smile as Armeca set about slipping the gown petticoat over Sansa's head.
"It may not be my place, milady, but these conclave meetings are always war, they're just fought with words rather than swords."
Armeca was probably right. People from all over Westeros and even Essos had gathered for this, people with all different affiliations and their own personal agendas, so Sansa could well believe that this was to be war. Should probably be thankful for the battle dress.
"So I will be playing a game of spot the crook." Sansa sighed.
Petyr's faith in her was nice but she didn't have the same level of belief in herself.
Armeca snorted loudly then which had the redhead snap her attention to the maid with a puzzled expression.
"Oh, they're all crooks, milady. The trick is finding the one who best serves your needs." Sansa's expression softened at that and turned to a smile, she really did like Armeca and it was becoming increasingly evident that Petyr had actually raised her. "Undoubtedly Lord Baelish and Prince Oberyn are who you should side with."
Armeca was quite a lot more bold than any other lady's maid Sansa had gotten before but she was grateful of it, the olive-skinned woman had given her a lot of helpful information. She let out a breath which turned to deep sigh a moment later when Armeca returned to pinning Sansa's new dress.
"Strange, I find myself part of a war I didn't know needed fighting and an agenda I'm not aware of. Fortunately it seems I have a mysterious confidant." She lifted an eyebrow a moment. "Then again I suppose it is better to have allies I did not know I needed than to be alone."
"Shall I comb your hair now, milady?"
Sansa nodded. She needed to look her best for this even if she still didn't know what she was walking in to. Something told her that looking the part would be at least some of the battle, quite frankly Sansa would take any boon she could get her hands on.
Once fully dressed with her hair pinned in place perfectly she made her way down for breakfast just as she had the day before. Sansa indulged in some deep breaths while each foot automatically put one in front of the other, today was a bid day and Sansa needed to stay calm.
She nearly squeaked in surprise upon reaching the bottom of the grand staircase when Margaery somehow magically appeared then grabbed Sansa's arm so it could be looped with her own. Lady Margaery pulled Sansa close and smiled boldly. Sansa didn't know if she'd have been able to be that happy and bright first thing in the morning.
"We ladies need to stick together today."
The redhead raised an eyebrow. "What about ladies Melisandre and Yara?"
Margaery laughed at that, a very unladylike sound which she quickly hid away until only a small, polite, smile remained. Sansa thought that her new friend had become quite the skilled liar and didn't know whether to be jealous of the talent or wary of it.
"Oh Sansa, take one look at that Greyjoy and you know she doesn't really qualify as a 'lady'." She paused a moment while her face turned serious. "Also, I confess I am not entirely sure what to make of the Red Woman." In all honesty neither did the Stark girl.
Quietly the two women walked through the halls of Harrenhal intent on breakfast and Sansa couldn't help but cast her cerulean orbs to the gallery doors as the memory of the little wolf and mockingbird statue flashed through her mind. There would have to be time for that later.
Neither of the noble ladies were surprised when they stepped inside the dining room and found almost everyone had already gathered at the table for coffee and a meal to start the day. The two women gave the other guests polite smiles as they took their seats and were served by more of Petyr's ever hidden staff.
"Good morning, Lady Stark," began Varys after a sip of sweet tea "I trust you slept well."
"Yes, thank you. Well rested and ready for the day."
Sansa liked Varys, he felt very genuine to her like he actually wanted the best for the world and his fellow man no matter where they'd been born. In Varys' eyes those born in Flea Bottom or at the seat of a noble house, they all had a right to live without fear. Sansa doubted there were very many men like Varys left in the world, the truly good men who only wanted the best for all; everybody else always seemed more focused on wealth and their own status.
Margaery spoke after she'd finished chewing a fresh strawberry. "These conclaves don't usually last more than three days, you'll be back in The North before you know it."
A wave washed over the redhead then as if she'd been dismissed in advance but Sansa pushed it aside when Yara took over the conversation; unlike her fellow lady Yara spoke with her mouth half-full.
"Aye, last time we had thirteen veiled death threats, four blatant ones and at least six attempts at conning one another into deals."
"Seven." Tyrion corrected while he sipped his wine with an expression which clearly stated he wasn't a fan or mornings.
None of that comforted Sansa, not for one second. "I didn't realize this conclave would be so dangerous."
Margaery practically shrugged while Xaro glared at everyone in turn like they'd staged the entire conversation to try to scare him; Sansa wondered how long it would be until he realized not everything was about him.
"At least that was an off-year." Said Lady Melisandre which surprised Sansa because it was the first time she'd elected to speak to her.
"However, Lord Tyrion is the only Lannister here this time so it should be much calmer." Added Oberyn with that charming smile of his.
Baelish suddenly appeared then and Sansa felt him before she saw him, the atmosphere in the room changed and her blue eyes flicked to him before she'd even thought about it. That day he wore a ditto suit of dark blue which paired with her own dress wonderfully … but of course that wasn't important.
"I'll thank you all not to terrify my new guest." Said Petyr as he took his seat at the head of the table beside Oberyn and Sansa just as he had at dinner.
Sansa discovered something startling then, she hadn't thought about it, just taken up the chair because of an innate naturalness to it. Blue eyes turned to Petyr when she felt him peering at her and just for a split second she could have sworn she heard him say 'as it should be' though his lips never moved. This was just one more oddity Sansa had encountered since arriving on Mockingbird Island.
Breakfast continued then, the sound of knives and forks clinked against plates purchased from exotic places. Everyone seemed content to chatter amongst themselves while Sansa silently tried to figure out what she should be more concerned about, the conclave or the things the Lord of Harrenhal had said the previous night, logically she knew the answer to be both, of course it was both, but there and then as she slipped a bite of food into her mouth – a morsel she didn't pay enough attention to taste – the redhead concluded that the conclave was more pressing. Surely if she slipped up there then she'd not only be outed from these gatherings from then on but also become a subject of ridicule for the people around her, well maybe not for Petyr and Oberyn but certainly from some of the people she was dining with. Sansa may have defied her parents by attending but she knew full well that she was still a representative of House Stark and The North. Everybody around her had more practice at this and Lord Baelish appeared to be some kind of master, so Sansa needed to stay calm and hold her own against these people. War Armeca had called it, Petyr had given her a battle dress, so clearly this was no casual meeting. Sansa just hoped that Petyr's faith in her was enough to get her through.
It wasn't until the lord with ash at his temples started to speak that Sansa's mind returned to her.
"We shall finish with our breakfast and then prepare for the conclave," began Petyr though Sansa knew it was all for her benefit "which starts at the stroke of noon."
There was a small round of hums of acknowledgement from those at the table before they all shuffled back to their food. However, oddly, Sansa could sense the feelings of guests had changed, tensions had risen and the jovial conversations of the previous night had started to give way to calculated comments and questions which went unanswered to hide secrets. The only other place that Sansa had encountered such hostile conversation was in King's Landing.
Lady Stark didn't speak much – not that anyone seemed to mind – too lost in her thoughgts of her conversation with Petyr the previous night. She listened for every word she deemed to be of importance but despite having decided which situation was more crucial she'd not been able to get Petyr out of her mind. What had he meant in saying it hadn't been a dream? How had she heard his speak without opening his mouth? Could he read minds? No, no, that was ridiculous … although it would have explained a few things.
Suddenly she felt his foot, shoes adorned with silver buckles, nudge against her own. She was startled out of her emotion filled thoughts and glanced up to him quickly. The man in the blue ditto never said a word to her, instead Petyr just looked at her softly, but somehow, Sansa knew exactly what he was trying to tell her, knew he wanted her to relax and stay strong, that he believed in her; not that Sansa knew what she had done to earn such belief.
Quickly the teenager found herself questioning how he did such things, her mouth wanted to open and ask the question aloud but she refrained, it wasn't a good idea. Then, just when the pair had been staring at one another just a little too long, Prince Oberyn pulled her into conversation as if intent on distracting her from the subject of Petyr Baelish for a short while. Thankfully it worked to some extent.
"How have you been enjoying your stay at Harrenhal, Sansa?" Again the Dornish man dropped her title but she really didn't care. "I hope Petyr has taken good care of you."
There was that fucking smile again, Oberyn knew far more than Sansa about all of this. He and Baelish were somehow in cahoots and she knew it. Maybe Margaery was correct and the two were having sex – though she seriously doubted it – or perhaps it was something else which had bonded them, either way the two of them knew all while Sansa had been left out of the loop.
Sansa plastered on a smile just like she'd been taught from childhood's hour. "I have enjoyed Harrenhal immensely. Things at Winterfell Hall can become somewhat stagnant at times so this trip has been rather refreshing. Also, seeing Theon again has been wonderful." She smiled at the man who sat a few chairs down and across the table from her. "It is nice to have made friends here as well."
Tyrion smirked. "I have no doubt you'll be as skilled as us at the conclave in no time."
Why? What did I say? Instead of questioning it all Sansa just nodded and went along with it, breakfast would be much easier that way.
"Don't expect me to play nice or go easy on you because you are a little girl and it's your first time here." Xaro declared as he straightened his back to look more imposing.
I really don't like you, mumbled the redhead's brain but she suspected that her thoughts were mirrored by everyone else present. Horrid greed and self-importance just pooled from the merchant.
Before the man from Essos could growl anything else out Lord Varys hopped in. "Let us not go speaking as though this is a girl starting at one of Baelish's brothels." Oh didn't that get a smirk and a quick up-and-down from Yara Greyjoy. Varys turned his attention from the dark-skinned man to sweet, young Sansa, there was a kindness in his eyes which made her want to smile. "Regrettably we have a tendency to just drop people into the chaotic pit that is the conclaves."
Petyr set his glass down. "Chaos is not a pit, it is a ladder."
Breakfast continued like that, comments shot between them all, insults disguised as polite niceties though Sansa was quickly learning not to fall for it; she'd also started to see through Margaery. The most notable thing which Sansa had picked up on was the amount of glances Petyr and Oberyn passed back and forth, almost complete conversations without a single utterance.
Whatever Petyr had been saying last night in his office Sansa suspected that Prince Oberyn knew all about it. These two men weren't just in cahoots for the conclave, there was something else going on.
Would Sansa ever understand? Lord Baelish and promised to explain and she'd believed him without question. Peradventure she should have remained at Winterfell and declined Lord Baelish's invitation. No, Sansa couldn't just stay at home until she was married off to Joffrey! At the very least she could learn to play this 'game', as she'd heard it be called, if nothing else she'd be able to navigate life with Joffrey Baratheon better.