THE LIAR QUEEN
Sansa watched as Littlefinger climbed the steps to the iron throne. She could not believe that this moment they had worked for so long to see was finally coming to pass.
When he had stolen her away from Kings Landing all those years ago she had been a weak child and he had been her savior. He had shielded her from the Lannister queen's malice, from the warring lords of the realm, and from the countless suitors hoping to use her name to achieve power. His services had not come cheap however. It had started with a touch here or there, caresses that crossed the line from the father he was pretending to be. It soon graduated to ever lengthening kisses as he demanded more and more liberties with her body and time. And Sansa, then masquerading as Alayne, had no other options.
News came infrequently to the Vale during the great war at the wall, but Sansa still treasured every piece of news that had come her way. News of the Targaryen queen and the Stark bastard fighting valiently for the realms safety. Petyr had been determined that they stay hidden away in the Vale until the danger had passed and the battle was won. So Sansa had waited. When news of their deaths came, even the knowledge that they had sacrificed themselves to save the realm did not lessen the pain she felt. And when that night Petyr had come to her rooms and demanded entrance, she didn't have the energy to try to dissuade him.
After that, it seemed he no longer cared about trying to feign the appearance of a father with his bastard daughter. And when her belly had begun swelling, he had abandoned it altogether, dragging her into the sept and covering her with a cloak embroidered with mockingbirds.
It had been about that time as well that he had stopped consulting with her and teaching her how to play the game. He seemed content just to have her in his bed, swelling with his child and no longer helped her become a player on her own. But she still watched him always. Watched as he maneuvered people and inched his way closer and closer to the empty throne. And now, with a newborn babe in her arms (named Cat, her husband would agree on no other name) she watched as he ascended the throne. He looked at her, pride etched in his smile and she gave him a gentle one in return, fingering the vial hidden away in her pockets.
Tonight, she would feast with her new king, toasting his success. Praising all the work he had done to get where he was now. She would let him bed her again, all the while whispering loving words in his ear. Let him luxuriate in all that his scheming and betrayals had bought him.
It would be the next day that the symptoms would start and the fever would begin to take hold. She would sit by his bedside, distraught, as his breathing became more and more strained. She would beg the Grand Maester to do whatever it took to save her ailing husband. And when he was living his last moments she would be right there and she would tell him.
The North remembers.
A/N: I know it's been a while and I hope you enjoy this! Still wanting to write whenever inspiration hits me. The last chapter in the series will for sure be 'Queen of the North', but I would still love suggestions before I write that one! Let me know if there's a pairing you would like to see!