Chapter Twenty-One

Confessional

Petyr had been having a very rough time for some while now. Ever since Sansa interred him in this simple room she had been making regular visits to punish him in her own way for all of the harm he had caused her family with his play for power, and most specifically with his plots against her father and eventual betrayal of that man.

Sansa had asked him simple questions each time she had visited as she had applied the sting of the lash she used upon his backside, and Petyr had done his best to answer as honestly and wholeheartedly as he could. She had mostly wanted to know why Petyr had done it all; what exactly drives a man to make such decisions?

He had honestly answered that everything he had done was part of a somewhat loose plan to always bring himself a little closer to the throne. He didn't have the bloodline to be in any sort of line of succession, but he could at least ingratiate himself with the current ruler, which in this case had been the Lannister family.

It had been no happenstance that Petyr had forged a feud between that family and the Starks. He had known that Robert Baratheon would nominate Ned Stark as the hand of the king, and killing the current hand, who happened to be kin to Ned, and then blaming that death on the Lannisters cemented Ned as the new hand and turned him against that house.

From there Petyr only had to fabricate why the Lannisters would have murdered the previous hand. That proved simple once Petyr had learned through his network of spies that Jamie Lannister was the true father of not only the up and coming prince but in fact of all of Robert Baratheon's children. He did however attest that Robert's death in a hunting accident was not his machination.

No, that boar which had mortally wounded King Robert had just been incredibly good luck from the perspective of Petyr, whom had thought that his plan might perhaps fail through confrontation between Ned and Robert concerning the Lannisters, or at least taken a considerably long time to implement more events to push things over the edge.

With Robert dead though, Ned predictably made his move to seize the throne, and Petyr was there, ready and waiting to betray him, ensuring his death as a traitor and endearing himself to the Lannister family. Cersei had proven less grateful than he might have hoped though, and he had started his plot concerning Sansa.

As before, Petyr gave her tearful assurances that he had in fact not wanted her mother to perish in the conflict he had started, but that he had considered the possibility, and calculated it as an acceptable risk. As Sansa had thoroughly beaten him that night he had tearfully recanted to her through screams of pain that he had felt betrayed.

Twice had she betrayed him; once when she became beholden to Ned's brother, whom Petyr had challenged to a duel for her hand and been soundly beaten. Catelyn had saved him from death, though; when that man had moved to run him through she had begged for his life, claiming Petyr to be 'just a boy'.

That first account he had let go of, on account of his miserable defeat, and he had even forgiven Catelyn, seeing as she had saved his life despite the fact that the words she chose humiliated him. But when that Stark fell and she moved to marry another, Petyr's feeling of betrayal only grew, and while he could never hate her enough to directly harm her, he would no longer seek her hand.

Nor protect her from the deadly repercussions of his plans, should she place herself in the way, which he had known in his heart she would. She had always chosen others despite his undying love, Petyr had explained, and his heart had grown cold from it. But then had come Sansa, every bit as beautiful as Catelyn, her spitting image.

When Petyr had conspired with the Lady Olenna to poison young King Joffrey he had created a plot to gain real hold on the Lannisters, since he had come to realize that Cersei was no power to be easily manipulated. But also, it had been done to kill the bastard king to free Sansa from his grasp, so that Petyr might whisk her away to safety.

Sansa had punished him terribly when he had said that bit, and Petyr had regretted it dreadfully, instead recounting the truth of the matter, which was that despite his affection for Sansa, he still planned to use her as he had used all of the rest of her family towards his own agendas. First, he had murdered her aunt, which was something he admitted he had always planned.

Having secured the Vale through Lyssa Aryn's orphaned son, he now had an army, and once he had married Sansa to the bastard son of Roose Bolton, the man whom had betrayed the Starks and become Cersei's Warden of the North, Petyr could then return to Cersei and inform her of this, pitting the Lannisters against the Boltons.

In exchange for a promise from the queen that he become Warden of the North upon leading the Vale to victory against Roose, he then returned north to carry out that plan. He insisted to Sansa for some time that he had not known what sort of man Ramsay had been, but she had not accepted this answer, and he admitted the truth shortly afterwards.

Petyr had heard things, rumors about the terrible nature of Ramsay Bolton, and in the end, it had not changed his mind concerning his final decision. On Petyr's return, he had found that Sansa had escaped and had to work quickly to return to her graces, to get her to ask him to help her with his forces from the Vale, which he had already marched toward Winterfell.

She ended up doing so, and Petyr was able to wage his war against the Boltons with the unexpected luck of also having Jon's forces there to secure his victory. The Boltons had to die to a man, of course, Petyr gave orders to that effect; no one could remain alive to disprove his allegations that Roose had betrayed the crown.

Now stood a serious roadblock to his progress though; Jon and his army of wildlings and Northmen from several Houses. The Vale forces were not about to turn on them as they might have on Sansa alone, which had been Petyr's plan all along; to apprehend Sansa as a traitorous regicide and return her to Cersei amid fanfare and pomp on his way to becoming Warden.

That last part did not come easily, but when Sansa offered to remove him from the wall and allow him rest he finally caved in, admitting through a hail of tears that he had planned all along to use and ultimately betray her, though he claimed no joy in it. Petyr had only truly wanted Ned Stark dead; the rest of his family were unfortunate pawns.

When she had held him down and punished him some more, he had apologized profusely in the way a broken man does, until he had passed out from the strain of it all, and Sansa had finally left him to his shame.

Petyr was certain after that affair that he would never again see Sansa Stark. Now that she had gotten the answer to the burning question of why Petyr Baelish had set out to destroy her family he assumed she would be thoroughly done with him, especially seeing the truly dark nature of his malice and disregard for her and her kin.

But no group of soldiers had arrived to carry him off. No armed escort to the chopping block. Petyr wondered why it was that Sansa left him alive of course, hoping that it wasn't truly to prolong the torturous lifestyle she had so far bequeathed him. But also, he wondered at the dread he felt of what would happen when Jon returned.

As a man that studied people as a way of life, Petyr felt he knew Jon well enough to be the sort whom followed in the footsteps of their father. And Ned Stark had a reputation for being a firm believer in sorting out criminals with beheadings. Considering everything Sansa did to him almost daily Petyr should look forward to it.

He should savor the idea of the sort of quick death Jon would offer him as a release from the constant trial his life had become, but even now after all that had happened, he found himself terrified by the prospect of dying. It made him feel like a coward that he couldn't face the prospect of ending himself, and it added another drop to his sea of shame.

But Jon wasn't back… yet. And Sansa had not had him executed, which fell in line with the things she had said during his trial concerning a long unhappy life of punishment and constant regrets. She hadn't punished Petyr in a number of days, though; something that Petyr tracked quite easily and well. He had to wonder what was keeping her from it. Had she truly tired of him?

There was a knock on the door, which caused Petyr to jump. The first reason for this was because he didn't truly expect anyone; he had nearly convinced himself that Sansa had washed her hands of him, and that the next person he would see would be Jon or an emissary of Jon, come to end the bitter extension Sansa had added to his life.

The other reason he was surprised was because Sansa would not have knocked before entering the room where she stowed him away, never had and never would. She was the Lady of Winterfell after all and had little reason to respect any desire for privacy that Petyr might have, or show him and form of respect whatsoever, really.

"Come in?" Petyr asked, feeling awkward for even saying such. Despite its lack of furniture this room was far more lavishly appointed than most prison cells, certainly, but he had not forgotten that he was a prisoner; not a guest. Having anyone treat him otherwise made him feel more uncomfortable than he might have expected to feel.

The door opened and Ramsay Snow entered, smiling widely at Petyr with that smug, toothy grin of his. "Hello Lord Baelish. I hope you have been finding your stay with us more accommodating of late than it was the last time I was in this room with you."

Petyr looked away, heatedly remembering the state he had been in then. He had been locked to the wall, and Sansa had been… punishing him.

A moment of awkward silence passed between them, Petyr aware of Ramsay's smug grin and Ramsay aware that Petyr was aware, and apparently enjoying the fact, "You know I'm not here on vacation… what brings a patricide to me today? I'm fairly certain that whatever it is I likely want nothing at all to do with it."

The stab at Ramsay's slaying of his own father only caused the slightest falter in his cheery false smile and then Ramsay went on, ignoring the slight, "It has been some time since we have had the chance to converse…"

Petyr glared at him, "Yes… the last time we spoke was right after I had left Sansa in your care. You had promised me you would treat her well."

Ramsay spread his hands even wider than his smile in a mock gesture of accommodation, "Ah, but I did, I treated her so well that now she even runs things!"

The graying brothel keeper grunted as he rose to his full height to level Ramsay with an analytical stare, "Please, not only did you have no hand in that, the one dealt you isn't much better than my own."

Finally Petyr seemed to be able to blunt Ramsay's false bravado, and he gave the other man a small smile of his own as he said, "I may be locked away, but even from here I can tell that she has you on a short leash."

Ramsay growled at this, finally letting his smile slip away for a look more fitting his true feeling, "I do enjoy more freedoms than you, but yes mine is a gilded cage."

Petyr let out a short, humorless laugh, "And exactly what is the point of speaking to me then; do you somehow expect that I could be of help in an escape attempt? From here?" He gestured around the room.

Ramsay only smiled, waiting a moment with his head cocked to the side. The door nearly flew from its hinges at the level of force exerted on it as Brienne burst into the room. As she entered Ramsay turned towards her quickly, and she reflexively swung her fist into his face, easily swatting the small man aside under the weight of her heavy punch.

She advanced a couple more steps with her fists still raised and Petyr cowered, throwing his hands up defensively, "W-wait! I'm not trying anything!"

Brienne paused, her breathing heavy as she took stock of Petyr before her and Ramsay, whom slowly raised himself from the floor nursing the new bruise on his cheek.

Once she realized that he was in fact unarmed, she snatched ahold of Ramsay's arm and dragged him along with her as she made for the door, pausing for a moment to command Petyr, "Don't move." Once out in the hall she called to the nearest patrolling guard and demanded that Ramsay never again be allowed entry into Petyr's room.

She then stormed down the halls of Winterfell, pulling Ramsay along with her as she made headway back to Sansa's quarters.