She could no longer see the dark chestnut colour of the wood her ceiling was made of in her room in Winterfell; instead, she could only see black stone. Unfamiliar and cold. She would have sat up quickly but she was unable to. Her limbs felt sore, as if she hadn't moved for days. In terror, she turned her head only to see strange woman sitting beside her bed. She was fat, middle-aged, with black hair falling on her shoulders. Sansa's pale blue eyes widened because of the lack of recognition; yet, the woman smiled.
"We thought you would never wake up, child."
We? Who is we?
"My name is Kella." The woman continued and moved the pillow below Sansa's head, helping her sit up.
The ease in the woman's tone was what worried Sansa the most. She speaks like she knows me. Like I know her. Her chest heaved up and down, controlling the deep breaths that she was taking. Anxiety, fear, she shouldn't let them win. I am a Stark, I can be strong and brave.
"Where am I?" She managed to ask in a trembling voice.
Kella bit her lip and glanced at the door at the other side of the room.
"It's not my place to tell you any of that, child." She stroked Sansa's auburn tresses and gave her another wry smile. "Come. You must be hungry."
Sansa shuddered and pulled the blanket higher on her body. She was still wearing her usual night gown. What has happened?
"I don't want to get up." She whispered weakly but Kella was already pulling the covers off of her.
"There is a collection of gowns in the wardrobe, I trust a few will be to your liking, m' lady." The woman added before stepping away and exiting the room.
Sansa's hands were shaking as she supported herself on the mattress and sat with her legs hanging off the edge of the bed. The air was different; less cold and it smelled differently. She couldn't recognise it. She looked around the poorly furnished room. Apart from the bed, there was the wardrobe, a night-table, a mirror, a desk and a chair, all of them in darker colour than she was used to. Her first attempt to stand up was a failed one; her sore legs wouldn't hold her so she collapsed back down. With another, more careful try she managed to stand up fully on her feet and make her way to the wardrobe. Just like Kella had said, only a few dresses were to her liking. The size seemed proper, though pretty much all the gowns were coloured with dull shades of green, grey or black. She slipped out of her Winterfell night-gown and changed into a light green one, for the time being. Until I realise what is going on and where I am…
She checked herself out in the mirror; green was a colour she wasn't wearing often but she couldn't deny it was going well with her pale blue eyes and her auburn hair; a harmony of colours. She huffed, realising that there was no comb around her in the room. She used her fingers to brush her hair until it looked decent. She took a deep breath. I have to stay brave.
She left the room. She had to descend a staircase in order to arrive at a small hall. There was a large table in the centre, already served with morning dishes. There were two goblets of wine so she assumed Kella would join her sooner or later and give her a good explanation; her mind, so rich with dreams and tales, was failing in providing her with one. She took a seat at the table and folded her hands delicately on her lap, her azure gaze roaming around her unfamiliar surroundings.
She had been waiting for quite some time but no one would join her; therefore, she decided to go ahead with eating. Only when she picked up the fork did she realise how her stomach was screaming to be fed; as if she hadn't eaten for days. She filled her plate with two pieces of mince pie and devoured them quickly. Her throat felt dry so she also took a few sips from the goblet of wine. Her stomach was almost full when she heard a door behind her opening, the old wood creaking due to its oldness. She turned around to see if it was Kella who at last decided to join her…but no, it wasn't Kella. Sansa felt the colour draining from her cheeks and her face going pale. Her stomach turned and she felt like she was going to be sick. Her body urged her to stand up, to either run away or slap him across the face; but before she could do either his hands were on her shoulders, keeping her down on her chair.
"Forgive my delay, sweetling, I'm afraid I was caught up in…business."
His voice felt like loud drums in her ears. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, realising she hadn't been breathing in the past few seconds. He released her shoulders and took a seat at the table as well, next to her; only then she dared to look at him again. Dressed in a brown cloak, with a matching tunic and breeches, Petyr Baelish was staring at her, his grey-green eyes as deep as the ocean gleaming with amusement.
"You must excuse my humble abode, I'm afraid I do not come from a large castle as you do." He wiggled his eyebrows and tuted. "You look pale, sweetling. Have some more wine." He refilled her goblet from a flagon of wine placed on the table.
He pushed it towards her but she shook her head. More wine would definitely make her sick. She crossed her fingers on her lap and tried to steady her hands, preventing them from shaking further. Was it because of rage or because of fear? She swallowed.
"Where am I?" She made a great effort to stop her voice from breaking.
Such satisfaction was laced on his features that she wanted to stand up and smack him; that wouldn't be very lady-like. She pressed her lips together in a thin line. I have to be self-collected, like mother.
"The Fingers, where I come from." He plainly replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
The Fingers…four narrow peninsulas of the Vale of Arryn. That's a long way from home…
"
But how…" She dared to meet his gaze. No wonder her pale blue eyes were filled with curiosity. This can't be real…Soon I will wake up.
"You'd be surprised at how even the modest men of the North accept a decent amount of money in return for their useful services." He took a sip of his goblet of wine.
He can see right through me.
"You drank wine during your last dinner in Winterfell. It made you tired and dizzy. Such a good opportunity to have someone smuggle you away, don't you think?" He arched an eyebrow. She could swear her curiosity was reflecting on his face as well. He wants me to think…to understand his malevolent plans. She wrapped her slender arms around her body and shuddered. Her gaze dropped to her food. If I look in his eyes for a little while longer, I will scream.
"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was like a strangled sound. She had begun shaking. I need to go home…
He chuckled and reached over to place a hand on her quivering arms. His touch was surprisingly warm and gentle.
"You will find out in time. Let's enjoy this breakfast now, shall we?" His voice was grating but when their eyes met, he was smiling at her so widely she could almost believe it was genuine.
"I'm not hungry anymore…I want to go home." Her auburn eyebrows furrowed. Was it the thought of home that gave her strength? "They will look for me. They will find me and my brother will have your head." Have I already accepted that father is out of the picture?
"Perhaps…though considering how dutifully you handled the situation and didn't tell anyone about our meetings, do you truly believe someone will look for you here?" He cocked his head to the side.
He is mocking me. The Fingers were a small, poor area no one cared about. It had no power, no profit, no wealth. No one would think anyone from there had a motive to snatch her away.
"Then maybe I will run away." She stated in a steady tone.
"By all means." His eyes were challenging. Only then did she realise his fingers were stroking her arm. "There is nowhere to go, sweetling. Your stay here won't be too long, I promise you. No harm will come to you."
But harm has already come to me, she wanted to reply but stopped herself from doing so. She simply nodded. There wasn't much she could do for the time being. Yet the silence only encouraged him to continue his touches instead of words. His fingered trailed her arm, her shoulder and brushed against her neck. His skin was cold but how could it set hers on fire? She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a whimper. He smirked.
"Come, my lady. Let's take a walk outside."
He stood up and walked towards one of the doors of the hall. He opened it and waited for her to join him. She was reluctant. What am I supposed to do? Play along with his game and see where it leads. It was a dangerous game, kidnapping the daughter of the Warden of the North. I will play along and work on a solution. She followed him and together they strolled through a hallway until they reached a small open gate. The scenery she witnessed outside was unfamiliar; stony, treeless and gloomy. The wind was rough; she could hear it whistling. The further outside they went, the more she could feel the strong breeze slapping her face. They walked silently on a stony path. She was looking around, examining her new surroundings. There weren't many houses and even those that were actually there, they looked small and poor. He must have noticed her curious gaze so he made a comment.
"The Fingers is the right place to be, if you are a rock."
She wanted to smile at that statement but she held herself back.
"All this belong to me by right. Strange isn't it? Some inherit the throne, some inherit the greatest castles in the Seven Kingdoms, and others inherit stones." He elicited a snorting laugh.
"Some don't inherit anything." She murmured.
"Clever girl." He seemed satisfied with her indication. "There is no power to seek if you are living at the Fingers."
"And is it power you are seeking?" She quickly regretted asking that.
He never answered. They both fell back in silence and continued their course on the path. Walking relieved the previous soreness she was feeling but it was also replacing it by tiredness. With a careless step, she stumbled on a stone and lost her balance. Everything happened in half a heartbeat. Before she would fall, his arms were suddenly around her, supporting her against him. Her hands landed on his chest and she tried to regain balance. She realised she had closed her eyes because of the fear of falling. She opened them again slowly and looked up at him. Their faces were so close that she could feel his breath against her features. The mockery and amusement had vanished from his expression; there was something else there now. Concern? How dare I think that…He does not care.
Their eye-contact was becoming more and more intense so she had to break it. He released her from his hold, making sure she was steady again.
"Mind your step."
Those were the only words he spoke until they returned to his abode. She couldn't call it a castle but it was a much larger and more decent house than the other ones she had seen during their walk. He escorted her to her room and leaned against the doorframe when she sat down on her bed.
"Kella will prepare a bath for you. It will help you relax." He seemed absent-minded. "I will see you later. I am sure there is more we need to discuss."
Sansa nodded and watched him turning away and leaving. She was alone again, in an unknown land, with people she didn't know and trust. She stroked the fur of the blanket. It reminded her of the sigil of her House; a direwolf. She couldn't imagine how devastated her mother must have been when she found out her eldest daughter was missing. Robb would be furious…but, but maybe father has returned by now? Maybe that could give them hope…
She felt her eyes flooding with tears but she refused to let them run down her cheeks. She sniffled and gripped the fur. I want to go home. I shouldn't be here. Why did he bring me here…
A part of her wanted to hate him for what he had done, taking her away from her family and not even being clear about the reason why. But she kept remembering his face when he held her earlier. She had never seen him so unguarded, not even when he had kissed her.
Kella joined her soon and the hot water as well as the flowery scent washed her troubled thoughts away.