Sansa had kept her eyes and ears open for weeks waiting for news, any news but nothing. Petyr had been absent from court for the past few days and when he was here he'd been locked away in his highly secretive small council.
She'd cornered him days ago. His warm smile hadn't fooled her and she knew something was going on. There were too many variables in this situation for Petyr not to have a master plan. This wasn't what she had expected, she spent her days entertaining ladies and sitting beside Ramsay, her nights at least were spent in peace.
Whether Ramsay was now able to derive enough pleasure from the thought of his upcoming 'battle to end all battles' or simply no longer found her attractive given the increasing size of her stomach she wasn't sure. Either was he came into their chamber late, after she was long asleep and he left her equally early on a morning.
She had tried not to sound defeated when she spoke to Petyr "This isn't what I was expecting" was all she could say but her dear friend saw through her. He saw that she was hurting, confused and losing sight of their end goal. He repeated the same words to her that he had said as they approached the Dreadfort that day, when he was to marry her to Ramsay.
"Sansa my dear, this is a necessary evil. I am not leaving you in this situation to be cruel although what you will experience on this journey may well be. You are a Stark, you may be the last Stark and you must learn to play the game, you play the game or your die Sansa and I will not always be here to protect you, it is imperative that you learn."
Sansa knew he was right, she knew they had come so far from the first time she had heard those words and she was proud of that but she had been fighting for years now to feel safety, security and find her home, she was no closer now that she had ever been to it.
As though sensing she were thinking about him Petyr appeared at her chamber door, for a moment he watched her, starring longingly out of the window with her long elegant neck. She looked more like her mother now than ever before and he hated himself for what he was about to say to her.
"My Queen" his voice rang through the room. She jumped and then smiled.
"Petyr, I will only ever be Sansa to you." She nodded, granting silent permission for him to enter.
"Where is our king today?" Petyr said mockingly as he took his place stood beside her in the window.
"He had gone hunting with his guard, taking advantage of the new lands to roam and keeping himself distracted from the recurring urge to take Tomen's head and place it above the gates." Her steely blue eyes didn't move from the forest she gazed at, she knew he was out there somewhere.
"He's done well so far, better than I had expected." Petyr placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "I was expecting some unorthodox bloodshed and a vicious power struggle but he hasn't killed anything important so far." She could feel his hand tense as his voice lowered into a quiet gravelly tone "He has not taken a lover within the walls or beyond, I am certain of it."
Sansa snapped her eyes to search Petyr's, knowing he would never mention such a thing without reason, not to her. Petyr knew the moment he saw sadness fill her eyes that she knew his intentions and he didn't hold back. "Sansa, I can only speak frankly. If you do not satisfy your husband, he will seek satisfaction elsewhere and that is not something we can risk right now." His jaw tensed as he watched her "I will be sending Lardy Margery back to High Garden at the first possible opportunity, it would be best that Ramsay not disagree on the matter."
Sansa's face dropped, Margery was one of the only people who's company she enjoyed in the palace, "Margery is my friend, cant she…" Petyr cut her off, his face serious and Sansa knew not to question him. "Lady Margaery is not your friend Sansa, Margery Tyrell intends to have her sons sit on the Iron throne and she is not deterred by a monstrous King as a match. You have allowed your own sorrow to cloud your judgement and your awareness, what you are not observing in the court could cost you your seat. Margaery has been playing for Ramsay since the moment the crown touched his head and I do not believe he is far from accepting her.
Suddenly it clicked and a sinking feeling filled her stomach, that's why he hadn't shown interest in her recently. Her hand rested on her large swollen stomach and her eyes flickered to Petyr. "I fear I am in no condition to…satisfy him." Petyr felt like blushing, he'd had every sexual conversation known to man with the women who worked for him over the years but Sansa was an entirely different case.
He felt embarrassed at the mere thought of what Ramsay had done to/with her and every part of him wanted to put Sansa in an untouchable room for the rest of her years, where only he could visit her. Alas though, Petyr was a practical man and he had a greater goal in mind for the both of them. He shook his head and Sansa's confused eyes filled with disbelief.
"Petyr, look at me, I can't be more than a few weeks away from having my child." It was true, although Sansa counted herself to be only seven moons past, the size she had expanded to left her questioning whether she had mis counted by a moon. Having been travelling for months with Stannis it would have been easy to miscount.
Petyr stood beside her his eyes fixed back on the forest beyond the small window, "I fear you must try, play the game Sansa, use your weakness to your advantage."
Sansa smiled, if it must happen then it must happen, since she'd heard of Jon's death she'd felt very little of any notable emotion. Evidently, now would not be the time to start.
Ramsay had spent a long afternoon hunting in the forest and he rode back to the castle with a smug grin on his face as his men rode beside him. They had done rather well considering and hiding his escapades had become even more fun than when he would flaunt them for the whole world to see.
It hadn't taken a great deal of orchestrating. He'd given the word long before they'd ridden into battle that day and taken the capitol. His elite band of boys were not to kill the men who opposed them in battle that morning, instead they captured them, restrained them and filled one of the empty carts with them. The evening he received his crown they had been taken to the deepest part of the dungeons where he had them held. Each day a handful were removed and smuggled out with his men when they went 'hunting', Ramsay loved to hunt, but he had no interest in regular game anymore.
He thought to himself as he rode, how much Margery reminded him of Myranda, the same milky brown hair, the same insatiable drive and the little spark that yearned to climb above her station. For the past weeks the girl had given him un deniable signals, she wanted him, she wanted his crown and his protection. He had considered giving into her, it was a well known fact amongst his boys that Ramsay was frustrated, something that only heightened his hunting thirst and sadistic approach to the poor peasant prisoners who he chased mercilessly.
As he rode through the gates to the Capitol he watched as crowds of people who filled the streets parted, looking up at him and lowering themselves to the ground in a mixture of admiration and sheer terror. It was true that his people felt safer under his reign than they had done in years, only not in his presence, it was ironic really. As he passed through them he felt himself stiffen, painfully pressing against the seat of his saddle. There was unfortunately only one person he could think of, the person he couldn't break, the one who would not give in to him.
He walked into the chambers in the dark after at least an hour spent in the dungeon's picking out his game for the next day with the help of his boys, oh, they had great fun. His hands were splattered with blood up to his wrists and his eyes gleamed with joy. He would need to bathe before he could take his place laid next to her but it was worth it.
He saw the small serving girl, Olivia, passing him in the hall outside his chamber door, she sunk to the ground before him and he abruptly pulled her back up, her face fell as she smelt the blood before she saw it.
"There was a hunting accident" he spoke with no real attempt to make her believe him and she nodded. "I will need to bath, draw me a bath and do not wake the queen."
The girls eyes darted as she stuttered "The Queen…is already bathing." Ramsay released her shoulder and the girl ran quickly down the hall.
Curious, he thought as he pushed the door open. It was unlike Sansa to be awake at this time, he wondered whether she was unwell but then the thought passed him, he would have been notified immediately had she been taken ill.
Sansa had waited, her spies in the castle reported that he had returned, he'd gone down the dungeon's to play with the pets he thought she didn't know about. She did and whilst it turned her stomach, it satiated his blood thirst and was probably the main reason Tommen's head wasn't on that spike Ramsay had been pushing for. She'd had the bathing pool filled when he arrived, topped up with scolding hot water ever fifteen minutes she'd sat on their bed and lay in wait for news of his movements. Oliva was her little bird within the palace walls. She had come flying through the door only five minutes ago, red faced and spluttering about Ramsay being on his way. Sansa had her aid her to undress and dismissed her before Ramsay arrived. Slowly she clambered onto the edge of the pool and sat there waiting for him to arrive before she submerged herself.
Her flame red hair flowed freely over her shoulder as she was bathed in the moonlight that flooded in through the window. Cool breeze hitting her warm skin from the open balcony. Looking down at her stomach she sighed, this was never going to work. She felt foolish, there was nothing sexy about the way she looked or felt right now. She'd be lying is she said she hadn't thought about him over the months she'd lay untouched. Ramsay had been a cruel lover but her mind sometimes flicked back to the once he had been passionate and how it had felt when waves of pleasure crashed down on her.