Thread: GoT - A Wolf and a Mockingbird (Miss Tris x Shadows)

The following thread is based on the Game of Thrones television series. Our first two scenes are written adaptions as seen in Season 7, Episode 1 and Season 6, Episode 10 , respectively. Bright blue eyes stared off into the courtyard, taking only a mild interest in the action that unfolded before them. The steady clashes of steel and murmur of conversations and the general noise of traffic gave Sansa an odd sense of clarity. She would stand out here, upon the second-story wooden walkway that overlooked the grounds, lost to her thoughts for hours at a time. So it had been when she was a girl in Winterfell, and so it was again now that she had returned as an adult. Her sight remained focused on the woman who had sworn to serve her, Brienne of Tarth, and her squire, Podrick. Their training exercises served as a constant reminder to the squire that he often left himself open to attacks, which Brienne would exploit. She'd chide him with a no and theyd reset and start again. Over and over. Sansas mind was elsewhere, carefully weighing some particular concerns, when her attention was pulled back to her sight by the appearance of a wildling. Tormund was approaching Brienne directly, a brow lifted and a heart-on-the-sleeve look of pure admiration upon his rugged face. The tall blonde woman caught sight of the man and his obvious expression just as an engagement between her and Podrick concluded. Perhaps assuming they were still sparring at the previous pace, the squire took the opportunity of Briennes distraction to land a clean shot on her breastplate. In retribution he received a punch to the stomach, followed by being thrown in to a snowbank. I heard she beat the Hound in single combat, Petyr spoke as he approached Sansa on the elevated walkway. The red-head nearly looked at him but purposefully refrained from showing an interest in his company. She is a very impressive woman, he continued as he settled by her side. What do you want, Lord Baelish? she asked in a unique combination of bored and annoyed. I want you to be happy. I want you to be safe. I am safe. Im at home, surrounded by friends. Sansa cast a glance in Petyrs direction as she spoke the latter part. She had believed Petyr to be her friend, once upon a time she struggled, now, to convince herself it was still true. I have Brienne to protect me from anyone that would harm me, she continued, her gaze returning to the courtyard beneath. Tormund was speaking with Brienne Sansa couldnt hear what was being said between them, of course, but she need only witness the way the man looked at the lady to know that he was absolutely infatuated. Petyr shifted his position, leaning the middle of his back against the railing. Sansa could more easily make eye contact with him now, her gaze only needing to shift a few degrees to look the man directly in the face. Still, the young womans eyes remained upon Brienne and Tormund. It appeared that the lady had enough of conversing with the wildling, walking away from him with a shake of her head. She approached the weapon rack and exchanged her training equipment. What about happy? Petyr asked. A pause existed between them, Sansa having no answer to offer. The quiet persisted long enough for Brienne to finish swapping her gear and start an approach to the stairs that would bring her directly to Sansa. Why arent you happy? Petyr pressed. What do you want that you do not have? At the moment peace and quiet. Sansa did not look at Petyr as she delivered the stab, no doubt adding markedly to the insult. Moments later the ascending steps of Brienne could be heard, causing for both Sansa and Petyr to look in her direction. Her appearance suited nicely to dismiss Petyr. As if sensing her intentions, Lord Baelishs lips parted to speak. No need to seize the last word, Lord Baelish, Sansa cut him off. I will assume it was something clever. Sansa continued to purposefully deny Petyr her direct attention, instead turning fully to face Brienne. The latter looked upon the two expectantly. My lady, Petyr spoke cordially to Brienne. He shifted his gaze back to Sansa, offering a softer version of the courtesy. My lady. His sight lingered upon the red-haired woman, a short pause or hesitance, perhaps proceeding his exit. Brienne and Sansa alike remained quiet for several moments. Once Lord Baelish was out of earshot Brienne asked, Why is he still here? Sansa gave a soft sigh. We need his men. Without the Vale, Ramsay Bolton would still hold this castle. She paused a moment. Littlefinger saved us. Brienne could only nod in agreement, even if she did so without any enthusiasm. She would concede the point that Lord Baelishs presence or at least that of his men had turned around the Battle of the Bastards. Still. She held no love for the man and she did not trust him. He wants something, she observed as they watched Litterfinger take his leave through the courtyard. I know exactly what he wants. He had told her, after all. Not but a day previous he had confessed to her in the godswood, told her everything that he desired. Every time I am faced with a decision I close my eyes and see the same picture. Whenever I consider an action, I ask myself will this action help to make this picture a reality? He closed the distance between them, Petyrs gaze holding Sansas with an intensity from which she couldnt escape. Pull it out of my mind and into the world? And I only act if the answer is yes. He paused for the span of a breath. A picture of me, on the Iron Throne, he spoke the last four words in a low tone, forcing the secret of his ultimate ambition past his lips for the first and perhaps only time, and you by my side. Sansa soaked in his words. She knew that Petyr was a dangerous man although she knew not the half of what he had done or caused to happen, still the glimpse of what she had seen was enough to be terrifying. She wasnt frightened, however. He leaned in to kiss her and Sansa put out a hand to hold him back. Its a pretty picture, she remarked without emotion. She moved to step past Petyr, intent on taking her leave without any further discussion. But Petyr was famous for getting the last word. When Sansa was a half a dozen paces away he called to her News of this battle will spread quickly through the Seven Kingdoms. I have declared for House Stark for all to hear. Youve declared for other houses before, Lord Baelish. Its never stopped you from serving yourself. The past is gone for good. We can sit here, mourning its departure or we can prepare for the future. You, my love, are the future of House Stark. A beat. Who should the North rally behind? The trueborn daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark, born here at Winterfellor a motherless bastard born in the south? Sansa had halted for their conversation but she hadnt bothered to turn around to face Petyr. And, after hearing what it was he had to say, she walked away without a response. Jon was all that she had. Her mother was dead. Her father was dead. Robb was dead. Rickon was dead. Brienne claimed to have seen Arya, who was at the time a hostage of the Hound, but had lost tabs on her whilst at combat with her captor. It wasnt a recent event and nothing was to be seen or heard from Arya since. She had learned that Bran hadnt been murdered by Theon Greyjoy, after all, but whether or not he still survived? And then, later that night Jon Snow was named King of the North. Sansa approved but she showed only the stone expression her house was known for as the bannermen called out their allegiance for the newly named King of the North. Sansas sapphire eyes shifted to Lord Baelish. He was openly watching her, remaining quiet and calculating Sansa could only imagine what sort of schemes might be manifesting in his mind. The young woman would have been content to keep ignoring Lord Baelish if he hadnt posed such a threat as it was she kept him at an arms length while trying to decide how it was that she could play his game. She could play not at all order him executed for the crimes she knew of, have a certainty that was otherwise impossible to gain. Or Summon Lord Baelish, she spoke to a guard as she approached her chambers for the evening. Of course, Lady Stark. She continued on, through the threshold of Winterfells master chambers, soon after disappearing behind closed doors. Quarter of an hour later, Lord Baelish answered the summon. Yes? Sansa responded to the knock at the door. The woman turned as she heard the hinges moan, her gaze settling on Petyrs face as he took steps into her chamber. He spoke some courtesy or remarked of her call as he entered and shut the door behind him. Sansa said nothing. She watched Lord Baelish in silence for several long moments before casting her gaze towards the space directly before her feet, then returning her eyes to Petyr. He followed the unspoken request and approached. His expression betrayed none of what he might expect or feel as he drew near to her, halting and patiently awaiting whatever it might be she had to say. Sansa studied him. Once she had thought Petyr would propose to her. Her sight fell upon his lips, lips she had felt on her own on more than one occasion. He had always been the one to kiss her though she had kissed him in return she had yet to initiate. She had honestly believed that he loved her, had managed to justify to herself that it was okay to love him back. But, thenthe proposal he had spoken of hadnt been for Petyr Baelish. It had been for Ramsay Bolton. She hadnt forgiven him for that. She wasnt sure that she ever could. But she did know for whatever mad reason that she had some lingering attachment from their previous almost-relationship. The world was potentially coming to an end, the Nights King and his countless army of undead on the march for the Wall Fearing Petyr Baelishs betrayal could be entirely moot. But in that moment the one in which Sansa reached a hand to the side of Petyrs face, her fingertips caressing up his cheek as her palm settled along his jawline Sansa wasnt counting on an end-of-days scenario. She had convinced herself that she could make him hers. Sansa focused her sight on Petyrs gray-green eyes. She slid her hand away from his face, her thumb brushing against his lower lip as it left him. Kneel.