Chapter Text
It was raining. The summer rain caused the heat to be bearable. However, the street flooded lightly and mud was around every corner. Despite the rain, many of the citizens of King's Landing were still out and about. Servants were getting drenched as they held umbrellas for their masters or carrying the carriages they liked to ride in. Sansa pulled the dark cloak she was wearing tighter around her. Her hood was up, blocking her red hair from view as well as the light silk dress she was wearing. She had traveled alone to the nicer part of King's Landing and Sansa knew not to travel any further. If she did, who knew what unspeakable damage might come to her there. She knew what her mother always warned her about; men who forced themselves upon a woman.
She missed her mother and wondered when she would see her again.
The brothel was located in a nice corner in the better part of the city. She picked this one for a reason. It was upscale and most likely fitted her need. It wasn't run down or had a dark shadow casted over it like she had imagined. Growing up in the North, Sansa had always been forbidden to seek out those establishments by her father. She had never once dreamt that she would need to but she had heard Theon speak of his times there and about the one time Robb had joined him as well. This brothel was different than the dirty place they had described.
Even from the outside Sansa could see its finery. It was made of white stone, similar to some of the fine houses high lords owned in King's Landing. Not all could stay at court at one time of course. If it had not been for the mockingbird sigil on the front, she might have passed it all together. There were no girls hanging outside the windows, searching for men to pay them. There were no lewd gestures or any sort of depravity Sansa had imagined; even as innocent as she was, she knew what went on between a man and a woman, or at least she thought she did. However, she knew that once she passed through that wooden door, the inside might tell a completely different story.
Sansa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She allowed the rain to hit her face one more time as she gathered her courage. She straightened her shoulder, checked her purse and set her course. She placed on foot in front of the other, walking toward the stone white building; her eyes trained on the mockingbird, the reason why she had chosen this brothel. He owned it. The man who claimed to be her friend. She felt as though she shouldn't trust him and that he was dangerous. Her father had put his faith in him and now he was dead. Yet, she couldn't blame him completely for that because if she had not run to Cersei, crying that her father was going to force her to leave King's Landing, maybe he would still be alive. He might have her father's blood on his hands, but then again, so did she.
Pushing the past aside, Lord Baelish, Petyr, had proclaimed to be her friend. He promised that he would take her home. When her engagement to Joffrey had ended, Sansa being displaced for someone else, he promised that she would see her mother again. Now she was engaged again to the last person she would ever want to marry, outside of Joffrey. She was meant to be queen but now she was forced to marry the Imp. She was to be Tyrion Lannisters's bride and she would be forced to allow him to take her to bed. She had imagined how her first time would be and she knew it would be awful with Tyrion. If she was forced to warm his bed she refused that he take her virginity. Maybe if he learned she was not a virgin, he wouldn't want her.
That is what brought her to the brothel. She racked her brain as to who she would be willing to give herself to and while several charming knights entered her mind, she figured they all would be too nobel to do what she needed to be done. That was how Petyr entered her mind. He was handsome and deep down she knew that she was attracted to him, even if she didn't want admit it to herself. All of her courage pushed her to leave the Red Keep under disguise and heading toward the center of King's Landing. She knocked on the wooden door and a woman with curly red hair answered.
“I was hoping to speak with Lord Baelish.” Sansa got out before the woman could speak. She didn't take her hood down for fear of being recognized. She made sure she wasn't followed because she knew that Cersei had many eyes in many places. “I heard that he was in today.”
“I'm sorry dear but he is not having auditions today. Perhaps you can come back another time.” The woman moved to close the door but Sansa placed her hand on the door, stopping it from closing. In doing so, the hood fell down revealing her distinct red hair. The rain caused it to became drenched quickly but Sansa didn't notice. Her gaze was focused on the woman in front of her and how her eyes widened slightly, as if she recognized her. Thinking back, Sansa remembers seeing her in Petyr's company several times in the past. “I apologize My Lady, follow me. I will take you to him.”
The woman stepped aside and allowed Sansa to pass her. Quickly she took in the scenery. It was colorful, full of silk and sofas. It was spotless and not a speck of dirt could be found much to Sansa's surprise. There were several half dressed girls and some boys around. Many had several men trailing behind them. Sansa adverted her eyes to anything obscene as a good lady would. She could feel the heat of embarrassment on her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself as though to protect herself from anything untoward.
“You can wait in here, I will have Lord Baelish meet you here.” Sansa nodded as she was ushered into a room. She heard the door close behind her and Sansa pulled the cloak off. She tossed it onto one of the couches that lined the wall. She sat down and looked around. Like the rest of the brothel she had seen, it was immaculate. There was a table near a window that was closed. It had golden shutters and a window seal that would seat at least two people. There were couches on the back wall filled with plush pillows and a small table in front of it. There was a deep red carpet placed on the floor and Sansa had the urge to run her bare feet through it.
Sansa stood from the sofa she sat upon and kicked off her slippers. She pushed them to the side and went to the red carpet. She slipped her toes into the plush carpet before standing on it completely. The carpet was soft and a smile appeared on her face. She twirled slightly feeling like a child again. Her father had a bear rug in the small library in Winterfell that she used to play on when she was a child. It made her almost forget as to why she was there for a second. A deep chuckle came from the doorway and it made Sansa pause with wide eyes.
Petyr leaned against the archway with his arms crossed. He wore his smirk that he was well known for. His one hand was touching his mustache, stroking it. His grey-green eyes took in her figure as though he was devouring her. Sansa once again had the urge to cover herself, even though she was fully dressed but fought against it. If she was going to go through with her plan, this man was going to see far more of her than he ever had. Unless he let her keep her clothes on? One could hope.
“Don't stop on my account Sweetling. I was rather enjoying the show.” Petyr chuckled but Sansa stayed still. He pushed off the archway and closed the door behind him. He sat down on one of the chairs up against he wall. He crossed his legs and placed his hands on his knee. He appeared to be ever the gentleman but Sansa knew better. Before her sat a whoremonger and liar. This was the man she trusted her innocence with; and she couldn't be more excited. The nervous excitement surprised her. “I have imagined you in my brothel many times but I never thought it would come to pass. Tell me, what are you doing here?” Sansa sucked in a breath, gathering her courage once more.
“I'm sure you have heard of my engagement to Lord Tyrion.”
“I have. I would offer my congratulations but I'm rather disappointed actually. It wasn't what I had in mind.” Petyr cocked his head at Sansa's obvious surprise. She never thought he would be disappointed at the news that she was to be married or that he had something else in mind, whatever that meant. She thought he might not care or be frustrated that it ruined his plans to take her home, but never disappointed. “And since you have come to me, here of all places, I can only assume you are not pleased with this arrangement as well.”
“No. I'm not.” Her voice was meek and timid. She batted her eyelashes at him and bit her lips. She slowly unhooked the clasps that were holding the front of her dress together, watching Petyr's surprise at her actions. He didn't stop her but just continued to watch. “I don't want Tyrion to be the first man who beds me. I don't want him to bed me at all but unfortunately I have no choice in the matter. However, I feel as though it is my virginity and I have the right to choice who I give it to. I choose you, if you will have me.” With that, Sansa pushed her dress off of her shoulders, allowing it to hit the floor. Sansa stood in nothing more than her corset and see-through white underskirt.
“My my, imagine my surprise.” Petyr stood from his chair and walked toward Sansa. She sucked in a breath, unsure of what he was going to do. He placed his hand on her shoulder lightly, trailing his fingers on her skin as he walked behind her. He took her sopping wet hair and pushed it over her other shoulder. He then put his hands on her hips, brining her butt back against his groin. He leaned down and kissed the hallow point of her neck causing her to whimper. “Tell me Sweetling, what do you think happens when a man takes a woman?”
“Well,” Sansa thought hard to what her mother had told her, summoning all her lessons and lectures from her childhood. “A man, on their wedding night, he will lay his bride down upon a bed, lift her skirts before inserting himself inside of her.” She recited the same speech she had given herself since Tyrion informed her of their impending vows. The more she said it, the more she realized she didn't want to be a virgin when it happened. Petyr chuckled against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.
“Before I, what did you say? Lift your skirts? You need a far more hands on education.” Petyr pulled away from her. Sansa turned to look at him with wide eyes. She didn't expect him to let go of her so quickly and she would never admit it out loud but she missed his arms around her. He took a small chair and placed it on the red carpet, facing the sofas. “Sit.”
“Are we going to....”
“Oh yes My Lady. I will kiss you, suck on every inch of you..” Petyr took his finger and placed the tip on a drop of water that was dripping down the side of her neck. He smudged it along her porcelain skin as her chest heaved. His finger made its way to her cleavage and lingered there. “I will fuck you till you are screaming my name and your voice is hoarse. I will have you flying so high that even after you are married to that Imp, you will continue crawling back into my bed. And when we leave King's Landing together, because I will always keep my promises to you, our affair last even then.” Petyr leaned in and kissed her forcefully. Sansa fell into his embrace easily even though she fumbled around, unsure as to where to put her hand until he broke away. “Now sit.”
Sansa nodded and sat down in the chair in a daze. Her hands went to her lips as they tingled. She heard Petyr calling a name when the door opened. Soon two women, one of them being the woman who let her into the brothel, made their way toward the sofa. They stood side by side and Petyr stood behind Sansa. He placed his hands on her shoulders and Sansa tensed slightly.
“My Lady here wants an education. I want you to show her what it came be like for women in bed. She has some unfortunate expectations and I want you to alleviate them. Jemma, you're on top. Ros, well, please me.” They nodded and the darker haired woman, Jemma, undid Ros's dress. It pooled on the floor and Sansa looked at Ros's naked form. She was curvier than Sansa. She had wider hips and fuller breasts. Jemma Ros by the hand and laid her on the sofa.
Petyr never said a word but began to massage Sansa's shoulders. She whimpered but kept her eyes locked on the two prostitutes on the sofa. Jemma, still clothed, crawled up Ros's form. She leaned down and kissed Ros just as Petyr had kissed Sansa mere moments before. She watched as Ros's leg made its way up the side of Jemma's silk covered one. Jemma soon broke away from her partner's lips and began sucking on her neck. Her hand trailed down the curves of the other prostitute until she was massaging her breast. Petyr's pressure increased causing Sansa to shift in her seat.
“Look how she arches against her. She is enjoying it, savoring it.” Ros did indeed arch, with her head tossed back and a moan escaping from her lips. Jemma's lips unlatched themselves from her neck and went down to the neglected breasts. She bit down on the nipple causing Ros to cry out. Jemma's hand traveled down her partners stomach towards the mound between her legs. Ros spread her legs farther apart and her back arched even further. Sansa couldn't see from this angle but it appeared as though Jemma stuck her fingers inside of Ros.
Ros cried out louder and her hands went toward the pillow behind her, gripping it tightly. Her hips bucked and Sansa could see a rhythm emerging. Petyr's tempo began to match the rhythm of the act being done in front of them. Sansa couldn't help but allow her hips to begin a rhythm of her own as she crossed her legs. There was an ache between her legs that was completely foreign to her. Petyr chuckled but Sansa didn't care, all she wanted was some kind of relief. Soon, Ros screamed loudly and appeared as though some kind of spasm echoing down her body. Petyr coughed and the two women broke apart.
“Thank you ladies, you may go now.” Jemma left without giving Ros a second glance. Ros bent down and slipped her dress back on and then followed Jemma. Soon, Petyr and Sansa were left alone. Sansa was panting and the ache still present between her legs. Petyr leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. His hand slid down her chest and squeezed her clothed breast. “Did you see the ecstasy the fell over her? How she screamed and withered against Jemma? Do you want to feel that?” Sansa nodded, unable to speak because there was fire flowing through her veins. “Good. Then stand.”
Sansa did as she was told and stood. Petyr moved around the chair and took Sansa's hand. He kissed the back of her hand and then the inside of her wrist. Slowly, his lips went up her arm and then to her shoulder. He pulled her against his chest and kissed her passionately for the second time since she entered that room. She could feel a bulge inside the trousers Petyr was wearing and as on instinct, Sansa's hips bucked toward him. Petyr pulled away and took her hand, leading her toward the sofa. He didn't sit her down but instead turned her around. Slowly, Petyr began to pull the strings of the corset. She could feel the garment loosen and fall away. It hit the ground and the underskirt followed shortly there after. The air was cool but it was appeasing to her enflamed body. She was far to aroused to even feel any amount of modesty that she was educated with. Petyr turned her around, taking in her full naked body.
He looked at her as though he was appraising her. He placed his hand on her breast, squeezing the nipple and caused her to moan. He began to massage her breast and put his other hand on the small of her back. Her naked body was then pulled her to him. His hand continued to massage her breast while his lips sucked on her neck. His teeth nipped, sucked and pulled. His nails dug into her skin but the pain made the dull pleasure more heightened. Far to soon, Petyr stepped away from her but placed his hands on her shoulders.
“What was it that you said? A man would lead his bride to the bed and lay her upon it? Or something similar? Well then Sweetling, lie down.” Once again, Sansa laid down upon the sofa. Her head rested against the pillow and her red hair sprayed across the silk pillow cover. She watched as Petyr slowly took off the silver mockingbird pin he was wearing along with the dull brown coat he was wearing. The silk tunic followed as did his trousers and shoes. Soon he was completely naked before her and Sansa sucked in a breath. She took in his lean figure and it was far different than she expected. His body wasn't as old as she would have thought but instead younger. There was a long scar going down to his navel and a big appendage between his legs. She didn't have time to fully admire him because he soon crawled over her naked body. “Did you see where Jemma put her hands?” Sansa shook her head. “Well then, let me show you.”
He placed his hand underneath her breast, tracing the curve before dragging it down her skin. His touches were light and almost ticklish. She laughed lightly and caused Petyr chuckled along with her. His eyes poured into her light blue eyes. He bent down and kissed her again while his fingers dipped lower. As their tongues danced his hands reached her pubic hair and Sansa eagerly spread her legs. Sansa cried out into his mouth when his digits started to circle her nub. She bucked against him but his free hand held down her hips. Soon he inserted his finger inside of her and then another.
“Lord Baelish!”
“Call me Petyr.” His fingers began to thrust in and out of her. Her thumb circled her nub while he continued to fuck her with his fingers. She tried to arch but his hand was still holding her down. She cried out his name, repeating it as a mantra. The louder she yelled, the faster he moved his fingers. Soon she felt a burst go through her and she felt like she was flying. Petyr pulled his fingers out of her and he put his hips between her legs. As she came down from her height, she felt him trace the appendage she had seen earlier along her folds. “This will be a slight discomfort but just look at me.”
Sansa listened to him and she gazed directly into his eyes. She felt him align himself with her and he pushed inside of her. She clenched up slightly and he stopped. His hand went to her hip and began to massage it. Soon she loosened up and he pushed in fully. There was a sharp pinch and Sansa hissed. He remained still but brought his finger back to her nub. He circled it slowly and soon the awkward feeling of her being so full became more pleasant. When he noticed that she was more relaxed, Petyr pulled out slightly and then pushed back it.
She whimpered but it was not in pain. He was slow and careful but when Sansa raised her hips he started to move faster. They started a rhythm but she allowed him to have control. She was disorganized, following his lead but the pleasure he was giving her was far more than she experienced. She was crying out his name and other illogical words as he began to thrust into her fast and faster. His hot breath was on her neck as he was completely losing control inside her, fucking her harder. Soon she fell over the edge again and Petyr froze on top of her. She felt a wet heat spill inside of her. He rested his forehead against hers and once he caught his breath, he pulled away; slipping out of her.
He stood from the sofa and began to dress as Sansa simply laid there, feeling completely numb. Her body was far more relaxed than it ever had been and the only thought she had was when she could experience that again. The entire act ran through her mind again and a sudden fear crept inside of her. She sat up quickly and winced; the ache that had been between her legs turned into a slight soreness.
“You spilled yourself inside of me! What if I'm with child now?” She began to panic. Petyr, now dressed, sat down beside her. He looked at her with a smirk as though he was proud at the thought of her being pregnant with his child. She had the desire to smack him. What would Joffrey do to her if she learned the child she carried was not Tyrion's? She knew that there were ways to prevent pregnancy but once the seed was spilled, Sansa was unclear if it could be stopped now.
“Sansa, you're just now concerned?” He chuckled and Sansa huffed. Petyr bent down and picked up her skirt before handing it to her. She grabbed it out of his hand roughly and began dressing. She was far too annoyed to be modest and she knew that he had seen far more of her that being embarrassed would be pointless now. Petyr picked up the corset and assisted her with dressing it. “Sweetling, you are to be married in less than two weeks. If you are with child, pass the child off as Tyrion's. I'm certain that I will father at least one of your children, if not all of them.”
“What?”
“I wasn't fooling around before.” He tightened the corset and Sansa allowed his to trace small patches of skin on the back of her skin. “You allowed me to have you once and now I've developed a taste. Be honest Sweetling, can you stay away from me now, after what you just experienced?” Sansa didn't reply but she knew it answered his question. “I'm certain this affair will be extremely beneficial to us both and once we leave King's Landing behind, the father of that child you may or may not be carrying will be irrelevant.”
“So we are leaving soon?”
“Very soon.”
Sansa nodded, relief filling her again. Once her corset was done completely she moved away from him. She picked up her dress and slipped her arms into the sleeves. She wrapped the dress around her middle and fastened the pins. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw that her hair was dried and wavy. She ran her fingers through the red locks, hoping to tame it slightly. She saw a bruise on her neck and realized what it was from. She slapped her hands on top of it and turned, giving Petyr a wild and frantic look. Petyr smirked at her, again appearing very proud at his work.
“You might want to wear dresses with high neck lines or scarves.” Petyr placed his hands on her hips and drew her in for a kiss. She went willingly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She was a quick learner and kissing him was easier and more enjoyable. Once the broke apart, Petyr kissed her forehead. “Now, I am going to have you escorted back to the Red Keep, discreetly. No one will know you were gone. Then tonight, I will find my way into your bed and every night that follows until your wedding night.”
“Every night?”
“Of course. Now this is very important, so listen very carefully.” Sansa nodded. “As much as I dislike the thought of you being with another man after I've had you, but it is important that you allow Tyrion to bed you on your wedding night. It only has to be once and it may not be pleasant. Although from what the girls here say, he isn't a bad lover.” Sansa huffed and shuddered. She didn't want Tyrion in her bed. “You have to be his legal wife but I promise, your marriage won't be long.”
“What are you saying?”
“I'm saying there are many ways out of situations like this.” Sansa nodded, not wanting to go into more detail. She figured that it had something to do with their plan to leave King's Landing. He leaned in and kissed her again. “Now, will you do your part and bed Tyrion? If you want you can crawl into mine after and I'm sure I will make you forget him.”
“I will do my part. I promise.”