[ something shifts in her eyes as he speaks of talking his way out of things, her mind flashing back to King's Landing, the times she managed to get Joffrey shift his decisions; to the Eyrie, her voice teary and wavering as she convinced the lords and ladies it had not been Lord Baelish who killed her aunt.
then, wryly, ] I've found talking has been the only weapon I have been allowed to have. [ at least until Ramsay. she may not have wielded a weapon herself, but she was the cause of his death. she was the cause of many deaths, even if the army of the Vale rode into battle and not her. ]
[ he doesn't know much about her world, but from what he can gather, it didn't seem all that different from Earth's own middle ages. and being a woman still wasn't the easiest thing as far as the twentieth century was concerned.
but he'd known plenty of women who could fight back. a silent sniper. a charm agent who could play perfectly innocent one minute, and kill you the next. his own mother. ]
But just remember that if no one ever expects anything else from you, then you'll always be able to outmaneuver your opponent.
[ of course, pure skill doesn't help either. but he's got to give her something to look forward to. ]
[ for a moment, she wonders what kind of world he comes from, what kind of a position women had, there. then she thinks of Arya, the Arya that had woken up here, looked at her with eyes far older than she remembers, her steps those of a trained killer.
perhaps in this... she has something to learn from her sister, for once.
but then he speaks again, and she hears Lord Baelish in his words, forces herself to breathe out, forcing the breath out of her lungs. ]
... yes. The element of surprise. Using their preconceptions against them. I know. [ she may have been slow to learn... but, oh, she had learned. ]
[ he can't help but raise an eyebrow at her statement. or rather, her reaction to it. ]
Something that someone else told you?
[ now, of course, he's a little curious. but, he's hardly going to force the issue if she doesn't want to share. there'd be no use in that after all. ]
Lord Petyr Baelish. My uncle through marriage. I learned a great deal from him. [ and yet, her voice carries no trace of fondness as one might expect, or gratitude. ]
[ he considers carefully what he's going to say to her, as he studies her face. ]
I'm going to take a wild guess and say he wasn't the best uncle.
[ Ocelot, of course, has no illusions about what sort of person he is. but he does genuinely like Sansa. she has a strength to her that's definitely admirable. ]
[ her gaze is fixed on him as she says, flat and fact-like, like she were discussing of the weather, ]
He wanted to overthrow the king, and rule the Seven Kingdoms... with me by his side. Everything he did was to further that goal.
[ she falls silent for a moment before continuing. ] He made me marry Ramsay Bolton. But he also helped me take Winterfell back from the Boltons.
[ but then, she seems to realize what she is saying, and to whom — softly, she shakes her head, and the smile she directs at him this time is a more genuine one. ] Don't worry. I doubt you want to rule this land and marry me. Which already makes you far better than him.
[ he observes her, though he can't help but smile at her last suggestion. ]
You're right about that. Even if I were the marrying type, you're probably young enough to be my daughter, and even then, I've never been much for the idea of ruling anyone. Once you get that sort of power, all you'd do is just try and maintain it.
[ that was actually the truth. he'd never really wanted to rule anything, despite his success at manipulating others. no, all he'd ever really done was in service to a higher ideal.
(well that, and a man he happened to care about deeply) ]
But I do have to ask. Who is "Ramsay Bolton"? You don't have to answer if you don't want to.
[ after all, she'd already shared quite a bit of information with him, hadn't she? ]
[ the look she gives him then, at the declaration of not wanting any sort of power at all, is nothing but a small smile, yet there's relief and gratitude unlike anything else hidden in it — at least in that, she will not have to fear him trying to use her.
the smile disappears, though, when he asks her about Ramsay. ]
... he's a monster. [ her voice is quiet, flat, the kind of voice that strives to be without emotion but ends up being frosty, colder than winter. ] His father killed my mother and brother. He flayed an old woman alive just for trying to help me. He killed my little brother. [ however, any mention of what he did to her is strangely absent — because the more people know of Ramsay, the more people she can turn against him, the better. and yet... speaking of the things she had endured will only make others pity her.
[ he can tell that the question struck a nerve. nevertheless, he knows that look. pure hatred. he's seen it directed his way more than a few times, and he's directed it at others.
he thinks briefly of the man that raised him, and the horrors he subjected on most others. he thinks of Skull Face, and what he'd done to a girl around her age.
...he knows the type. some might call him the same as them, but that was just one of the many masks he wore. there was little point to needless violence, after all. ]
...Is he here? [ no. ] Is he awake?
[ but if he was, it wouldn't be his revenge to take. ]
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no subject
then, wryly, ] I've found talking has been the only weapon I have been allowed to have. [ at least until Ramsay. she may not have wielded a weapon herself, but she was the cause of his death. she was the cause of many deaths, even if the army of the Vale rode into battle and not her. ]
But I like the sound of fighting back.
no subject
[ he doesn't know much about her world, but from what he can gather, it didn't seem all that different from Earth's own middle ages. and being a woman still wasn't the easiest thing as far as the twentieth century was concerned.
but he'd known plenty of women who could fight back. a silent sniper. a charm agent who could play perfectly innocent one minute, and kill you the next. his own mother. ]
But just remember that if no one ever expects anything else from you, then you'll always be able to outmaneuver your opponent.
[ of course, pure skill doesn't help either. but he's got to give her something to look forward to. ]
no subject
perhaps in this... she has something to learn from her sister, for once.
but then he speaks again, and she hears Lord Baelish in his words, forces herself to breathe out, forcing the breath out of her lungs. ]
... yes. The element of surprise. Using their preconceptions against them. I know. [ she may have been slow to learn... but, oh, she had learned. ]
no subject
Something that someone else told you?
[ now, of course, he's a little curious. but, he's hardly going to force the issue if she doesn't want to share. there'd be no use in that after all. ]
no subject
Lord Petyr Baelish. My uncle through marriage. I learned a great deal from him. [ and yet, her voice carries no trace of fondness as one might expect, or gratitude. ]
no subject
I'm going to take a wild guess and say he wasn't the best uncle.
[ Ocelot, of course, has no illusions about what sort of person he is. but he does genuinely like Sansa. she has a strength to her that's definitely admirable. ]
no subject
He wanted to overthrow the king, and rule the Seven Kingdoms... with me by his side. Everything he did was to further that goal.
[ she falls silent for a moment before continuing. ] He made me marry Ramsay Bolton. But he also helped me take Winterfell back from the Boltons.
[ but then, she seems to realize what she is saying, and to whom — softly, she shakes her head, and the smile she directs at him this time is a more genuine one. ] Don't worry. I doubt you want to rule this land and marry me. Which already makes you far better than him.
no subject
You're right about that. Even if I were the marrying type, you're probably young enough to be my daughter, and even then, I've never been much for the idea of ruling anyone. Once you get that sort of power, all you'd do is just try and maintain it.
[ that was actually the truth. he'd never really wanted to rule anything, despite his success at manipulating others. no, all he'd ever really done was in service to a higher ideal.
(well that, and a man he happened to care about deeply) ]
But I do have to ask. Who is "Ramsay Bolton"? You don't have to answer if you don't want to.
[ after all, she'd already shared quite a bit of information with him, hadn't she? ]
no subject
the smile disappears, though, when he asks her about Ramsay. ]
... he's a monster. [ her voice is quiet, flat, the kind of voice that strives to be without emotion but ends up being frosty, colder than winter. ] His father killed my mother and brother. He flayed an old woman alive just for trying to help me. He killed my little brother. [ however, any mention of what he did to her is strangely absent — because the more people know of Ramsay, the more people she can turn against him, the better. and yet... speaking of the things she had endured will only make others pity her.
she doesn't want their pity. ]
no subject
he thinks briefly of the man that raised him, and the horrors he subjected on most others. he thinks of Skull Face, and what he'd done to a girl around her age.
...he knows the type. some might call him the same as them, but that was just one of the many masks he wore. there was little point to needless violence, after all. ]
...Is he here? [ no. ] Is he awake?
[ but if he was, it wouldn't be his revenge to take. ]