Loki: Game of Thrones

Chapter 99 - Sansa Infiltrates

Sansa was pissed the next day as she applied her Sif disguise and left the portis satis tuto. She wanted to make love to Loki that morning before he left, but she remembered her promise. She had kept her clothes on and her legs closed. Loki had kissed her before he departed, but he had also kept his trousers on. Sansa had changed her garments, shifted into Sif's form, and made her way to Baelish's pleasure houses. The men in the streets whistled when they saw Sansa go by wearing her façade. It almost irked her that they thought Sif was pretty. Not because it really had anything to do with her, but because she knew that Sif had hurt Loki. Anybody who hurt Loki deserved to have their tendons severed. Sansa stiffened right before she knocked on the door. Was she really thinking of revenge along those lines? Instead of scratching her eyes out or slapping her silly, she was going to hamstring her. Sansa snickered as she thought how proud Loki would be of her. Upon her knock, the cook opened the door. "Good morning, ser. I was told by one of the other servants that you were in need of some back of the house help," Sansa said, batting her eyelashes and pushing her one hip out. The cook's eyes raked over her curves, lingering over her breasts. Sansa did not mind so much, as it was not her real body he was appraising like a piece of meat at the market.

"Aye. I could use the help," the cook said. He waved her in and Sansa stepped into the house. "You can serve the delicacies to the patrons, and make sure that the wine never runs out. You'll also be expected to clean the linens," the man told her as he led her through the back passages of the whore house. Incense wafted towards her, some of it so strong it challenged Sansa to control her gag reflex. The sounds of love making and the cries of pleasure made her ears burn. She was not embarrassed for herself, but the ladies who were forced to fake their own orgasms if the man failed to please her. Loki never did that. She always achieved her release at least a few seconds before he did. Sansa had to hide her own blush as she thought of their passionate nights together. "Here, take this," the cook said, suddenly shoving bolts of silk cloth into her arms. Sansa almost dropped them, but she was able to smooth them over and smile at him. "Take them to Lord Baelish to be appraised for placement in the rooms," the man ordered and Sansa felt her heart stop. Petyr Baelish?! She could not see Petyr Baelish! She had not mastered the art of attentiveness. If she got nervous, her façade would drop, and Baelish would see her as she really was! Not good!!! But, as she had seen Loki do thousands of times before, she smiled a too sweet smile and nodded her head.

"Very well, where is his office?" she queried. The cook gave her directions and Sansa began to walk. She passed many whores and their clients as she went. Quite frequently, the men would notice her in her Sif disguise and hum in her direction. Sansa avoided them, as well as ignored the whores. It had nothing to do with what they did, or were doing. She had to keep herself calm in order to successfully keep her disguise up. Sansa was not strong enough to deal with pressure and hold a façade. It would take practice before she was as proficient as Loki. Although, all things considered, she was already ahead of most green magicians.

When Sansa finally arrived at Baelish's door, her heart was beating a mile a minute. After taking a moment to compose herself, she knocked. "Enter!" called that smooth voice that sent chills of fear (rather than pleasure) down her spine. Opening the door, she saw Baelish at his desk. Moans made her glance at a large sofa seat against the wall where two women were seducing each other. Sansa felt the sudden urge to vomit but was able to control it. Barely. "Who are you?" Baelish asked, tilting his head to one side and studying Sansa a little too closely. Sansa felt her heart start to race, but she slowed it down.

Remain calm! she told herself and she smiled back. "I am Sif. I'm from the North, and I needed work here in the city," Sansa lied. Baelish looked at her, his eyes flashing up and down. Sansa wanted to whip her knife out and slice his throat open. If not for betraying Loki, than for eye raping her. Baelish finally nodded and signaled for Sansa to spread the cloth out for him to inspect. She began to do as she was told, and the two whores continued their show. Sansa tried to block out the obnoxious sounds they were making, about to snap that it was so much better with a man who loved you entirely. But, Sansa bit her own tongue as she display the silks and satins.

"From where in the North?" Baelish suddenly asked and Sansa glanced at him.

"A small town called Evergreen. It's under Lord Karstark's rule," Sansa said, naming a real village she remembered seeing on her father's tax papers. Baelish shrugged and went back to signing papers. Sansa finished putting out the bolts of cloth and was smoothing them down when she suddenly felt two pairs of hands stroking her back. Spinning around, Sansa reacted. Taking one hand, she twisted it and threw the girl over her shoulder and onto Baelish's desk. Dropping down a second later, she swung her leg out and tripped up the second woman. Glancing around, Sansa saw in a mirror that she still had her Sif guise up. She stood up slowly and eyed Baelish as he remained sitting behind his desk. He was smirking at her.

"Now where did you learn moves like that?" he asked her curiously. Sansa dusted herself up and looked at Baelish firmly in the eyes.

"My father believed in training everyone equally. A woman deserves the right to defend herself just as much as any man," Sansa responded. She shrugged a second later and said, "And men think they have the right to take what's not theirs. I am therefore obligated to protect it." Baelish snickered slightly and waved the two girls away without even sparing another glance in their direction. They both huffed, but left the room. Sansa finished with the cloth and stepped back, waving at them. "They are all laid out for your pleasure, my lord," she told him. Baelish stood up and walked out from behind his desk. He knelt down and examined the fine silks and satins, setting a few aside. As he looked, Sansa quickly looked around. She saw the binder she had always seen him with sitting on his desk. The corners were fraying something fierce, and she figured that he usually kept it on his person. It probably contained state secrets. Sansa had to restrain the smirk that was threatening to grow on her face. State secrets... All the things she and Loki could do together to foul up Joffrey's and Cersei's plans... And that was when she thought of Loki again. And the fact that they were not having sex. Would that mean they would not even talk to each other when he got home that night? They were already like a married couple; all they were missing were the rings and the vows before the high septon. If Loki even wanted to do that. She had read how weddings were performed on Asgard: beneath the bows of a sacred tree, the physical representation of Yggdrasil. Witnesses were present, and a figure of importance to wed the couple. Again, rings and vows were exchanged and a feast followed. However, a bedding ceremony was not required. Sheets would be produced the next day to prove the bride's innocence had been claimed by her husband. Not that she and Loki could actually show that kind of evidence, all things considered...

"I asked you a question," Baelish's voice suddenly cut into her thoughts. Sansa looked back at him and saw him raising his eyebrow at her. She smiled and shook her head.

"Sorry, I was thinking of something. What was your question?" Sansa posed.

"Where did you find this cloth?" Baelish asked, picking up a green bolt of silk, with golden bordering. Horns were sewn into the corners, and what looked like Nordic runes were artfully concealed in the vines. Sansa stiffened upon seeing it, wondering if Loki had something to do with it. He was not one to reveal himself unless he got something out of it. Loki was not one to advance without the surety of gaining ground. So, where did the cloth come from?

"I'm not sure where it came from. The cook just gave them to me and told me to give them to you," Sansa said, and she was speaking the truth.

"Call the cook in immediately," Baelish ordered, and Sansa quickly left to fulfill her task. When the man was brought, Baelish snapped his fingers and pointed to the cloth. "Where did this come from?"

The man scratched his head and shifted his feet nervously before he said, "It arrived in a ship from the slave cities of Mireen, Qarth, and Astapor." Baelish scowled at this and that was when Sansa knew who was manufacturing the cloth. Daenerys Targaryen had undoubtedly had a hand in this!