Chapter 106: Who Can Truly Be Trusted
Sansa immediately understood what her sister Arya meant and said in a flustered voice,
"That's impossible between him and me!"
Arya, of course, didn't think Sansa actually liked Petyr—that old man—but hadn't he already kissed her once?
Arya knew Sansa had always been forced by circumstances: maneuvering between Joffrey, Cersei, and the nobles in King's Landing, and even being compelled to marry the Imp against her will.
So if Petyr were declared innocent and successfully became Lord Protector of the Vale… if he wanted Sansa then, would she really be able to refuse?
And not just Sansa—Arya suspected that even she herself, the little wolf who had walked straight into the Eyrie, might not escape Petyr's grasp.
The image of that old man holding her in his arms sent a chill straight through Arya's spine.
Seeing Arya frown in deep thought, Sansa quickly arrived at the same conclusion. Her face went pale in an instant.
Just as she would one day say of herself: I may have learned slowly—but I did learn.
Realizing that Sansa now understood her fears, Arya continued calmly,
"From the way Lord Yohn treated me, it's not certain the Lords Declarant would refuse to send troops to save Mother and Robb."
"And if they won't," Arya added, "we can win over Robin. He's the Eyrie's lord in name. If he wants to save his aunt, the Lords Declarant won't find it easy to stop him."
Hearing this, Sansa remembered the excitement in Lord Yohn's eyes when he learned she was her father's daughter, and the way Lady Anya had held her and comforted her.
Even if they ultimately refused to send troops, they likely wouldn't harm the two of them.
Then Sansa recalled the words Petyr had spoken after murdering Ser Dontos, the man who had once helped her escape. Any remaining confidence she had in Petyr's willingness to aid her vanished completely.
What replaced it was the familiar terror—the fear of once again being controlled by Petyr, just as she had been in King's Landing.
"Petyr cannot be our savior," Sansa said firmly, imagining the helplessness that would follow if she saved him.
"He can't."
Seeing that her sister Sansa had worked it out on her own—without Arya needing to argue further—Arya was, of course, relieved.
Exposing Petyr would be easy. Sansa only needed to tell the truth, to explain her helplessness when Petyr forced a kiss on her. The Lords Declarant would naturally believe Sansa's testimony rather than trust the despised Littlefinger.
Yet when Sansa thought about Petyr's fate once she accused him, she hesitated. No matter what Petyr's motives had been in bringing her out of King's Landing, the fact remained that he had saved her from that hellish pit.
Seeing Sansa's hesitation, Arya—who had already killed more than one person with Needle—felt no such softness.
Had Joffrey shown mercy when he forced Sansa to look upon their father's head on a spike?
Had the Gold Cloaks shown mercy when they butchered the laborers beside her?
Had the Freys shown mercy at the Red Wedding?
Had Petyr shown mercy when her father was beheaded?
Had he shown mercy when he forced himself on her sister?
None of them had.
If they softened now, Arya was certain that once Petyr became Lord Protector of the Vale, a man infamous as Littlefinger wouldn't even be able to treat the sisters decently—let alone risk angering the Lannisters to save their mother and brother.
Just like the day she fled King's Landing: if she hadn't stabbed the boy who tried to betray her, her fate—and Sansa's—would likely have been the same as it was now, or worse.
"Littlefinger must die," Arya said firmly, gripping Sansa's arm.
Sansa silently nodded. Just like that, the sisters decided Petyr Baelish's fate.
After talking a bit longer, Sansa suddenly remembered that Sandor Clegane—the Hound—had traveled with Arya. She told her that Sandor's brother, Gregor "the Mountain," had been killed by Prince Oberyn in a trial by combat.
Arya already knew Sandor's face had been burned when his brother shoved it into a brazier as a child. She also knew how deeply he hated the Mountain.
Eager to tell him the news, Arya left Sansa's room and went straight to Sandor's quarters.
When someone knocked, Sandor guessed it was Arya. He opened the door, and before he could speak, Arya burst out excitedly,
"Sandor, guess what good news I've brought you!"
"I don't see a coin purse," Sandor replied flatly, glancing at her hands.
"Why do you only ever think about money?" Arya snapped. "I'm telling you—the Mountain is dead!"
"What did you say?" Sandor, who had just turned away, spun back and rushed toward her.
"Hey! You scared me!" Arya took a step back and raised her voice. "I said the Mountain—the one who burned your face—is dead!"
"Dead?" Sandor stared at her. "How could he be dead?"
Even hearing it again, Sandor could hardly believe it. That monstrously strong man—strong enough to tear a bear apart with his bare hands—how could he have been killed?
After a long pause, Sandor finally asked, "How did he die?"
Arya hadn't expected Sandor to seem so shaken—almost as if he wanted revenge.
"He was killed by Prince Oberyn of Dorne during Tyrion's trial by combat."
"Oberyn?" Sandor searched his memory. What he knew amounted only to Oberyn's peerless spearwork and his infamous licentiousness. Even so, it was hard to believe Oberyn could kill the Mountain.
"They say Oberyn had the upper hand at first," Arya explained, "but he got careless and was knocked down—nearly killed. He reacted in time and stabbed the Mountain with a dagger he carried."
Seeing Sandor lost in thought, Arya recounted the entire duel as Sansa had told her.
Only then did Sandor slowly come back to himself.
Deep down, he began to believe that the brother who had burned his face over a toy was truly dead.
Watching Sandor sit heavily on the bed, staring into nothingness, Arya had never seen him like this. She quietly left the room and closed the door behind her.
The next day, the Lords Declarant resumed their interrogation of Petyr.
Arya worried Sansa might be misled by Littlefinger's words and wanted to attend—but she knew it was impossible. Asking outright would only provoke opposition and resentment.
So she could only watch as Sansa and the others entered the chamber once more, waiting anxiously for the outcome.
"Sansa, continue with what you saw that day," Lord Yohn said after the three Lords Declarant took their seats.
Sansa steadied herself, glanced at Petyr sitting against the wall, and spoke timidly:
"That day, Lord Petyr brought me to the great hall. He said he had news about the North… and after he finished speaking, he forced a kiss upon me…"