(3rd Person POV)
A sennight has passed since the young Stark girl arrived at Petyr's door to ask for help. Arla was the one who wore her defences down slowly and eventually introduced her to some things first, giving her time to adapt to the change gradually. The change was, of course, someone who was not trying to harm her or abuse her in any way. A rare commodity, as it turned out.
Arla hated this world. She hated the hypocrisy and backstabbing and all the other slimy snakes who crawled around everywhere. She was not new to this type of thing, but in the Star Wars galaxy, she could put her foot down, and strength was all that mattered. Here, it was all about money and birth. The money she understood, but birth? She thought that was a ridiculous notion.
Petyr taught her differently, fitting for a Mandalorian in a galaxy far away. But now, she was overqualified, and Petyr knew that they would leave again soon. But he wanted to accomplish certain things first, and Sansa Stark was at the top of that list. So, he started slowly and used Arla to help him gain the naive girl's trust, which worked wonders. Joffrey was more than alright with Petyr teaching the young girl after he told the child he would teach him the true secrets needed to rule.
Imagine the king asking you to teach him... that was like allowing the thunderstorm into your two-by-two closet, in Petyr's case. Joffrey was asking to be manipulated.
.
Petyr and Sansa were walking with her through the Red Keep when Cersei Lannister arrived with her guards.
"Lord Baelish," the sound of the Queen Mother's voice alerted and unnerved Sansa.
Petyr noticed and made a mental note to tell her later. This had to go quickly.
"Your Grace," Petyr answers.
"I wonder if I might ask you for a favour."
"Certainly, Your Grace. It never hurts to ask."
"Ned Stark's youngest daughter, Arya - we can't seem to locate her," Cersei says.
"Winterfell seems the logical destination if she escaped the capital," Petyr tells her.
Cersei walked beside Petyr. Before Sansa could drop back, Petyr gently touched her arm, preventing her from doing so.
"And yet my friends in the North report no sign of her."
"Curious. Then I suppose your friends have changed their allegiances, or the little wolf is not in the North."
"I can assure you, my friends are MY friends," Cersei assured him.
"Then the second option must be true, your Grace."
"If we choose to negotiate with the Starks, the girl has some value. Whoever finds her - well, you know what they say about Lannisters and debts."
"Indeed. Well, you could ask Varys where she is. He'll have an answer for you. Whether you believe it ... well ... I always thought that his honesty left when his scrotum did."
"Are you so distrusting of the Master of Whispers, Lord Baelish? How unprofessional of a fellow member of the Small Council," Cersei jested.
"There is only one way to see, and that is through the knowledge of one's own eyes."
Cersei chuckled, hearing Petyr say those words, and touched the small brooch on his shirt. She looked him in the eyes, seeing no reaction from him.
"A sword stuck inside a diamond and a floating crown above it ... You created your own sigil, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Appropriate ... for a self-made man with so many different skills and rumours about him. Is the crown there for ... decoration? Or is that a goal?"
"Every man skilled at what he does can be a king in his respective field. I merely remind others about the said fact. I hope you don't believe me to be more ambitious than I am in reality. I don't believe in fairytales," Petyr waved her off.
"But you do write some, don't you?" she asked.
"I am not sure what you mean."
"I heard a song once about a lowborn with nothing to his name but a small tower, shamed and sent back home, only to then suddenly be successful and grow to become the most famous merchant in the 7 Kingdoms. That's a fairytale, is it not?"
"Some people are fortunate enough to be born into the right family, others have to find their way, and some have to do both."
Cersei nodded her head, understanding that she was meant with the last part.
"I heard the song went further. The boy of modest means found his way into the home of a very prominent family. He loved the eldest daughter. Sadly, she had eyes for another. And now ... how ironic ... you are teaching her eldest daughter."
Cersei was still trying to get a reaction out of Petyr, not believing him to be as perfect as he made it seem. She was infatuated and a loon, so naturally, the entire world revolved around her.
"Not quite. The father was the one having eyes for another. The daughter followed dutifully. But I'm sure the boy is happier now ... I heard married life can be a dreadful pain ... would you agree with such statements?" Petyr shot back, looking at Cersei with the same smile he always wore. But now it felt insinuating, and that's what he wanted.
"..."
"But let us not delve into such things; it might be awkward. Living so close together can give rise to some 'awkward' situations, I'm sure. I've even heard of brothers and sisters becoming quite... close and developing certain ... affections. And when these affections become common knowledge, well, that would be an awkward situation indeed," Petyr added another layer on top.
"..."
"Prominent families often forget a simple truth," Petyr was no longer talking to Cersei but to Sansa.
"And which truth is that?"
"Knowledge is power."
Cersei nodded her head in thought and then addressed her guards.
"Seize him," she commanded.
The guards did as she commanded and grabbed Petyr, pushing Sansa to the side.
"Cut his throat," Cersei commanded.
Sansa gasped and felt her knees grow weak as the guards took out their knives and held them at Petyr's throat. Petyr didn't change his expression in the slightest, though, and smiled at Cersei.
"Stop. Wait ... I changed my mind. Let him go. Step back three paces. Turn around. Close your eyes."
Cersei smiled and walked closer to him.
"Power is power."
"Ah, how poetic. Excellent use of pleonasm, and yet you are missing the point," Petyr said, still smiling.
"I think we just established that it is you who are missing the point."
"It seems I have to get more precise. It would seem you weren't taught when to stop."
"I could have you killed right here, as we have just seen, and no one would do anything about it. No matter how you twist and turn it, I have real, tangible power."
"You mean, you could have your 'men' kill me right now, which you won't do because you want something from me. Again, I should be more specific. You hold power because of authority, and you hold this authority by association only. I have power because of what I know. Knowledge is power, IF you know how to use it. Your actions just proved my point. If you didn't need me because of my knowledge, you would have had me killed just now... but you didn't. I suppose your father also played a part."
Petyr bowed his head slightly and motioned for Sansa to follow him, starting to walk away but stopped. He turned around once more and looked at Cersei.
"You should also come to one of my lessons. It might do some good. Let's go, Sansa."
.
"Wh-what, what was that ... just now?" Sansa asked after they reached the Master of Coin's room, where Arla was waiting for them.
"Hm? Oh, that was a power-measuring contest. The Queen has something to prove to herself and all others because she didn't get the love from her father she thought she deserved."
Petyr took some documents and started to go through them.
"But y-you were so calm. I was so ..."
"Scared? Yes, we noticed. Why though? You weren't in any danger."
"Petyr," Arla chastised him gently.
"It was the same as back then ... when my father ... when Joffrey ordered to cut off my father's head."
Petyr stopped what he's doing and turned around to look at Arla. She nodded her head. Petyr was surprised that he had risen in her eyes to such a degree that she would feel the same as when her father was killed.
"I apologise that you feel that way, but despite what happened, you need to know these things. That's what life at Court is like. Most people could die at any time, and nothing can be done about it. And while this might seem cruel, this wasn't the first time I was threatened with death, and it will most definitely not be the last. Listen, Sansa, Arla and I have been trying to teach you how the world around you works away from the halls of Winterfell. And while your father was an honourable man who told the truth, it was the reality of life down here in the South combined with his naivety that killed him."
"... I hope ... he is at a better place now. Somewhere, where there is no backstabbing and killing and r*ping ..."
"Life is cruel. Why should the afterlife be any different?" Petyr said.
"But--"
"That might not have been the best way to put it, is it Petyr?" Arla asked.
"Listen. You are faced with a choice. You either break down in the face of this cruelty, or you grow stronger and adapt. To survive, you must learn."
(Petyr started looking at the documents. Sansa brushed away her tears and looked at Arla, then at Petyr's back. She thought about his words for a while and how he had been helping her. Arla and he told her the truth about King's Landing and politics, and he had warned her repeatedly. She began to realise her naivety and decided to change immediately. She took a deep breath and stood up.
"Lord Baelish, I would like to learn. Please explain to me what happened with the Queen and why she almost killed you."
Petyr turned around and saw her change of heart. He looked at Arla and then noded his head and smiled lightly.
"Good. As you already know, Cersei holds a position of authority in King's Landing. What exactly is her position?"
"She's the Queen and mother of Joffrey, the rightful ruler of--"
"Alright, let me stop you there. We are learning here, and while I admire your attempts, you don't come across as natural enough to convey this effectively. We will work on that later. Coming back to Cersei. She is the Queen Mother and nothing more. Now, that does give her some authority and 'power' if you will, but not in the way one might think at first."
"In what way, then?"
"She holds some sway over the moods of Joffrey and can whisper ideas into his head. But, ever since Robert Baratheon's death and his coronation, Joffrey has grown increasingly unhinged. In a few months, he will do whatever he wishes, and she will have no say in the matter. Do you understand?"
"Yes. So, she will no longer hold any power in a few months?"
"Yes and no."
"What do you mean?"
"Cersei is not only the former Queen and current Queen Mother, she is also a Lannister and daughter of Tywin Lannister. Tywin Lannister is the 'Hand of the King', at least as soon as he returns from the war. And when he returns, he will hold the most power."
"... But what about Joffrey?"
"A crown is an accessory, more useless than a kitchen knife and doesn't make someone king; the idea behind the crown does, and Joffrey has nothing that convinces the people to be king other than his tantrums."
"So what does this have to do with why you were almost killed?"
"Right. You see, Cersei wanted me to find your sister, Arya, for her. Or at least use my connections to find her. She told me that I was a lowborn nobody who managed to get lucky and work his way up. You see, I will never have a Lordly name, like Lannister or Stark, despite my wealth. I then told her that some have to work hard to get where they are, unlike her, who was born with a golden spoon in her mouth."
"So what was that about that woman she was talking about?"
"Yes, that woman is your mother, Lady Catelyn."
"My... mother?"
"Indeed. When I was 14, I was deeply in love with your mother, but as Cersei said, I was of too low birth to ever have a chance to marry her. Then there was the fact that I was small and weak at the time; your mother didn't reciprocate my feelings. Your grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully, betrothed your mother to Brandon Stark. Unlike me, he was a strong and tall man and rather good-looking. The young Petyr, in his stupidity, thought that he could win your mother's favour if he challenged Brandon in a duel."
"..."
"As you can imagine, the weak and pathetic little Petyr was thoroughly humiliated. But ... he refused to give up and take up Brandon Stark on his offer of mercy."
"What happened?"
"I almost died. When I woke, though ... I was sent away from Riverrun by Hoster Tully for embarrassing him and bringing shame to his House. I had nothing, no coin, no family, almost no land and only a small pathetic tower to call my 'castle'."
"That's ... terrible. How could you get to the point you are, then? How did you become the Prince of Merchants?"
"Prince of Merchants? I haven't heard that one yet. Well, I don't want to go into much detail for now, but I realised the truth of this world. I would never get anything from anyone. If I wanted to have something, I had to work for it, which is what I did. Let us postpone the boring story of my life for now and get back to the matter at hand. Cersei was reminding me of this fact and tried to make fun of me. Little did she know, I no longer hold any feelings for your mother and am actually glad things turned out the way they did."
"You are? Why?"
"Because I am what I made myself. This is my accomplishment ... well, partially. I suppose I got lucky as well. Let's not get into this. And besides, I wouldn't have ever met Arla here if it weren't for it."
"So then, why did her Grace threaten you with death?"
"Because I told her that I know about Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella being bastards of her and her brother Jaime."
"..."
Sansa looked at Petyr like a gaping fish. She couldn't understand or process what he had just told her.
"Let us ignore all the other details. The point you miss is that the hierarchical power structure gets more nebulous as one gets higher. Those who wield swords at the bottom have the most tangible power, whereas those at the top, like high lords, kings or Queens, are there because men with swords believe they're there. It is a system based on trust and belief. You believe you control this hierarchy when, in reality, you are just another nebulous piece of it all. And that's how politics work."
"..."
"Well, at least partially. It is a bit more complicated than that, but that would be too much, I think."
"..."
"Dinner?"
"That would be lovely," Arla said.
__________________________________
Sorry about the delay; it has become hard for me to keep up the pace. I still hope you can enjoy it somewhat. I'm afraid I have far too many ideas about his travels, that we will stay in ASOIAF for that much longer. But I'll try to make it interesting.