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Laughter is coming (a Game of Thrones story) m/f, part 1

Interstellar

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Joined
May 24, 2017
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16
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[SPOILERS FOR GAME OF THRONES SEASON 6]


Laughter is coming

Night had fallen over Winterfell several hours ago, yet Sansa didn’t sleep. How could she? For the first time in years she was home. She still couldn’t believe it. In fact, she was too scared to fall asleep, fearing that she would wake up the next day only to discover it to have been a dream after all. So instead she just sat there, taking it all in.

That’s when she noticed the sound of steps outside of her door. Seconds later a man she didn’t know entered the room. In his hand he carried a torch, which casted half of his face in a dramatic shadow.

“Who are you, what are you doing here?” Sansa asked in a demanding tone. An assassin sent by the Boltons?

The man just gave her a suspicious smile, as if he knew a secret, and simply answered with a cold voice: “The lord wants to see you”.

Sansa let her guard down. “Jon wants to see me?” she asked hopefully as she let out a relieved sigh.

The man didn’t answer, instead he just chuckled and left the room implying that he wanted her to follow. As he didn’t give her any time to prepare she had to run out after him in only her nightgown and slippers, with her long red hair in a mess.

As they made their way through the castle, she repeatedly asked the man what Jon wanted to see her for in the middle of the night, but the man kept his mouth shut. After what felt like an eternity, the man finally stopped in front of a large wooden door. He gave a slight nod in the doors’ direction.

“This is where I leave you, the lord’s through there”. He gave her a final chuckle before turning back, leaving her in complete darkness.

For a minute Sansa just stood there, before finally forcing the heavy door open. Inside was yet another long corridor, this one lit up by evenly spaced torches attached to the wall. She followed them into a small dark room.

“Hello? Jon?” She said when the door suddenly shut behind her.

“Expecting someone else?” A voice called out behind her. Sansa turned around, facing the man.

“Littlefinger, what do you want?” she asked in a snarky and disappointed tone.

“That’s Lord Baelish to you.” Littlefinger answered, clearly a bit annoyed by her ignoring his title. “And as for what I want, I simply want to help you.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Help me? Lord Baelish, I’m not sure you’re aware but we won today. Winterfell is ours. I won’t need your help anymore.”

Baelish started to giggle. “So young, so naïve.” He shook his head. “You’ve won a battle, yes! An intoxicating achievement, but let’s not confuse it with winning the war. Because the war is very much alive, my dear. And you’ve just become one of it’s best players, which the record shows isn’t very good for your health. So I beg to differ; you’ve never needed my help more than you do now.”

Sansa hated to admit it, but his logic made sense. If she didn’t keep her head in the game it could soon very likely roll across a floor instead.

“Then what do you propose?” She asked him.

Baelish smiled. “Come with me”.

They walked into the next room. It was empty except for a strange wooden chair with all sorts of straps attached to it. Sansa had never seen anything like it, and she started to become nervous.

“What is that thing?”

“Hush, my dear, and do as I say. Take a seat.”

Sansa did as she was told, all be it reluctantly. Baelish then opened what looked like stocks used for peasant thieves, except these were attached to the bottom of the chair.

“Put your feet in the holes!”

Again, she did as he asked. And as the heavy top half closed around her ankles, and the stocks were completely locked in place, she could feel her heart start beating faster. She was now completely at his mercy, without the ability to leave until it pleased him. Baelish then continued by strapping her arms to two pieces of wood at her sides, leaving her in an almost crucified position.

As Baelish took a step back to take in the sight, Sansa started to try her bonds; pulling and pushing with everything she had, but it was useless. Neither the stocks or the straps moved an inch. She also started to feel exposed, as she was basically dressed in only a thin piece of cloth.

“Baelish! I demand you to tell me the meaning of this!”

The lord just observed her in silence for a while before answering:

“Well, as a person of such high importance, chances are that you’ll be taken prisoner by the enemy rather then killed. Do you know why?”

Sansa couldn’t say that she did. Truth to be told she probably did know, but her current situation made it hard for her to focus her thoughts, so she just shook her head. Baelish slowly made his way towards her, and finally put a finger to her forehead.

“Because all the information you’ve got in there, is too valuable to simply cut off with an axe. No, if the enemy got their hands on you, they’d torture you until you’ve even told them your grandmother's maiden name. Therefor I’ve conducted this…training exercise, as a way for you to hone your skills of keeping your mouth shut.”

Sansa started to become even more nervous.

“Are you going to torture me? Is that it? Are you mad! My brother will come and he’ll…”

“Oh but he won’t. In fact, no one will. This is the most soundproof room in all of Winterfell, so please; scream your lungs out if it keeps you from giving in. Now shall we begin?”

Now Sansa was in a true state of panic. What horrible things would he do to her? She desperately tried to escape, but failed yet again. In the meantime, Baelish had made his way to the stocks.

“Do you mind if I borrow these?” he asked. And with a swift motion, Sansa could feel how her slippers were removed from her feet. What’s going on?

Baelish grinned “Well look at those beauties. You truly have your mother’s soles. Now let’s see just how far the resemblance goes.”

And with that he dragged a finger across Sansa’s left arch, causing her to jerk in her seat.

“Wait, what are you going to do?” It can’t be.

“Looks like someone’s ticklish.”

Sansa started to struggle hard in the chair. “Baelish, no! Not that, release me now!”

“Oh but the fun has only just started my dear.” He said as he started to slowly spider tickle both of the redhead’s helpless soles.

“Hehehe nooo pleaseeee!”

The tickling continued for a minute or so, before Baelish gave her a break.

“Good, the soles seem sensitive enough. Now let’s see how those bare knees respond.” And with expert-like precision, he started squeezing the young ladies knees, causing her to struggle like a madwoman.

“Hahahahahaa!! Whyyyy are you so good at thiiiis?”

“Oh you see, as the owner of a brothel in King’s Landning, you have to be certain that you’re not surrounded by girls who easily give up information under stress.” He answered as his spidery fingers slowly made their way into lady Starks’ thighs.

“HAHAHAHAHAAH NOOOOOOOO!!!” Sansa could already feel tears forming in her eyes. Oh please old gods, or new, or whoever the fuck is listening, make this stop.

Baelish continued tickling Sansa’s thighs for three minutes straight before stopping. “Looks like this will be a fun night. Now, let’s begin your training.”
 
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