To epitomize the world in which we live, we must first step back and remember that we are flawed.
But to understand the world in which we live, we must recognize that man realizes just this: the good exploit the flaws and the wicked jeopardize their...
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Sansa Stark walks swiftly and confidently into the room while bearing an expression of great fear for what's beheld before her. And though the council of the three--two lords and a lady of the Vale--ask for her honesty, she's long ago lost that tendency and can only straighten a nod at the last moment. Turning back around to see the man they suspect of murder--Littlefinger--Sansa remembers what Gabrielle said many times over--only Petyr Baelish can get her home. And given the length of time it's been and the uncertain future for herself, Sansa knows she must take this next step--become a player in his eyes so as to reassure him of her strength.
"I'm sorry, Lord Baelish. I have to tell the truth," Sansa relays as her potent blue eyes begin to tear up in front of him, finally turning to the council as he stares at her back, at once at the mercy of another. "I'll tell you everything."
The Lady Anya eyes Sansa with nothing short of compassion and conviction, prompting, "Please, Alayne, leave nothing out."
"My name is not Alayne. It's Sansa Stark, eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark," Sansa reveals the truth of her heritage as they stare in awe, the girl's eyes shifting to one of the men as she remembers, "Lord Royce, we met when you came to Winterfell. You were escorting your son Ser Waymar to the Wall."
"Sansa Stark?" the man mutters in question and awe, before being overcome with an innate hatred as he turns to Littlefinger with the sharp condemnation, "You tell lies right to my face, you little worm?"
"Lord Baelish has told many lies," Sansa admits with a soft and sad sigh, but she can just about feel his piercing look on her back. She almost grins as she turns the tables on him, "...All to protect me. Since my father was executed, I have been a hostage in King's Landing. A plaything for Joffrey to torture or Queen Cersei to torment. They beat me, they humiliated me, they married me to the Imp. I had no friends in King's Landing...except one. He saved me. Smuggled me away when he had the chance. He knew I'd be safe here in the Eyrie with my own blood, my Aunt Lysa. The Lannisters have friends everywhere. Even the Vale. He made me swear not to tell anyone my true name."
Ser Vance, the other lord, presses his hand across his heart at her testimony, "Your secret is safe with us, my lady."
"Your father grew up right here in these halls. We hunted together many times. He was a fine man," Lord Royce relates, and Sansa supposes that's why this man so hates Littlefinger: for the ploy that hurt Sansa's father.
"Tell us what happened to your aunt, Sansa," Anya prompts.
"You knew her well, my lords, my lady. You knew she was a troubled woman," Sansa says with the compassion she never held for her aunt, like a ghost to haunt the halls of history. "She always loved Lord Baelish. She told me herself. From the moment he arrived at the gates of Riverrun, a boy of eight, carrying everything he owned in a little sack. She confessed to me she never loved Lord Arryn. She did as her father commanded, as so many of us have. When the gods finally allowed her to be with Lord Baelish, she was so happy. For a time." Sansa sighs, "My aunt was a jealous lady. She was terrified that Lord Baelish didn't love her anymore. That he would abandon her for a younger woman. And then...one day she saw him kiss me."
