Loki: Game of Thrones

Chapter 20 - Close Encounter

Loki knew he could not be blatant in his searching for Sansa. If there was one thing be prided himself on, it was subtlety. So, he calmly took a stroll around the palace, all the while, searching for Sansa's specific mental signature. It did not take long for him to find it in the holy sept. Of course, Loki could also feel Septa Mordane hovering beside her like an ugly pariah. Loki used some of his magic to get Septa Mordane to leave Sansa alone before a statue of the Mother. The eldest daughter of Ned Stark, looked up at the statue, admiring the gentle smile on the Mother's face. Her hands were slightly extended, and the light from her votive candles shone up into her face. Sansa smiled slightly, before she felt a presence next to her. "She's too plain for my liking," Loki's cool voice said a few inches from her ear. Sansa jumped slightly, and saw him smirking at her.

"You shouldn't mock the gods, Loki! They're up there, watching us now!" Sansa warned, and Loki chuckled dryly. Sansa raised her eyebrow, wondering what he was finding so amusing.

"You have too much faith in them," Loki told her.

"And you have no faith at all," Sansa countered. Loki shrugged his shoulders dismissively, and he walked around Sansa so that he was in front of her.

"I have faith in the one person who matters. Myself. As long as I believe I can achieve anything I set my mind to, I will not fail," Loki explained to Sansa.

"Sounds a little arrogant," Sansa commented. Loki grinned and guided her away from the statue.

"You call it arrogance. I call it skill. Oh, and speaking of skill, you seem to possess the skill necessary in bypassing my locking spell. Impressive for a little girl," Loki said to her. Sansa stiffened, realizing that he knew she had been in his room. They had come to a window, overlooking the sept's courtyard, and Loki put his arm on the stone, blocking her path. Sansa looked up at him. Loki looked down at her. Her lips trembled, and Loki's eyes were drawn to them briefly. Sansa's eyes, in the meantime, had also been bewitched by Loki's mouth. His lips were forming their signature smirk, and Sansa found herself memorizing the lines they made. When they finally looked back into each other's eyes, they were very close. However, Loki pulled away, and cleared his throat. "Can you please free my shirt, or, do I have to pay ransom?" Loki queried.

"Well... let me see... do I want to charge you for all the work I've done?" Sansa asked.

"Any extra work you did was of your own fruition. But... if I could please have everything you've made so far, that would be marvelous," Loki teased. Sansa straightened up at this, and her hand came up. Loki caught it, and his fingers held her delicate wrist in their firm grasp.

"Why is your skin so cold?" Sansa wondered out loud. Loki knew the answer to that, but, she already knew too much about him without him revealing that piece of information to her. But, he also knew she could sense when he was lying, so it was not like he could brush it away.

Damned inconvenient, he thought to himself, before he shook his head. "I can't tell you that. At least not now," Loki responded, releasing her hand. Sansa rubbed her wrist, and they created more space between each other. "May I please have my linen work, Lady Sansa?" Loki requested. Sansa tilted her head, acknowledging his entreaty.

"I shall have them delivered to your chambers shortly," Sansa told him. Loki smiled, extended his hand, and bowed to her. Sansa watched as he disappeared into the shadows of the statues in the sept, and soon, she could not even hear the sound of his boots on the stone. It was like he had magically disappeared.

Sansa gathered all the shirts she had made for him up to that point. Five in total: a white with gold embroidery of wolves in the collar; a silver with black vines in the hem and cuffs. A dark blue with strings to tie it closed; a plain black. And finally, a green the name of the Stranger stitched into the back of the collar. Sansa folded them neatly, and grabbed the handkerchief. That was when she grabbed the original shirt that she had taken from his wardrobe. Running her fingers over it, Sansa brought it to her cheek, still getting that scent of snow from the material. Gathering everything into her arms, Sansa started to leave the suite. As she opened the door, Sansa bumped into Petyr Baelish standing just outside. "Oh! Lord Baelish!" Sansa said, trying to hide the shirts, but failing. Baelish raised an eyebrow at seeing them, before he looked back at Sansa.

"It would appear that you've been busy, my lady," he said to her, his smooth voice lingering over 'my lady'. Sansa nodded, adjusting her embroidery carefully, and giving him a slight smile.

"Just something to keep me occupied. I plan on sending these back to Winterfell for my brothers," Sansa lied. She knew she did not sound at all convincing, and Baelish noticed. He smirked and stepped aside to let her pass. As Sansa walked by him, he stared after her.

"Have a care, my lady," he suddenly said to her, and Sansa stopped walking. She turned around to face him, a quizzical expression on her face. "I speak of Ser Loki Sells-sword," Baelish enlightened, and he noticed how the pink left Sansa's cheeks.

"Why would I have anything to do with the sells-sword?" Sansa posed in return. Baelish shrugged and closed the distance between them. Sansa took a few unsure steps back, but Baelish did not stop approaching.

"This morning, Ser Loki defeated the Kingsguard before the entire court. Sixteen men," Petyr Baelish explained. Sansa's eyes widened. Loki against sixteen men? And he still won?! Sansa looked away and cleared her throat.

"Well, that is interesting, but I still don't see what it has to do with me," Sansa said, her eyes on the shirts in her arms.

"Because Joffrey believes he has his eyes on you," Baelish told her. At these words, Sansa could feel her heart leap into her throat. Again, somebody believed that Loki had affection for her. Sansa swallowed and thought about all their encounters thus far. The first time they had met, she believed Loki saw her as nothing but a child. The second time, he said they should be friends. The third time, he had insulted Joffrey, and somehow, manipulated everyone into believing his story. Sansa created a pattern out of all of this. Loki was protecting her. Making sure that no matter what, her good name was spared. At the expense of his own.

"Well, his highness is wrong. He does not care for me, or anybody," Sansa responded, and she turned around to continue her walk.

"Prove it," Baelish said and she stopped. "Give those to me, and I'll take them to Ser Loki," Petyr Baelish offered. Sansa stiffened, and simply stared at Baelish as he took the clothes from her. He was grinning as he walked down the hall with them, and disappeared around a corner.