Trust (GOT fanfic)

Opponents

The bed chamber was dark. The candle Sansa lit to guide herself beneath the covers had guttered out hours ago. The dying embers in the hearth did little but cast dark shadows against the wall, nearly black at this hour of night instead of Arryn blue. Sansa laid in bed, dressed in her thinnest shift, seething.

After Sansa's well placed and  merciless teasing, the Lord Protector had the audacity to dance with Randa Royce. As if only wanting to press the matter that she was allowed to have no other friends than him.

Really, Randa would have been a wonderful bed mate. Alayne needed friends her own age she was such a lonely girl. And Sansa was lonelier still. How could either one be friends with Randa now.

"By the gods, the way she watched him," she exclaimed to her empty chambers. "Her eyes stripped him like a lecherous old man strips a virgin."

You mean like Littlefinger dreams of stripping you?

Yes.

Petyr Baelish had left the feast early as well. Sansa hadnt fully realized until she glanced around the room to find his gaze, only to discover he'd slipped away.

A thought struck her then.

What if he had escaped with her? Stupid girl! You didnt even look to see if Myranda Royce was still dancing with that squire who followed Harry around. 

That boy followed the heir with the same devotion as the girls who shadowed him. All of them so anxious for Harry to put a bastard in their belly and forget them. Silly, that they'd ruin their lives for one night with the dashing youth.

Not so long ago, Sansa fancied she might've been one of those girls. Her name would've granted her the freedom to pursue the youth. But still, she would've fallen for his charms and forgotten that her maidden head was worth a fortune and spent it on him. It might only be a lucky coincidence that he was an heir to a high seat.

At least the capitol had hacked that little trait to pieces. Perhaps King's landing had done her a kindness in that respect.

"He's with her now. I know he is," she muttered, pulling herself from her thoughts wandering toward the sticky heat and vibrant reds of the capitol.

The castle was red. The Lannisters were red; they adorned themselves in the color religiously. And the blood flowing in the gutters was red, even the rivers of the foul substance you couldnt see.

She flipped onto her side, punching her pillow into another shape. Sansa snuggled in, trying to clear her mind. But as she closed her eyes all she could picture was Baelish holding Myranda in his arms. Maybe they were dancing in her chambers without any music.

No, neither of them are so romantic as that. If he were in her chambers now... they'd be... they'd be...

Sansa threw back the covers on her bed. Pulled herself from the warmth and comfort that would have provided a sweet slumber and started fumbling in the dark for her slippers and bed robe. Once located she re-lit the candle on her bedside and set out through the cold, drafty hallways of the castle.

In the darkness the Eyrie was strange and frightening. The flickering flame that threatened to extinguish with every howl of wind that ripped through the stone walls cast sinister shadows on the wall. But Sansa was a wolf, awake at the hour of the wolf, she'd walk besides these shadows without fear. Much like she did with the shadows she found in the daylight.

Eventually she stumbled upon the familiar hallway that led to his solar. Her fist lifted to knock on the carved wood door, depicting the moon and falcon of Arryn, but she stoped. There was no light under coming from the crack underneath.