Little Wolf (Sansa/Petyr)

Changing Ambitions

She walked through the snow, feet heavy, mind heavier. They had won, she had acted and they had won, but at what price? Arya was still out there somewhere and Rickon was gone, who knew where Bran was, or even if he was alive. She had won, but they had a long way to go.

When she was a girl, Sansa would watch her Mother retreat to pray. She said it brought her peace and clarity in times of confusion and pain. Prayer was no longer an option for Sansa, the Gods were not with her, even if they were real and this loss of faith brought her both clarity and peace. However, she still sat in the garden used for prayer, still sat there and pondered on what was to come. She had come so far, fleeing from Geoffrey, fleeing from Ramsey, she was a different woman now, a stronger woman. She knew that fairy tales did not exist, that a shining prince would never come to save her, but unlike her younger counterpart, she did not mind so much.

He watched her as she made her way through her castle: Sansa. She was everything he wanted, he knew that now. Before her, his wants and desire were muddied, but now, now he had a goal, a flaming desire that he could not extinguish: her. She was his only way to happiness, the only medium of joy that he would ever be able to feel. When he closed his eyes, he felt his lips on hers, the kiss that they had shared in the Vale. He wished to share countless kisses with those lips. But he did not just want to kiss them, he wished to listen to them, the thoughts and opinions that flowed from them. He wanted her not only as a wife, but as an equal.

She saw him approach, in his black clothes, with his broach gleaming against the snow. He looked reverent, a false reverence, she knew, but reverence nonetheless.
"I apologise, my lady, if you are at prayer." He called out to her, false pretences of politeness.
"I am done with such things." She replied. He smiled, hearing the voice of a woman, not a child.
"I am glad to hear so. The devout let their love of the Gods cloud their judgment. You are superior without it." He cooed to her, standing beside her. She stood to face him, wondering what he could have to say to her.
"What do you want, Lord Baelish?" She asked and although her question was meant to address the present, it spanned much further than that.
"I thought you knew what I wanted." He strode slowly towards her.
"You want whatever suits you best in the moment, I am sure." She replied, sure that she was correct.
"That is where you are wrong, Lady Sansa. Although this might have been a trait of mine in the past, your entrance into my life has shifted the game most considerably." He reassured her. She pouted, realising that she was wrong.
"Then what is it that you want?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. He smiled wryly, placing his hands behind his back and leaning his head towards her.
"Why, I thought it was obvious." He stated, looking down upon her.
"I am afraid my vision is clouded, my Lord. Would you care to give me the gift of clarity?" She asked, the begging in her voice causing Petyr's mouth to water. He took yet another step forward.
"I have been watching you, Sansa. You are different. You are stronger, more stubborn than before. I have always watched you, ever since you first appeared in the throne room when you were just a child, so sweet and innocent." He reached out a hand to brush away a hair from her face. She did not put up any resistance.
"You have always been my little wolf, even then. You drew me in, with those green eyes that never saw enough to protect yourself. But you see now; you see those who are planning to hurt you, those who wish to rid you from the game." He preached to her, causing her to blush. Petyr always had this strange way of making her revert to the little girl who blushed and became flustered around men.
"Back then, I saw you as a pawn, a piece merely to use for my own gain. But you are my gain, Sansa. When I close my eyes, I have an image in my mind and every choice I make, every option I consider, it is all done with the image of you in my mind. But not as Sansa Stark, the little girl who did not see, but as Lady Baelish, my little wolf." He ran away with his feelings, unsure how she would react.

Sansa was unsure how to feel. Petyr was so much older than her, and he had sold her to Ramsey, a decision that she was unsure she could ever forgive. Yet he made her feel, feel a strange emotion that she had never felt before. She couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes out of fear that she might burn up, combust from his gaze. She could never know when he was telling the truth, did he really love her? Could he really love her? She was unsure. But she knew that the only way to convince her would be through his actions, his tireless devotion to her. She was not sure if she would accept him, but he made her feel like that child again, the girl who didn't fear the world the way she did now and that sensation was priceless. She felt him lean in to kiss her, but this was all moving too fast, progressing too quickly. She placed a hand on his chest to halt him, taking deep breaths to contemplate her options.

Petyr immediately halted when he felt her hand on his chest, putting up resistance. He did not want to hurt her or force her into anything that she did not consent to, she had been put through such ordeals enough by her late husband. He would have backed away, leaving her to her own thoughts, if she did not cling to him as she did. He placed a gloved hand on her face, feeling her rest her head into his palm.
"It is a pretty picture, my Lord" Was all that she said. He smiled softly, watching a tear roll down her cheek.
"Yes, it is. But is it what you want, Sansa? I hurt you by marrying Ramsey, put you through pain that a fair lady should never endure. For too long have you followed the orders of others, for too long have you not acted of your own volition. Now is the time that you may make the choice for yourself." He reassured her, smoothing her cheek with his thumb.

Sansa was unsure how to feel. Her mind went blank as she was held my Petyr, his hand upon her cheek. She placed her other gloved hand upon his chest and finally looked into his eyes.
"But the iron throne? The game?" They were not developed questions, but Petyr understood them nonetheless.
"It was all in pursuit of happiness, my love. I believed that power would make me happy, and I am sure that it would. But you, I can not let you go for a little chair made of swords." He promised her. She searched his eyes for something, for a hint of meddling, a lie. But there was none, his green-grey stare rang true and his soft smile filled her with a strange kind of hope that she deemed inappropriate for the moment. While she was being inappropriate, she thought she might as well let it run its course. She leant up to his cheek and placed a swift kiss to the skin there. She heard Petyr suck in a breath, shocked by her forward action and was shocked herself when he did not let her go. He placed his grip onto the tops of her forearms and kept her face close, close enough to feel her breath on his lips. He would not make the first move, he would not enforce himself upon her. Sansa was nervous, knowing that Petyr was waiting for her to show her consent. In the end, Petyr was a constant in her life. High born men came and went, husbands drifted by, but he was there, always. He had never raised a hand towards her and had never said a bad word against her, she could do far worse. So, she raised her lips up to his and let him do the rest. She felt a kind of solace in his kiss. His lips were chapped and cold, but he was like Winterfell, her home, the place where she truly felt safe. She was not accepting him outright, merely opening the idea to see how things would develop.

Petyr rejoiced, he was in disbelief that Sansa was going to entertain the idea of marriage where he was concerned. He had loved her Mother, that was for sure, but Sansa had admirable qualities that her Mother lacked. She was far superior and he would work to ensure that she knew so. He broke the kiss with her petal lips and pulled her close, her head against his chest in a protective embrace.
"You have always been mine, little wolf. And I will prove to you that in all of the world, with all of its riches and thrones, you are the prize that I seek most." He whispered down to her, placing one last kiss onto her lips.
"You are cold, let us return to the fire and warmth." He took her hand and began leading her back to the castle. She was unsure what lay ahead, but she was sure that it would involve him: Petyr Baelish and of this she could not decide whether she was glad or not, but she was sure that only time could decide on that matter.