Little Wolf (Sansa/Petyr)

Evening by the Fire

Sansa had readily humoured the idea that Petyr cared for her. She thought it easier to believe than to live her life a sceptic where he was concerned. He sat with her at dinner and they spoke low about the local houses, those who had sworn allegiance and those that hadn't. Sansa hoped that this would become a common occurrence, as she enjoyed his voice low in her ear and his strong peppermint breath brushing against her skin.
"Do you like the pie?" He asked, completely out of the blue. Sansa took a moment to process the question, after their heavy talk about war.
"Yes, pork is my favourite meat, my Lord." She replied, hoping that her answer would suffice.
"I shall have to remember that. Perhaps I can see what the lemon cake situation is in the North." He whispered against her ear and she couldn't help but lick her lips, remembering the sweet tangy taste of lemon cakes.
"I would be very grateful, my Lord." She replied, no louder than a whisper. If she had it her way, they would have continued whispering about trivial things. But people began to look and Petyr was not ready to be taken for any less than an honourable man, so he pulled away and focused on his meal.

To watch Sansa lick her lips at the idea of lemon cakes brought Petyr a delight he had not felt in an age. The glint in her eye was reminiscent of the innocence that had always been infused in her personality. She was not the same woman, but it was obvious that that innocence was still buried deep in there, somewhere. Their conversation had gone well and he was delighted to see Sansa open herself up to him, to allow him to sit so close and to speak with her in such a public setting. He knew it would take time, but it was time well spent.
"Would you sit with me after dinner?" He asked her and she did no more than nod. But this was enough for Baelish, enough to show that she was willing to spend her time with him where she could have been spending it doing something else with someone else.

After dinner, Sansa led Petyr to her personal quarters that she had been assigned by Jon. It was a well sized room to entertain guests, with a large fire that kept its occupants warm. Sansa opened the door for Petyr, locking it behind, so no maids nor visitors could enter. Petyr noticed the gesture and smiled to himself, glad that she wished for their time to be uninterrupted. They sat together, in the two large plush chairs and stared at the fire.
"Winter is here." Petyr remarked, watching Sansa remove some of her furs.
"Yes it is, but the fire is warm and so am I." She retorted. Petyr fell silent, watching the little minx kick off her shoes and curl up into her chair. Petyr wandered lazily over to the wine that Sansa had on her table. He poured two goblets, before returning and placing one into her hand.
"Thank you." She whispered, putting the cold metal to her lips.

Petyr was unsure what to speak about at first. Life had changed so much for Sansa that he was unsure what she even enjoyed anymore.
"We miss you at the Vale. The walls are empty without your beautiful voice." He remembered her singing in the late afternoon, with her tutor instructing her. Sansa's voice was sweet and gilded, Petyr could have listened to it for all of winter.
"I miss the Vale. Although it was a time of struggle, I enjoyed my life there. My hobbies, those that have fallen away with necessity." She thought aloud wistfully, mourning her feminine talents that she had had to give up in times of war.
"Perhaps you should take up one of your hobbies again? You have time now and an occupation might help you with the trauma you have endured." Petyr suggested. He honestly thought it a fine plan to encourage Sansa to take up an occupation once again. She had endured so much and she deserved a break, time to indulge in a selfish occupation. One that could be only for her, for her enjoyment.
"Perhaps I shall start my needlepoint once more. That would be practical as well as enjoyable." Sansa proposed.
"I think that a fine idea. Your needlework was always the finest in King's Landing." He complimented her and once again she blushed.

They spent the rest of the evening speaking reverently about the catastrophe in King's Landing.
"I just can not fathom how one could kill so many of her people." Sansa mused.
"I can. I have met Cersei and from what little knowledge I have of the workings of her mind she would do anything for the people she loves. And the person that Cersei loves the most is Cersei." He stated reverently. He could have easily been in that sept, with those people. Cersei had gone too far and Petyr was sure that she had tempted fate this time and that her rule would short lived.
"Loras, Margaery, the Lord of Highgarden, these were all people I knew and cared for. And then Tomen, the king! Cersei could not have done this for him, I can not believe it." Sansa exploded in emotion. Petyr was impressed. He was glad that she was so angry, anger against such evil was natural and healthy for any sane person.
"I daresay I agree with you, my love, her only motivation for her actions was that of selfishness." Petyr shook his head.
"Well, now she is queen and she has gotten what she wanted. So I suppose it is not our place to judge her and her actions when they have aided her in achieving her goal." Sansa's voice was filled with sadness, thinking about King's Landing under the control of Cersei.
"Perhaps my dear, but at what price?" He asked her. Cersei had lost her children, the only thing she professed to care for. What did she have left, a crown? But that would come and go like the wind and then what would she have?
"It grows late and I do not wish to sadden you further. Come, let me escort you to your room." Sansa smiled at Petyr, feeling tired herself.

Petyr walked with his arm locked in Sansa's. She had adorned her furs again to fight the chilling cold, but Petyr still relished the sight of her throwing them to the side in the warmth of the fire in his mind. He knew she was unsure about him and his intentions and he was glad. Any respectable girl should be weary about a man professing love for them. If Sansa had willingly thrown herself at him, he would have been surprised and slightly disappointed, but as things went, she acted quite the lady and for that he was proud. Once they got to her door, Sansa and Petyr stood opposite one another, Sansa looking up into his eyes.
"Good night, Lord Baelish. I hope your slumber is restful." She bid him farewell, but before she could enter her chambers, Petyr leant down and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek, so close to her mouth that she felt her knees go weak. When he finally released her from his trance, he whispered:
"I am in a meeting with Lord Snow tomorrow, so I shall not see you until the afternoon. Begin the needlework for me, will you?" He asked and she nodded. He smiled and placed a hand upon her cheek, watching her lean into his touch, before turning and leaving her.

When Sansa entered her room, her maid, Gretchen was waiting for her. She was slender with mousy hair and dull skin, but she worked hard and she had worked for Sansa during her time with Ramsey, which in turn produced a bond between them that was restored once Sansa had returned.
"Could you do me a favour and fetch me some needlework equipment?" She asked her.
"If the hour is too late, I understand." She added, not wanting to sound like a petulant child.
"Of course, my lady. House Mormont gifted you new equipment upon your return to Winterfell." Sansa smiled and changed as the girl left. She would work through the night, sewing. Not so much for Petyr as for herself. He had ignited a flame of selfish desire within her and she felt the need to spread her artistic wings and produce something that she could present to him in pride. She worried that she had reverted to the young girl who doted after her men. But he had doted after her for as long as he had known her, or so he said. A small gift in return would not do too much harm, she was sure.