Little Wolf (Sansa/Petyr)

A Mild Inconvenience

When Sansa awoke, the weight that she had felt beside her in the bed was gone. Petyr had left at dawn, returning to his own bedchamber. He could not risk his being seen by anyone. So he crept away. If he were to have had his way, he would have slumbered beside Sansa until she woke. Her body was warm and she smelt so sweet that his mouth watered. But, he knew that if they had any chance of being together, he would have to follow the rules. Sansa understood why he had left, she was grateful that he had her reputation in mind. But she felt cold without his heat and alone now out of the tight embrace of his arms.

Petyr dressed for the day, a smile plastered onto his face after the best night's sleep he had had in a long while. However, a knock at the door disrupted this joyful peace. Petyr took the letter from the boy and opened it in haste.

Lord Baelish,

It has been so long since we have spoken and longer still since we have seen one another. Despite our differences I am sorrowed by this fact. I sail with Daenerys Targaryen for Westeros. What I ask of you is the allegiance of the Vale, of House Arryn's forces and of course of your allegiance, House Baelish. I can not relay any details in this letter, as I am sure you can understand, but meet me when the moon is in its second wax, at our old meeting spot and I promise you it shall be worth your while.

Varys.

Baelish stared at the letter. He had heard that the young Targaryen was strong, that she had taken over slaver's bay. But now the game had changed entirely. For once, Petyr was being involved, was one of the first to be asked for allegiance, he had power, he had authority, and he loved it. He felt intoxicated by the thought that he might rise higher than Lord Protector of the Vale. He knew that he had to travel to the outskirts of King's Landing to meet Varys, to learn about this dragon girl who could reclaim the land and crown from tyranny. His army could stay in the North whilst he visited and he could be back to either pledge them to Jon Snow or to take them to King's Landing in a swift amount of time. He thought of Sansa, he hated leaving her. But he knew that she would support him and that the outcome of this journey would be one she approved of.

Sansa sat alone in the hall, eating after everybody had left. She pondered on what would happen. Cersei had been Queen for a month and nothing too awful had been reported. But there was nobody left to kill, she had eliminated her enemies in one clean sweep, so surely it was clean sailing from here? But she had no true right to the throne. No royal blood ran through her veins. It was widely known that her children were not that of Robert Baratheon, which meant that a true recipient had not sat on the throne for a long while. With Robert Baratheon taking it by brute force and Lannisters sitting on it ever since, the only person who could boast any kind of legitimate claim would be Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons in the east. But could she really take back the throne for House Targaryen? Sansa was not sure.

Sansa's musings were interrupted by Lord Baelish entering the hall. A grave expression fell upon his face as he approached her and she knew any news that he had to relay was not that of a pleasant nature.
"I must go away." He began, his voice gruff and filled with sorrow.
"Why?" Sansa replied in a light questioning tone.
"Desperate matters call for my attention." He replied in a tone that allowed for no dispute.
"Of course. May I ask where you journey to?" Sansa attempted to sound excited, but her tone was weighed down by her complete despair at the thought of him leaving her.
"I ride south." Was the only information he would give her. He could not risk her being hurt for knowing too much.
"And shall you return?" Her voice broke, destroying any mask of indifference that she had dawned. He approached her now, his strides fast and long. He reached her in mere seconds and knelt before her. He held her chin between his finger and thumb and turned her face to meet his.
"Do you truly think I would ever leave you?" He asked, placing his forehead against hers.
"I do not know what to think where you are concerned, my Lord." She replied, feeling her resolve falter.
"I shall return, I promise you this. I will prove myself to you, little wolf." He brought her lips to his and left her with a soft, loving kiss that left Sansa breathless. Before she could say anything, before she could bid him farewell, he strode from the hall, feeling less whole than he had entered, leaving part of himself with her. For the first time in a long while, his body quaked and he felt the moisture of tears reach the corners of his eyes.

Sansa did not send him off. She was not waiting for him by the gates of Winterfell when he entered his carriage and bid farewell to Jon Snow. He had anticipated this. She was hurt, he had done exactly what he said he would not do and left. He was sure, upon contemplation, that she would understand. But, in this time, thinking of her hurting once again, at his hand, was more painful than anything he had felt before.

She heard him leave, heard the army send him off, Jon along with them. She longed to peek from her window, to watch him leave. But no, she could not. She was more than just the lovesick admirer of Petyr Baelish and she would work and slave over the things that she loved, to prove to herself that she could be truly happy, as she had not been in the longest of times.
"Please, Gretchen, fetch me some cream silk." She ordered her maid.
"Yes, my Lady." Gretchen hesitated for a moment.
"I hope I am not speaking out of line my Lady, but I am sure that he shall return. He cares for you, even I can see that." Sansa smiled at the young girl, still older than herself.
"Thank you. I hope that you are right." She thanked Gretchen, before sitting back into her large chair and working on a plan for a fine dress.

Petyr thought about her the entire journey to King's Landing. They would stop at taverns and every girl the men leered at would fall terribly short. Sansa's wide eyes and fire-licked hair played in his mind. He imagined her smiling and laughing and loving again. He smiled at the thought, hoping that she could forgive him for this inconvenience.

Varys waited for Baelish in their usual meeting place: a tavern nobody knew of, just outside of King's Landing. Varys had paid off the owner, to shut the establishment to give them the utmost privacy. Petyr walked in and he looked well, surprisingly. He did not have the bags under his eyes that one would associate with a man who had been travelling and he had a healthy glow about him. Varys met his old friend with smiles and open arms. They embraced and sat opposite one another, with a decanter of wine with two goblets.
"How have you been, my friend?" Varys asked Petyr.
"Of course, my life has been difficult since the untimely passing of my wife." He looked up to Varys with a knowing look and they both smirked.
"But truly, I have made some mistakes, but things appear to be shaping out quite nicely. How about you?" He asked, wondering what Varys had been using his time for.
"I have been supporting Daenerys Targaryen's claim to the throne." He replied simply.
"Yes, tell me more about that." Petyr cut him off.
"She has three dragons, all mighty and strong. Cersei has not a chance." He replied in whispers.
"So why do you need me?" He asked, wondering why the Targaryen girl would need his soldiers if she had dragons.
"We do not so much need your armies as much as your allegiance. She is a Targaryen and to many, her house has been dead for many years. It is not the taking of the throne that she needs help with, so your soldiers are safe. She is in need of strong friends to help her secure the throne once she acquires it." Varys leant in even closer.
"She will also need a Master of Coin and I daresay that you are the greatest candidate, especially if I put in a good word." Varys hinted, raising his eyebrows.
"That is a fine offer and I have no qualms with standing behind the Targaryen girl. But I have interests elsewhere that mean living in King's Landing would not be my finest option." Petyr replied, conflicted. Wanting to consider the prospective job, but also thinking of Sansa.
"What other interests? Your whorehouses are all in King's Landing, what could possibly-" Varys then understood, an expression of realisation washed over his face.
"Perhaps your interests are in the North, my Lord?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Petyr remained silent.
"Bring her with you. Lady Stark always enjoyed King's Landing from what I recall and I am sure my Queen would enjoy her immensely." Varys suggested. Petyr sat in deep thought, wondering if he could truly ask Sansa to come with him. Varys placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Well, I have your word that you shall pledge allegiance, it would be good for your own head to stick by it. I shall send word when you are required. Until then, enjoy the pleasures the North has to offer." Varys stood and left Petyr alone in the empty tavern, feeling very unsure and alone.