Little Wolf (Sansa/Petyr)

Women of Power

Dawn crept up on the new kingdom as coronation day came. Sansa was awoken by the light of sunrise, glinting through her thin gossamer curtains. Gretchen saw the her morning routine and helped her as she awoke.
"It is an important day." Sansa stated, yawning against the palm of her hand.
"Yes, my Lady. Indeed it is." Gretchen agreed. Perhaps it didn't mean as much to her, who sat on the iron throne. But to Sansa, it was imperative that she be on the right side of the Queen to ensure the longevity of her household.
"I must look perfect." Sansa spoke to herself for the most part. But Gretchen understood.
"Yes, my Lady. A fine impression must be made." Sansa smiled down at her, excited about the day.

Varys knocked upon Sansa's door, his hands tingling with anticipation. Sansa answered and Varys felt himself gasp slightly. She wore a snow white gown, which was embroidered to perfection and left her ivory shoulders bare. A single curl fell down her neck, leaving the rest in intricate braids. She looked unlike anyone he had seen before, and that was quite a feet.
"Good morning, Lord Varys." Sansa began to worry about her outfit of choice. Gretchen had ensured her that her creation was spellbinding, but Lord Varys' reaction was proving her fact rather false.
"Good morning, my Lady. You look-" He couldn't quite finish his sentence without sounding inappropriate, even as a eunuch, he could appreciate her striking beauty.
"Should I change?" She asked in horror.
"No no no." He answered too quickly. "You look ravishing my dear. I dread to think what the men of court will think of you." His mind lied upon one man in particular, who he thought might have a heart attack upon seeing her.
"Oh, thank you, Lord Varys. I wanted to ensure that I looked my best for the Queen." Sansa smiled prettily, looking to the floor, a little embarrassed in his company.
"You shall be announced to the Queen before the ceremony. If you come with me." Sansa could barely breath. It had been so long since she had stepped foot in the throne room. However, she mustered the courage to walk with Varys. However, she had to stop.
"What ever is the matter?" He asked, worry enveloping his voice. Sansa did not, no could not admit to Lord Varys that she was frightened. She lifted her head and smiled.
"My foot slipped." She covered herself, to which he chuckled and continued on.

Tormund stood with Brienne in his quarters. She insisted that she shouldn't be there, but he had no one to assist him and she knew these fine clothes better than anyone he had met.
"I look ridiculous!" He exclaimed, looking at his reflection, covered in leather rather than the usual fur. His beard had been trimmed and his hair tamed. With his new look, Brienne thought him quite the Westerosi man.
"I think you look handsome." She assured him behind his back, looking at the reflection. He raised an eyebrow in interrogation.
"Truly, I do. You look like the men from songs I used to sing as a child." She jested and he laughed along until he pulled her into a tight embrace.
"But this is not who I am, Brienne of Tarth. I am a wildling, and I always will be. No matter what fine clothes you stuff me in or how many fine people you get me to meet. I shall still be Tormund, Lord of nowhere, wilding savage." He huffed, smoothing his hair and turning away from her, feeling inadequate. She came behind him and turned him to face her.
"And I wouldn't have you any other way. Why do you think I haven't run off with one of these pompous pricks? It isn't a lack of offers, I can tell you that!" She jested.
"Offers, eh?" He joked with her, pulling her into his arms and squeezing her, causing her to call out in laughter.
"Come, come. We must go, else you shall be late and nobody is late for the Queen." She raised an eyebrow and he huffed, allowing her to lead him to a room full of people that would look at him as if he were a savage.

Petyr had been called to the Queen earlier that the others. He had entered the throne room, where she paced. Her hair was as white as people had told and she was as beautiful as people had professed.
"Lord Baelish. How lovely it is to finally meet you." She walked towards him, her voice chiming like a bell. She placed her hand in his and he bowed, to which she smiled.
"The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty." He stated reverently.
"So, you are to be my Master of Coin?" She asked.
"If your Majesty wishes it." He replied, slightly confused by her question.
"How well do you know money?" She asked.
"I run many businesses in King's Landing and i've never lost a coin. Everything I have I earnt myself." He promoted himself. Daenerys was impressed.
"You shall do well on my small council." She decided and Petyr bowed in reply.
"Stay. I shall be receiving my guests now." She ordered him and he followed perfectly as he watched her sit in the iron throne. He wondered if she should be sitting there before her coronation, but decided that she was not a woman to be trifled with and remained silent.

Tyrion stood beside Daenerys and explained who everybody was after their name had been announced. Daenerys was a wonderful leader, but she did not have much knowledge of the history and families of Westeros, an issue that could easily be resolved.

Petyr stood alone and watched as each well dressed highborn entered the throne room. He rolled his eyes as they all bowed and curtsied, still with fear in their eyes at meeting the Mother of Dragons.
"Lord Tormund of beyond the wall." The squire called out and Petyr could hear the gasp that was shared by the guests. The doors opened and in he strode. He looked like any other knight meeting the Queen, dressed in what was definitely his best finery. Petyr nodded to the man after he bowed to the Queen and wondered how he had been scrubbed up so nicely. People parted when Tormund approached to which both he and the Queen to be, rolled their eyes.

She was the only person left. Daenerys had asked for her to be brought in last, so that she would have time to truly look at her, not having to wait upon anyone else. There was an obviously thick tension building in the room. Whispers had began about the poor Stark girl who had been beaten on the very same floor as they stood on. The crowd speculated if she would cope, if she could handle the trauma of her past.

Sansa stood with Varys, who could tell that she was nervous.
"Do not fear. You shall be perfect." He reassured her and she nodded, not being able to say anything.
"Lady Sansa Stark. Wardeness of the North." The squire announced and the room fell into silence. The doors opened and Sansa straightened her spine, lifted her head and began walking. Whispers should have begun. But people were so stunned that they could not find their voices. There she was, bold and triumphant. When they had last seen her, she looked like a timid little girl. But now, she looked like the Wardeness of the North, a woman of power. Her dress embroidered with fine skill, her skin glowing an alabaster ivory, her hair braided like snakes of fire and an expression upon her face that suggested that she would not be hurt again. The silence did not bother Sansa, it energised her, giving her power. Daenerys nodded her head slowly, watching the woman enter the room. She was confident, powerful and breathtaking. Her skin was as pale as snow and her lips glowed like rose petals. Daenerys saw much potential in this girl who could overcome so much tragedy in her life.

Petyr watched, his mouth hung agape, as Sansa approached the throne. Her dress glowed against the sunlight and truly looked like a Queen of the North. He had never seen her with so much confidence, with such drive and it could not have suited her more.

Sansa curtsied deeper than she ever had before, taking her time as she knew that countless eyes were on her.
"Lady Stark, I have heard about the tragedies of your house. May I offer my condolences." Daenerys called out to Sansa. Every other guest had replied with a single sentence, a reverent thanks and a bow. However, Sansa did not see an authoritarian figure sat upon the throne. She saw a girl, much like herself, with no family and too much power to know what to do with.
"Thank you, your Majesty. My condolences are with you also. As I am not alone in suffering due to tragedy." She stated, looking up at Daenerys. She was a breath of fresh air in a sea of reverent ponces. Daenerys beamed at the young girl from the North, who curtsied, before standing in front of Petyr Baelish. The crowd had began to mutter when Baelish leaned against the back of her neck and whispered:
"Very well done, little wolf." She smiled, feeling her power wash over him. At the time, it had been simply a jest, but Sansa truly was becoming a superior player in this game the Baelish loved so much.