Little Wolf (Sansa/Petyr)

Guilt

Sansa dreamt of Ramsey. Of his predatory gaze and his groping hands. Petyr could feel her sweating, could hear her whimpers of pain and held her tighter. He was unsure as to what she was dreaming, but it worried him that she was in such distress.

Sansa awoke with the sun and took a moment to recognise her surroundings. She could not believe that she had spent the night in Lord Baelish's room. Doing such a thing in Winterfell was one thing, but staying with a man whom you are not married to in King's Landing was an entirely different business. Although she had risen from her dream, Ramsey still plagued her mind and Sansa knew that at some point, Petyr would wish to speak about it. She felt embarrassed speaking about such things. She had used her assault against him before, but speaking about it when she was the one in pain seemed a far more daunting task.

She dressed quickly in the gown that she had worn the night before. She hoped that nobody would see her on her trip back to her quarters and she was grateful that Petyr did not bother her as she left. She wanted to keep this moment silent, as if speaking would push this situation into reality.

She rushed quickly, shuffling along the tiled floor. When she reached her room, Sansa shut the door and sighed in a moment of pure relief. She managed to arrive only moments before Gretchen knocked at the door.

Petyr was unsure as what to do. He wanted to know Sansa's pain and he wanted to help her heal. However, he was quite unknowing as how to go about it. He did not want to scare her, or push her too quickly. But he knew if he said nothing at all that this would be the worst mistake.

Tyrion wondered why Lord Baelish requested to speak with him after breakfast, but he allowed it as Baelish was one of the more interesting characters in King's Landing and he found himself rather bored.
"You have been married to Sansa." He began and Tyrion looked up from his goblet of wine in shock.
"Here I am thinking that you wished to speak of the finances of the seven kingdoms. But, yes, I was married to Sansa for a short while, but only in name." He added, not wanting Baelish to believe that there was any physical history between them. Petyr did not know whether to trust Tyrion or mask his words. He was the hand of the Queen, but that had never meant too much where trust was concerned.
"And I am to believe that you shall be also." Tyrion added, wanting for Baelish to speak openly, if only for Sansa's sake.
"She has grown to be a fine woman. But her life has not been the easiest and she is hurting." Petyr admitted. Tyrion understood Baelish's issue.
"And you want to help her without hurting her further." Tyrion finished Petyr's thought.
"You must ask her. If I know anything about women, which I am not sure that I do, it is that they are far more likely to speak about the topic you wish if you bring it up, instead of waiting for her to speak of it herself." Tyrion spoke wisely. Baelish nodded, feeling that Tyrion's advice was sound.

Daenerys found herself in a troubling situation. Two men who claimed to love her were now living in the red keep and the chances of running into them were very high. She had little problem with Jorah, she would simply place him in some kind of trading position. But Daario Naharis was a far trickier situation. She felt something for him, whether that was love or lust at the moment she was not quite sure. He had no land, no money, nothing that would make him a possible suitor, yet she still laid awake at night and thought about the nights that they had spent together. When she had seen him last, she was sure that she loved him, but upon contemplation, she was not unconvinced that she was not simply lonely. So, she called for him, to discuss what his plans were.

With Daario sat before her, Daenerys was less confused. He was very handsome and powerful, but he did not have that firey passion behind his eyes that she had always seen in Drogo. She asked him what his intentions were in King's Landing.
"I am here to be of service to you, my Queen." He replied and Daenerys did not find him as appealing as she once had.
"And what service would that be?" She asked, wondering if he was planning on contributing anything to her country.
"I am here to love you." He blushed, but held her eye contact.
"I am sorry, but that shall not be necessary." She replied, also retaining the eye contact.
"You don't know what you are saying." He insisted.
"I am the Queen and I know exactly what I am saying." She stood now, with anger in her voice.
"I placed you in command of Dragon's Bay out of respect for you. You have left your position and any respect I had for you has gone. You may return to your post in Dragon's Bay, but you are not needed here." She insisted, her eyes stern and her voice sterner still. He understood now, Daario had not been loved by the Queen, not as he had thought. And in the light of this embarrassment, he fled, leaving Daenerys, Jorah and King's Landing without a single word. Daenerys did not feel any regret in this moment. A strange grief for the Khal Drogo crept into her heart. Daenerys was a fine ruler. However, in affairs of the heart, she found herself totally useless.

Sansa enjoyed King's Landing most at dusk, when the sun was gone and the pale pink sky dwindled, threatening to plunge her into darkness. She had avoided Baelish, out of embarrassment. She had acted improperly and she felt ashamed. However, sat in the garden, reading her book of folklore and tales, Sansa had nowhere to run.

Petyr saw her, reading her book in the garden. She looked so angelic, so serene that he felt almost guilty for disturbing her. But, she had been avoiding him and he wished to get to the bottom of it.

Sansa watched as Petyr sat opposite her.
"Lord Baelish, what a surprise to see you out in the garden." She closed her book, placing it on her lap, staring at its cover.
"Sansa?" She looked up at him now and his expression was a mixture of pity and confusion.
"Please, tell me what is bothering you." He begged, his eyes pleading to her. She took a deep breath and placed her fingers to her forehead, allowing her eyes to fall shut.
"I am mortified, my Lord, at my conduct as of recent." She stated, feeling her voice fall stale. Petyr knew that she was choosing her words carefully, but pressed on.
"What would give you reason to be mortified?" He asked and heard Sansa sigh. She then looked him dead in the eye and stated:
"I laid with you, like a common whore." These words leaving her mouth left Petyr in a state of pure shock. He took a few moments to recover, then thought about what she had said.
"Have you ever been to a whore house, Lady Sansa?" He asked, amused by the thought og what Sansa thought happened between the men and women there.
"No." Her mouth pouted and bit down on his bottom lip at the sight of a pouting Sansa Stark.
"I see." He replied and Sansa looked up at him with wide, slightly offended eyes.
"Why would you think that you are like such a woman?" He asked, in all seriousness.
"I laid in your bed, is that not what whores do?" She asked, in a partially rhetorical question.
"No, not exactly." Petyr worked hard to stifle his chuckle. Sansa looked as if she were about to weep from the humiliation she was experiencing.
"Is this about Bolton?" Petyr asked, and when he received no reply, he continued.
"Anything that he did to you did not make you less of a woman, or more of a whore. The only thing it did was make him less of a man." Petyr assured Sansa. When she would not look up at him, he reached his hand out to her.
"Please, my love. I need to know that you understand that." He kept the eye contact once it was established and Sansa nodded, feeling she might cry were she to open her mouth. When he rose, she placed her book onto the table and wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. He held her tightly, hoping dearly that what he had said had been communicated to her in some way.