Little Wolf (Sansa/Petyr)

The Wedding

The wedding was set. The cold, bitter air chilled the Vale. Visitors had come from Dorn and King's landing to witness the marriage. Opinions on the match varied. She was young and beautiful and he was very wealthy, it should have been the perfect match. But people's jealousy turned them bitter. Women scoffed that Sansa was only a replacement for Catlyn and the men thought Baelish too plain for Sansa, or they commented his wealth was not to her standard. Nobody mentioned the emotion, the love they shared for each other. It was all plotting and tactics and statistics, it was shallow.

Sansa was terrified. This would be her third marriage. She was sure that people thought of her as used goods, and she supposed, in a way, they were right. She was not entering her marriage untouched, but Petyr did not mind and his was the only opinion she cared about.

It was early in the morning when she rose. Gretchen was going to help her get ready, before readying herself for Tyrion. Sansa could not believe the day had come. They had waited so long, they had struggled and fought, but that didn't seem to matter anymore.

Sansa believed her wedding dress was the finest gown she had ever made. It was pure white, with long sleeves, to protect her from the cold, and a neckline a few inches lower than she was used to. It was simple and subtle. No jewels, no gold, just Sansa, as she was.

Gretchen tied her hair back in a simple knot, ensuring no hair was to fall into her face. Sansa secured the veil into her hair and allowed it to fall over her face. This was how she had wanted to look at her first two weddings, this was how she wanted to feel.

Sansa dismissed Gretchen and waited for Varys to come and collect her. She had asked Varys to walk her down the aisle, because he had always been such a true friend to both her and Petyr.

Petyr stood with Tyrion, in his quarters. He was nervous. He secured his sword into his black tunic with shaking hands.
"Are you excited? You should be excited." Tyrion stated, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Yes." Was Petyr's short reply.
"I am nervous she will not want me." He blurted out after a second.
"I have been waiting so long, playing the game with her for so long, that it feels strange to not have to fight anymore, not have to win her affections. I fear it is too good to be true." He sighed.
"That is the fatalist in you speaking. You have put in the work and now it is time for you to reap the rewards. Sansa loves you and I am sure she is just as relieved as you are to not have to play games anymore." Petyr nodded, feeling a weight fall from his shoulders, knowing he would not have to fight for her anymore.

The door knocked and Sansa opened it, expecting Varys. Her eyes widened as she saw Jon stood in her doorway.
"Jon, how are you here?" She shook her head in disbelief.
"I could not miss this day. I have already missed two of them." He joked with her and Sansa supposed it was better to ask fewer questions, else she would worry herself.
"I doubt I shall be walking Arya down the aisle any time soon. So I shall take pleasure in doing the service for you." He smiled down at her. He had had a haircut and a shave and he wore newly dyed clothes, blacker than charcoal. Sansa was impressed.

Gretchen had met Lord Tyrion by the doors of the hall. She had worn her finest blue dress, with capped sleeves and a high neckline. She feared the cold, but it was the best she had. Tyrion had never seen someone so captivating. Her blonde hair was worn down, her crown braided and her eyes were wide as they entered the hall. She had never witnessed such a scene. The room was decorated with the most beautiful flowers, snowdrops and lilies. She inhaled deeply, smelling their sweet scent. Tyrion could have watched her forever, in wonderment of the scenery. She was like a child, drinking everything in.

Petyr entered the hall alone. He saw Varys stood at the top of the stairs and they exchanged a smile as he walked. He had asked his friend to perform the ceremony because he knew that neither he nor Sansa were very religious. He stood and looked out at the crowd. There was a third of the amount of people they would have had in the Red Keep. Petyr now understood why she had insisted to have it here. He admired the flowers and then waited, for what felt like an eternity.

The walk to the hall was long. Sansa interlocked her arm in Jon's and they took a slow pace, so that she would not exert herself.
"You are sure this is what you want?" Jon whispered to her. Sansa smiled, feeling she might cry.
"Yes Jon, this shall be my final marriage, I assure you." She looked down at the ground, smiling. Jon watched her.
"You love him, don't you?" He asked. It was very rare for a marriage in Westeros to be a love match, but it seemed his sister had gotten lucky.
"Yes, very much so." She replied and Jon knew that she spoke the truth.

Finally, they reached the doors and Sansa took a deep breath.
"Are you ready?" He asked and she nodded.
"Yes, I am ready." They began walking and everyone rose. Sansa couldn't believe how beautiful the room was. The moondoor had long since been closed and flowers had been hung on the walls. This was how she had always wanted it, this was what she had not had at her previous two weddings. Her brother walking her down the aisle in a beautiful room, to meet the man she truly loved. It all seemed too much for her for a moment, but when she saw Petyr's face, she knew she could do anything.

Petyr had never seen anything as beautiful as Sansa on that day. Dressed in white, her skin flushed and her face smiling. This was the wife he had always wanted.

They met at the altar and Jon let go of Sansa, in a moment that hit him far harder than he had anticipated. Petyr removed the veil from Sansa's face and looked into the eyes of his blushing bride.

Varys could professionally ordain marriages based on his performance that day. Everyone was captivated and anyone who had doubted the match before could not look at the two of them and deny they were a good match. Sansa looked up at Petyr and said her vows and then Petyr took his turn and then it was official: Sansa was Lady Baelish and the game was over.

Once the ceremony was over, the feast began. Daenerys gave the couple her blessing and then moved to sit beside Jorah Mormont.
"Oh to be that happy." She whispered to him.
"Few of us are fortunate enough to be." He replied and she supposed he was right. She was not that happy when she had married Drogo. The love had grown during the marriage. She looked over at Jorah and sighed. Perhaps one day she would love him the way that Sansa loved Petyr, she hoped she would, but only time could tell.

Tormund and Brienne congratulated the couple and Sansa congratulated them for their engagement, to which Brienne's cheeks became flushed.

Jon approached Sansa.
"I am sorry, but I must leave. The North needs me." Sansa kissed her brother on the cheeks.
"Of course. Thank you for being here, Jon. It meant the world to me." He kissed her forehead and left. The war was being won, slowly but surely, the white walkers were being defeated by the dragon glass.

Tyrion sat with Gretchen and they spoke about the wedding and the couple.
"You married Sansa once, did you not, my Lord." She asked and he nodded.
"Yes, but it was a forced match. I have never married for love." He admitted.
"Neither have I. My parents think I am a failure because I have not married yet." Gretchen admitted, looking down at her hands.
"Do not ever think that of yourself." Tyrion told her. He knew he was going to marry this woman, if it took a day or ten years, he would win her over.

Sansa held Varys' hand.
"I do not know how you got him here. But thank you." She squeezed his hand and he smiled.
"It is not very often a couple can marry for love. I did my duty. You are a fine woman, Sansa." He bowed and left them.

They looked at each other now, Sansa and Petyr.
"I love you, little wolf." He whispered to her among the throng.
"And I you." She replied and she could not wait to begin her life with him. She wanted to be the Mother of his children, his rock to lean on. She was now his wife, which she had never dreamt of happening. She was elated. She meant what she said to Jon, this was going to be her last marriage. The world could throw whatever they liked at them: white walkers, civil wars, an unending winter, but they would stay strong. As long as she was by Petyr's side, she knew that she was where she was meant to be. She had gone through so much, endured so much pain. She had so much power now, so many responsibilities. But when she was with Petyr, she was his little wolf.