So, I have not written any fiction at all for a very long time. I'm a writer by profession, but I have found that while I used to write stories all the time, and the characters and their actions still play along inside my head, since I have become a slave to editors, publishers and deadlines I find it much harder to write anything creative anymore.

I've been enjoying other peoples Fanfiction solidly for almost 8 years now, and while I have written my own in the past, this is the first thing I have tried in a while, and the first thing I have written for Game of Thrones. I think that there is a lot more scope for Sansa and Lord Baelish as characters together, because I think Sansa will prove to be a lot stronger than she so far seems, and a lot more like him in her ability to play politics with those around her. Given Lord Baelish's confession to her in the Season 6 finale (don't worry, no spoilers!) I thought taking them back to King's Landing and putting them in a situation like that might be a good place to start (and you know, I have read far too many Harry Potter/ Marriage Law fics in my time than is probably healthy!)

Sansa sincerely hoped that the waiting would be the worst part. She pondered this as she sat at the foot of her bed taking steadying sips from her cup of wine, waiting for her husband.

Her husband.

Of course Sansa knew what was expected. Her mother had discussed her wedding night with her what seemed like a lifetime ago before she left Winterfell for King's Landing, and she'd listened to her maids gossip and talk. She'd always be nervous, she supposed, but the thought of Lord Baelish touching her like that, seeing her without her clothes, terrified her.

By all accounts her new husband was not an unkind man, just a devious one. No one knew what side Littlefinger was on, and Sansa had no idea if she could trust the man who she was now bound to, who she would be leaving King's Landing with in the morning on the long journey to the Vale.

The sound of the door to the chamber creaking open pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up as Lord Baelish entered the room, the light from the lanterns in the hallway illuminating his face for a moment before he closed the door behind him, his expression unreadable.

Petyr Baelish looked across the room at his new wife. The Stark girl was the splitting image of her mother, and sitting at the end of the bed clutching a cup of wine that seemed far too big and clumsy in her small, delicate hands she looked so young and innocent compared to the bold, confident girl who had stood up next to him as they pledged themselves to each other in front of the court. Fear had clearly broken through her facade of bravery, and while Petyr knew better than to show it, the sight of the frightened girl absolutely shattered his resolve.

He had planned to kiss, cajole, even seduce his new wife. He barely knew the girl, but she looked so much like her mother, and he needed her at his side if he was going to gain anything from this marriage.

However, now he just wanted to be out of the room as quickly as possible so that he did not have to face her. None the less, focusing on the task at hand he took a step towards her. Sansa looked up at him like a startled rabbit at his sudden approach, and almost dropped her cup.

Setting it down after her fumble, she tried to school her features into what she thought was a calm and welcoming expression. To Petyr, it looked more like a grimace. Reaching around for ways to reassure her, instead of continuing to approach, he went to sit down on the other side of the bed, away from Sansa. The moment he sat down, she stood up, and started to pace nervously back and fourth at the foot of the bed.

After watching her turmoil for a few moments, and when he was quite sure that Sansa was again focused on him instead of her obvious avoidance tactics, Petyr patted the bed next to him. Hesitating for just a second, Sansa reluctantly sat down.

"I'm not going to hurt you Sansa" he said quietly His tone was even gentler than she had ever heard it, which took her by surprise.

Petyr could see how nervous she was. Now he'd stepped out of the shadows and he could see her pale face properly he could see that she was as white as a sheet against her flaming red hair, and that she'd been worrying her lip so much it had started to bleed. He lifted his thumb to wipe away the blood that had started to seep from her bottom lip but she recoiled at his touch.

"Sansa." She had been refusing to look at him since she'd sat down, even as he said her name again. Instead he reached down to take her hand in his, holding onto it even when she tried to pull it away.

"I am yours and you are mine, from this day till the end of my days" he reminded her.

"You're my wife Sansa, and whatever you may think of me I'm no monster." Her eyes were still downcast, so instead of pressing further he dropped her hand and stood up from the bed.

"I'll be in my study down the hall if you need me."

To Sansa's surprise he then lent down and kissed her gently on the forehead, before leaving the room without another word. She could hear him instructing the guards through the door to their chamber that his wife was not to be disturbed while she slept.

Now she was alone, Sansa no longer felt afraid. If anything, she felt disappointed in herself. Whether she liked it or not she was now married to Petyr Baelish, and she had to make the most of the situation she now found herself in. She did not know if Littlefinger was her friend, but she also did not know if he was her enemy and she needed to spend more time with him to figure that out.

He had not been unkind to her, she mused. She thought about the kind smile he had bestowed upon her the moment they had been pronounced husband and wife, and the attentive hand he had rested on her arm, and on the small of her back throughout the dinner that had followed.

But had that all not been for show?

Sansa needed evidence. She needed to find out why she had been married off to Lord Baelish, because surely the only thing on Cersi's mind when she had made the match could not only have been to pack Sansa off the the Vale and away from Kings Landing?

If she was going to find out the truth, Sansa had to play her part.

Unbidden, Sansa lifted her fingertips to the spot on her forehead where Lord Baelish had just kissed her.

This was certainly not how she'd expected her wedding night to go.

Three months worth of accounts copied across into his ledger later, Petyr heard a faint knocking coming from his study door. The candles were burning low and he'd been staring at the same set of figures on the page for who knows how long.

The door opened and Sansa appeared, looking very unsure of herself. Petyr rose up from his desk, instinctively closing the heavy book he'd been working on with a quiet thunk.

"Sansa?" He'd not expected to see her again until morning. "Is everything quite alright?"

"Are you coming to bed?" She asked the question so quietly that Petyr was not quite sure if he'd heard her properly. She still looked nervous, but otherwise her expression was completely unreadable. He stayed silent, looking curiously at Sansa in a way that forced her to continue.

"I was just wondering if you were coming to bed, husband?" Her eyes flicked to the low cot in the corner of the room where Petyr usually grabbed a few hours sleep when he was working late. He followed her gaze. She'd correctly surmised what he'd planned by way of sleeping arrangements.

"It is, after all our wedding night, and people will talk if we spend the night apart." For the second time that evening, Petyr's perception of his new wife completely changed. He inclined his head towards her and set to blow out what remained of his candles before following her out into the shadowy hallway. She did not flinch at his touch again when he slipped his arm around her waist at the sound of footsteps in the passageway behind them.

One they reached their chamber, Petyr again noted a remarkable change in his wives demeanour. Earlier that evening, Sansa had practically recoiled when he simply come close to her. Now, she boldly walked towards her side of the great bed and, still wearing the long cotton night shift he'd found her in, slipped between the sheets, obviously expecting him to follow suit.

She watched him, almost transfixed as he unbuttoned and removed his doublet, unlaced his breeches and quickly removed them so that he was left in a similar state of undress. Mimicking her actions, he slipped into bed beside her, making sure that there was a good distance between them beneath the sheets. Once he had settled down, Sansa turned over so that her back was towards him.

The last thought that Petyr had before drifting off to sleep beside his wife was that maybe, perhaps, she might just surprise him.

Reviews would be lovely, not just for criticism, but encouragement always helps!