In the depth of Petyr's room, Sansa slowly unlaced her bodice. She looked at Petyr, who was lying on his side, and staring at her lustfully; as she wove her fingers in between the material, she slowly walked towards him. He started to move towards her, and quickly stood. As his feet met the ground and his hands grabbed her waist, turning Sansa around and pushing her on to her back, leaning over her small form. Petyr moved his fingers with hers, and masterfully removed her clothes. His breath hitched though, when he saw her breasts. They had doubled in size, and all he could do was stare. Sansa sat up, looking at him nervously; she began to cover her chest. Petyr's eyes held the unasked question, and Sansa squirmed out of his grip.

She started towards the table, pouring herself a glass of mare's milk. Petyr walked to wards her, his gaze not leaving her form. The room suddenly became smaller, and Sansa could feel her supper bubbling in her stomach; threatening to appear at any point. "What is going on?" Petyr's voice asked with suspicion. "I am not quite sure what you mean, Petyr," she replied, using his given name carefully. He stepped closer to her, a dangerous flash appearing in his eyes. That was when Sansa knew the contents of her stomach wouldn't stay there for very long. She quickly put her goblet down behind her, and ran through the doors to her right. The chamber pot was the only thing that caught her eye; she sprinted towards it, and doubled over heavily, vomiting. Little did she realise that Petyr tore after her as soon as she moved, he almost went unnoticed. She only took note of his presence when he pulled her hair over her head, and rubbed soothing circles in her back.

When nothing else was available for Sansa to expel violently, she sat back and was handed a cup of water by Petyr. She sloshed the liquid around her mouth, and spit it into the chamber pot. "I'm terribly sorry you had to witness such a vile thing, especially when you just returned," her small voice said. "Nonsense, 'tis a natural thing I suppose." She looked up, and was greeted by his awaiting hand; to which she took and pulled herself up. Petyr's hands met her waist, and Sansa could tell he would not let her go, until she spoke. He looked down at her, worry his eyes, as well as a hint of suspicion. "I don't know how to put this Sweetling. But, your breasts have increased in size remarkably. A growth spurt perhaps?" He asked, knowing full well that that wasn't the case.

Her face was blank, though her eyes shouted worry. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. "You didn't slip moontea into my drinks by any chance did you?" She said, her voice faltering. This was the first time Petyr's face was completely open, the shock was written all over his face. His lips were trying to form words, but all he managed were syncopated stutters. Sansa took all of her courage, and said loudly, looking into his eyes, "I'm with child, Petyr." His hands dropped from her waist, and he embraced her gently. His left hand laid on her stomach, as he smiled into her shoulder. "Thankyou," he said softly. Sansa brought her hands to his shoulders and gently pushed herself away, looking into his eyes. Her tears were the first thing he noticed, and her voice was just as shaky. "What are we going to do?" Petyr grabbed her face in his hands; and said simply, "We will get through this."

"Petyr, there is the other option, I'm sure it would be easy to just drink the tea and forget about this." His voice suddenly became hostile, and he stepped away from her. "You will not terminate my child. Hoster Tully did that once, and denied me of being a father, I will not have that happen again." He stated with finality. Sansa looked like she was going to cry again. "You mean that you want the baby?! I thought you didn't!" He returned to her again, and took her face into his hands. "I want it more than anything," he spoke softly and began to caress her face. "Shall we retire to bed?" She asked, and Sansa smiled weakly. The bed was warm, and Petyr was still wide awake thinking. 'I will be a father, I will have someone to cherish, as well as it's mother. No one will hurt them,' he thought. Sansa was sleeping, her deep breaths made her stomach rise and fall in rhythm. Petyr gently put his hand on top of her abdomine, and fell asleep, thinking about his oncoming child.


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