XxX
For the next week Sansa was confined to their bed, her body recovering from the miscarriage and her anger simmering for the time being. Petyr had his larger desk moved into their room, though he spent most all of his time sitting on the bed with her, his papers spread about and his small portable desk in his lap.
Sansa couldn't help but smile when she saw his doting nature come out. He had completely given up any attempts to hide his fondness from her and was consumed by his need to tend to her wellbeing. Servants were redundant for Petyr took care of whatever she could need and more.
He would make a great father, she thought, her heart stuttered and paused her hand which had been sewing.
"Are you alright?" Petyr asked, the nerves slipping into his voice as he looked up. He tried his best to conceal his worry but couldn't.
"Yes, quite." She masked with a quick smile, resuming her work.
"May I ask what you are working on?"
Sansa held the piece close to her chest, concealing it from view, "No, it's a surprise."
Petyr just shook his head, a smile on his lips, and returned to his business.
"It's something to show that no matter what, they can't break us." Sansa hinted in a whisper, as if it were a grand secret she wanted him to guess at, and turned back to her sewing, "They tried to and their move has only strengthened us; we will prevail no matter what they throw at us."
He looked back up, watching her for a while. She was a Stark through and through; a fighter until the end. The only difference between her and those is her House was that she kept her head about her, a trait the males in her line severely lacked.
With my cleverness and her spirit we will truly be a force to be reckoned with, he thought triumphantly, Nothing can break us.
Another week passed rather quietly, and then the raven came.
"We are summoned back to King's Landing." Petyr lounged against the bedpost, his brow stressed as he read the short note.
Her pulse jolted, "W-when do we leave?" She asked, trying to keep her mask in place.
Petyr saw through her in an instant, but let her pretend she had fooled him as he folded the note and stowed it in his pocket, "A couple days' time, enough to ready the ship. The maester said you will be able to make the trip without any danger to your health. By the time we reach King's Landing you should be well enough to take up small tasks around the house and such but he wants you to take it easy for a while." He stepped towards her and gently brushed back a few loose strands from her face, "I don't think we should tell anyone else about the miscarriage, not just yet anyway. I want to test the waters before we decide how to proceed."
She nodded that she understood as he moved to his desk.
After a while, Sansa wrinkled her nose, her thoughts turning, "Where will we live?"
He rose a brow, turning to her with crossed arms as he tried to figure out what she meant, "I assumed in King's Landing, but if you have a better—"
"No, I mean will we have to live in your…brothel? I don't want to stay in your quarters at the castle anymore. It's too close to them." She replied, her face etched with disdain, "I don't need anything else snuck into my meals."
"I can secure us alternative living quarters." Petyr replied, his eyes watching her in intense study. She turned back to her work, finishing off a final stitch and muttering something to herself.
"Do you wish me to give up the trade?" He asked, curious what her answer would be.
Her hand froze and her eyes slowly lifted, "What would you say if I said that is what I want?" She answered in step, matching his wit.
"Then I would tell you the truth; it would be a risky move since we would lose most all of our little birds and the secrets they bring. It would be giving up considerable ground in the Game, placing us a step behind most, and take quite a bit out of our pockets, though I know you could care less about the monetary aspect. But, if that is what you truly want, I will close my doors and send all those I employ away."
Her eyes narrowed, testing whether this was a trick or not. Was he passively trying to sway her to his side? Or did he mean what he said?
"Sansa," Petyr moved to kneel by her feet, his hand resting on hers, "If that is what you want, then tell me and I will close it down."
She smirked, figuring his move out, "You are only saying that because you can see the religious fever getting ready to spread across the city." She chuckled, knowing her husband too well, and let her eyes wander slyly to his face.
Petyr inclined his head, a silent touché, "That would make it easier, of course. But I stand by what I said; I want to make you happy."
"Keep your whores, they will prove useful in the end. I refuse to give up so much ground simply for my uneasiness with the business. We have to stay ahead of them from now on, we can't afford any more…missteps."
He watched her, testing if any softness or innocence was left in the shattered girl. But she wasn't a girl any longer; she had seen the death of most of her family in her short life, been on the receiving end of so much cruelty, and had her child taken from her in the night. All of which had stolen the remaining pieces of her innocence from her.
No, she was no longer a girl but a woman. A woman scored and out for blood. Nothing, not even her morals, would stop her from exacting her vengeance for her lost child. Part of him mourned the loss of her childish naivety and the other stood in awe of her embracing the power she held; if only she wouldn't lose who she was to the Game like he had all those years ago.
Her bright eyes darted to his, a dark touch on her lips, and brought him back to the present, "But do remember that you are my husband; never bring even the thought of them to our bed or Varys will have someone to commiserate with." The unnecessary threat was clear as new glass and he could see that her emotions were the driving force behind them, not her reason.
Direwolves, quite possessive creatures, he thought amused, knowing it was a promise she would keep good on.
"I have sworn to you before, I do so again now, upon the old gods and the new—"
Sansa waved away his flowery words, "Swear not upon the changing gods or your dead, bastard king, not even your money, titles, or honor. I know that those are fleeting and you never take your oaths upon them seriously. You have lied on them too many times, hoping they would give credence to your claim and false vows."
"What do you wish for me to swear upon, my lady?" He inquired, quite taken by her force. Of course he had meant the vows beneath the Godswood and his pride was wounded by her accusation. Did she really think so little of his word?
Her eyes met his boldly and he felt exposed, his soul open as if a book to be studied and read by all, "Swear upon me."
Petyr pulled back, caught off guard.
"I know where I stand with you; swear upon our vows beneath the Heart Tree, upon my life. Only then will I know you mean what you say." She held her head, feeling the truth behind her words. Never had she trusted anything more than what she felt in that moment. She had been deceived enough by life but this she knew to be the truth above all truths; she was the only thing which meant anything to the skilled player. She was his only weakness.
"I so swear, my lady." Petyr bowed his head, mimicking a knight, and slowly raised it again. His eyes flickered to the work in her lap, "Now, since I have sworn my allegiance to you alone my lady wife, may I see what you have been working so fervently on this past week?"
Sansa's smile grew, her mood that of a summer storm which appears just as quickly as it disappears, leaving a trail of blue sky in its grey wake. She set aside her things and reached for a folded tunic on her bedside, "It is a gift." She handed it to him and moved to sit beside him like an excited child, "Go on, open it."
Grinning like a boy, he did as he was told and held up the fabric to catch the light.
"Do you like it?" Her giddiness was echoed in her voice as she bounced nervously, her teeth worrying her lower lip.
Petyr gazed in awe at the piece, a beautiful sigil stitched above the heart of it. It wasn't his claimed mockingbird, though, but a mix of his and Sansa's. A direwolf and mockingbird, stitched in black, lying almost camouflaged atop an intricate trinity of silver twists. It was like a rose protected by its thorns; no one could touch the pair, who sat back to back so as to watch over the other, beneath their silvery shield.
"I figured since you are a man of your own making and I am of a traitorous House, it would be best if we could both start anew. A new start, as it were, with a new sigil." Sansa hurried to explain, her face growing concerned at his quietness.
"Sansa, I—"
"You don't like it?" She breathed, her face frowning.
"No, no, that is not it at all. I—" He looked at her, hoping his appreciation would show where his words failed. A tenderness etched onto his face; knowing no one had ever showed him such love before. No one had ever wanted him before; the thought scared him as much as it touched him.
Her smile lit up, reading the open heart in his eyes, "I'm working on a cloak for myself." She moved back and picked up the thick, blue fabric she had set aside and held it out to be admired, "I figured you might want to keep yours more discrete, considering your line of work, but I don't want too. I want to show them that they can't break me."
He nodded absentmindedly, taking in the beauty of her work. Embroidering was a gift neither her mother nor her aunt had; this was a gift the gods had bestowed upon Sansa which was all her own.
"All good Houses have words, have you thought of any?" He finally said, quickly looking up to her.
Sansa crinkled her nose as she thought, "I haven't."
"What about…" He gently figured the intricate stitching of her cloak, imagining the fury it would spark within the Red Keep, "'Nothing can break us'?"
Her face instantly lit up, "Perfect! Absolutely perfect!"
"House Stark and Baelish come together; never would I have thought to see the day." Petyr smirked, embracing the ironic nature of life.
"An unbreakable alliance." She smiled playfully, finding her hope again.
Petyr looked up to meet her softening eyes, catching a glimpse of the young girl he had once known, "Aye, and one to be reckoned with."
XxX
The seas were rough as they made their way back to King's Landing. The tumultuous storm mirrored that of the one raging within the beauty resting in the vessel's depths.
As they drew closer to the Iron Throne, Petyr saw what little softness Sansa had left evaporate. Her heart hardened to steel as they returned to the place that had been her prison for so long.
The price of playing the Game, Petyr thought as he leaned against the rail, the salty air brushing through his hair and against his face, She is trying to find a way to guard herself from ever being hurt again.
Never would he have thought someone could break through his walls as easily as Sansa had; the pawn had become his partner and he would do anything for her, become anything she needed.
That thought shook him to his very core, but it wasn't because he was asked to be something he wasn't. No, Sansa was pushing him to reach his full potential.
A boy of no means and who everyone had always said was worthless now found meaning in her encouragement and fighting spirit. No longer did he feel a need to prove himself; to gather wealth and titles to show that he belonged and was worth something. He was quite content with his one ship and the beautiful wife who gave him his place in this world.
His hand ghosted over his scar, concealed by the vest he wore, and ended up pressed against his heart, where his new sigil lay.
A small smile brushed his lips and his eyes wandered out over the open sea, I feel like a new man with a new goal. Today is bright and tomorrow will be brighter still.
What Petyr didn't know was that as he was finding his purpose, his small wife was hidden within the shadowy hull of the ship as a battle of dark thoughts raged on inside her.
Anger consumed her and bitterness kept her company, the loss of the child overwhelming her with an unquenchable thirst for revenge.
So this is what Cersei meant when she said we can't help but love our children, she thought with a scowl as her movements grew harsh.
His name was going to be Daragh, after the oak tree which bound his mother and father as one. He was going to be of a darker appearance than his mother, who looked almost sun kissed compared to the rest of her wintery family.
How dare anyone take that away from her; whoever had a hand in it would pay dearly.
With a frustrated sigh, Sansa closed her eye and leaned her head back; the image was so real she could almost see his piercing silvery eyes looking up at her as he played by her feet.
Tears stung her eyes and slipped through her thick lashes, her anger giving way to pain. Her body might have healed but her heart was a long way from being whole again.
"Focus on your work." She chided herself, shaking her head as she sat up, "You don't want to ruin it. Focus on what you need to do." She said, knowing she was talking about things far beyond the cloak now.
Sansa poured herself into her work for the next hour and pride stirred within her as she held up her finished cloak, the last stitch complete. The sigil pair was embroidered in silver and black, appearing bold against the darkness of the fabric.
"Nothing can break us." She whispered the words proudly, fingering her work and wondering if she should add the words. Slowly she stood and pulled the cloak over her shoulders, her steps turning in the sunlight and embracing the peaceful warm it offered.
To live in the past is to waste the present, you must keep going forward, the wisdom stirred deep within her and, while she didn't know where she had first heard the words, she embraced them as her own as she overcame the darkness which had trapped her for so long. Of course this was only one battle in the war, but she would continue to overcome it little by little until she was the victor of her inner demons.
Petyr, who had come down to check on his little bride, paused on the steps and looked on in awe. She only grew more beautiful with each day that passed; like an artist's masterpiece, more was revealed to him the longer he studied her.
"You have an amazing talent, my little pawn." Petyr said quietly, not wishing to startle her as she stopped and gazed into the mirror.
Her eyes shifted and met those of his reflection, "Thank you, Petyr."
The familiarity warmed his heart, knowing he would never tire of hearing his given name on her tongue, and he started into the room, stopping behind her to admire the work up close, "Splendid work. I think I might have you make one for me."
"You aren't worried about tempting them to separate us anymore?" Sansa followed his line of sight to her work, speaking her thoughts aloud.
He quickly looked up to her, "I would like to see them try."
"I wouldn't." She shuttered, knowing what the Lannisters were capable of.
"Are you worried they might succeed?" Petyr asked quietly.
Her eyes sharply looked up to his, "Never. I just don't want to be on the receiving end of any more of their cruelty. I refuse to lose another child so that they can continue in the Game."
Petyr nodded slowly and reached up to caress her tired face, the purple bruises, reminders of her continued night fits, lingering under her beautiful eyes.
I pray to every god that they might allow you another child, he thought, resting his head against hers, To return just a piece of your innocence back and give you joy.
"I won't let that happen." He promised, "I have already secured us alternative living quarters and my little birds are keeping their ears open for any further plots."
Sansa sighed and leaned into his touch, her body snuggling against his. Petyr wrapped his arm protectively around her and tried to ignore the stirring within him as his body recalled how long it had been since he had fully shared her bed. For years he had gone without feeling any desire for intimacy; now his thoughts were consumed by a need to feel her close.
A woman's intuition had a smile tugging at Sansa's lips, "Thank you for being so patient with me."
He smiled into her hair, knowing exactly what she meant, and took in the sweetness of her smell, "It is no trouble at all. Besides, it's easier to just watch each other's back without adding an additional one." Petyr offered as he pulled back, not wishing to tempt himself any further.
Of course his tone had given away his sorrow for the lost child but he was still torn as to whether to tell her that he shared in her pain or to keep it to himself so as not to bring it up and cause her further agony.
He hadn't had as long as Sansa had to grow attached to the idea of a child of their own but that didn't mean his longing to see the best pieces of themselves gifted to a beautiful babe wasn't as strong as hers.
Sansa rested her hands atop his and sighed, her eyes wandering out to the sea which drew them closer and closer to King's Landing with each day, "Petyr?"
"Yes?"
"I…" Bashfully she turned her head towards him, keeping her eyes lowered, "I love you."
He cupped her face, his smile having never been brighter, as he looked to her eyes to see the spoken words come to life. He wasn't disappointed.
"P-Petyr…" Her voice was softer than any whisper and her eyes looked anywhere but his face as an uneasiness etched into her delicate features, "What if…what if I can never…"
"Shh, shh, my little one." Petyr smiled, his thumb stoking circles into her warmed cheek. With a quiet sigh, he leaned his forehead against hers, "There is nothing I need more in this world than you. I would give my life and everything I have achieved in the Game and anything I could possibly gain in it to save you. You have to know that. I do not blame you for the child's passing; I only give thanks to the gods that they were kind enough to let you live through it."
Sansa's pulse began to race, a small smile growing on her lips as he said the words she most needed to hear.
As a girl she dreamed of hearing those words of affirmation from a knight in shining white armor. Oh, how naïve had she been.
Only now did she realize that a knight in shining armor was nothing more than a man who hadn't seen battle and knew only how to spin great tales with his tongue; Joffrey would fall in this category. An honorless arse who had money to buy shiny metal to build his armor but no courage to put it to the test.
No, her knight had been to battle and his armor was dulled and dented by all the tests it had withstood. Only a man of valor could take so many hits and still be standing.
She herself had seen the price Petyr had paid to keep going in the Game, to just survive on his own in this world, and now here he was saying he would give it all up for her.
A knight in shining armor was nothing more than a boy; her mockingbird was a man. Of course he hadn't always played for honor – what man truly had? – but he was now, and that made all the difference.
"You will never leave me?" Sansa breathed, her eyes showing the fear she hid deep inside of her.
Petyr firmly took hold of her head, lowering his so he could look her straight in the eye. He could see the ghosts of her family pass before her dulling sea orbs. The girl had been abandoned one time too many by the people she had loved and trusted; not just her family but the Lannisters and other Houses in the Game. The fear of abandonment would be a demon she was not soon to overcome. Maybe one day, on her own, she could, but not this one. Today she needed him to fight for her.
"Never will I leave you. Until my dying breath and even after, I will stand by you." He swore, his eyes hardening to an unwavering grey stone, "On our vows beneath the Heart Tree in the Red Keep, I will never betray you or stray from your side. I will watch over you and protect you from this day until my last. You are mine, and I am yours."
"You are mine, and I am yours." She repeated the words in a breathless whisper, tears tracing down her face as she brought her hand up to cover his, "And I will watch over you as a direwolf does for any member in her pack."
"I wish I could say the same for my sigil, but mine holds much less weight than yours." He smiled, coaxing one out of her along with a taste of her musical laughter, "I'm afraid all I can do is sing you a song."
"And you can't carry a tone to save your life at that." She continued to giggle, wiping away her tears.
Petyr's brow knit, not sure if he had ever sung around her but not willing to take away her joy.
"You hum while you work and it is always off pitch." She explained, moving to rest her hands on the waist of his coat and hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder. Sansa felt untouchable in that moment; nothing could break her with Petyr by her side.
Petyr savored the moment a while longer before he fingered the thick cloak she still wore, "Shall you wear this when we enter King's Landing or do you have a particular moment you are saving it for?"
"No, I will be wearing it when we reach port." Sansa stood back and picked up the edges, crafting them into wings, and spun around, "I want Cersei to know she will never be able to cage me again. This little dove—" Her nose wrinkled at the pet name, "—of hers has broken free of her and has no intent on returning. Ever!"
Petyr leaned back, giving into the merriment, and smiled, "Ahh, little pawn, fly as high as you can and as far away as you can to keep the joy you have found. Never let any of us take it from you."
"Only if I get to take my mockingbird with me." She quipped back, her eyes bright and having forgotten their ghosts for now, "Will you go with me?"
"Always."
XxX
The menacing, golden towers of King's Landing came into view early the next morning. Petyr and Sansa stood on the desk, leaning out over the rail and feeling the cool breeze of the sea.
"Are you ready?" Petyr asked, looking to her from the corner of his eye. She was dressed in a victorious blue to match the new cloak. Her was hair braided in a Northern style with silver ribbon throughout, casting her a crown of fire and ice. Her head was held high, as if preparing for battle.
His eyes lingered for a time on the mockingbird cuff she wore and he smiled, knowing she had accepted him as hers.
"With you by my side, I am." She answered, looking in that moment to need no one put herself. Petyr smiled, though, appreciating her words.
"You are not wearing your brooch." Sansa commented, her eyes still locked on the castle.
"I am going to have a new one crafted once we are back in the city of our new sigil."
Sansa nodded, her thoughts turning, "Did you choose the mockingbird because of the business of secrets you took up?" She inquired curiously, "You give it up with such ease, I'm not sure I could do the same."
Petyr's hand lightly tapping the rail, "No. Actually, it holds great meaning for me."
Sansa turned fully to him, expecting him to continue.
"My mother used to love the woods around the Fingers and, every night, just as the sun was setting, she would take me on a walk beneath the grand trees to hear the song of the mockingbirds. They were her favorites. She—she used to call me her little mockingbird." Petyr smiled at the memory, amazed that he had forgotten it until her question. It was the first time he had shared it with anyone else, not even Cat knew of the true reason behind his chosen sigil.
Sansa reached out and snuck her hand other his, giving it a caring squeeze, "Was she beautiful?"
"Quite." He looked to her with youthful eyes, taken back to his childhood in an instant. Petyr let his eyes wandered back out to the water as he reminisced, the port growing closer and closer.
"I have ordered a carriage to be brought for you. Our new accommodations are on the north side of the city and I do not wish you to tire, there should be room enough for Rook's cage to be carried with you. I will send you on with the luggage and catch up later, the house should be in order already and there will be someone waiting there to help unload things."
"Why won't you join us?" Sansa asked, her brow furrowed.
"I was ordered to bring news of the young lord Robin to the Hand of the King the instant we returned."
"Then I will go with you." Sansa replied, her jaw set.
Petyr began to shake his head, "Sansa—"
"I will go with you." Her eyes locked with his, letting him know he would not win.
"I am supposed to go quietly." He countered.
Sansa leaned forward, "Then we won't take the carriage."
"Sansa—"
"My body is fine, I have ceased bleeding and the maester said I would be well enough to take on small tasks by the time I reach the Red Keep. A walk will do no harm."
Calls sounded throughout the ship as they anchored and began tying off.
"Besides," Sansa smirked at Petyr, knowing she had triumphant, as one of the men offered her a hand, "I want them to see my new cloak."
Petyr held onto the rigging, watching her walk on with grace, and shook his head. A couple of the crew had ceased their working to watch the small quarrel between the two.
"A little advice, gentleman." Petyr called with a light tone to his voice, moving with ease onto the plank as he watched his wife continue down the dock, "Never marry a Stark, they only bring you trouble."
The captain burst out with a deep laugh and the crew followed suit.
"Aye, but are they worth it, my lord?" An old seaman called.
Petyr looked after his fierce direwolf and nodded, "Aye, they are."
XxX
Cersei was poised by her window, lazily leaning against the cool stone. With a drink in hand, she smirked, "It seems our little dove won't allow her wings to be so easily clipped." She mused aloud, seeing the pair appear over the horizon. Sansa kept close to Littlefinger's side, her arm entwined with his, and chatted comfortably in his ear as they made their way to the castle. It was as if the gods themselves were sewing the two together before her eyes; one life, one heart. Nothing looked as if it could separate them.
Everyone has a weakness, a point at which they will break their word. I will find that cornerstone and smash it before they can build up their fortress any further, Cersei thought darkly.
"Why are you so interested in tearing down the poor girl? You treat her as if she is the cause of all your suffering." Jaime asked, lounging in his chair with his feet propped on the table and drink in hand, "Is she really that significant?"
"She is the Key to the North." Cersei chided, turning sharply to her twin, "We only gave her to Littlefinger in hopes that it would lessen his thirst for power and give us an in to what he had planned."
"You really thought she would play for your side?" Jaime chuckled, unable to believe his sister, "She despises the Lannister name."
"Our side. And, I don't need her to like me; I just need her to crush him."
Jaime reached for the wine to refill his goblet, "And, how do you propose we do that, sister?"
"There are ways, dear brother." Her eyes darted to Jaime, admiring the handsomeness he still held as a knight, before looking back to the older player and his young pawn, "There are ways."
XxX
Petyr patted Sansa's hand, which rested in the crook of his arm, as they started up the last steps, "Tywin will wish to speak to me privately, are you going to be alright alone for a few minutes? I will make sure to be quick."
Taking a steadying breath, Sansa nodded.
The guards stepped up and opened the door as the pair entered the throne room. The youngest of the two posted looked after Sansa with a touch of lust to his eyes but he was quickly corrected and hurried to resume his station when he caught sight of the sigil embroidered boldly on her back.
Petyr leaned into her, his lips almost buried in her hair as he whispered quietly, "I think I will have to have you make me one of those cloaks; it inspires much more fear than my mockingbird. It was a brilliant idea, combining the two, and amazingly executed. Very well done, my little pawn."
Sansa gifted Petyr a small smile and lightly squeezed his arm, blushing at the praise.
"Ahh, Lord and Lady Baelish." Tywin stood off to the side of the looming Iron Throne, dressed in black, "I trust you had a safe trip?"
"Indeed, Lord Tywin, it was a very pleasant journey." Petyr inclined his head in respect.
"I hope you bring good news with you? It has been quite a dark time since you left."
"I bring excellent news."
"That is wonderful to hear." Came a third voice, one Sansa knew all too well and could barely stiffen a shudder at.
Cersei came from the shadows of the corridor and stopped by the small group, her red dress menacingly pooling around her like the blood of her enemies, "My Lady Baelish, you are as radiant as ever. Marriage suits you." Sansa could hear the torment dripping in her voice but she took comfort in the protection her new name held. Cersei could never touch her again.
"Indeed, my lady. I couldn't have asked for a better husband than Lord Baelish." Sansa turned to her, reaching out and gently touching her husband's arm, "The gods have blessed me in abundance."
Petyr smiled down to his wife, who returned the gesture, as he tucked his hands into his pocket, trying to hide his sheepishness at the unaccustomed praise he was receiving before the Hand of the King and the Queen Regent.
"Quite." Cersei said through her teeth, her eyes darting between the pair, "I pray they bless you with many sons." She chanced, seeing if she could strike a nerve.
"Oh, they will." Sansa smiled, her chin held high and thanking the gods that Cersei knew nothing about her miscarriage, "And daughters too. We just have to give it more time; I have heard it can take a while to fill your house with little ones. It took my own mother a year before she was with her first child."
Cersei wrinkled her brow, her nose twitched, "Is that a new cloak?"
"Yes, I made it myself." Sansa stepped back and turned around, showing off its beauty, "I had to do something to keep busy while at the Eyrie. I can only play in the snow for so long."
"That is quite a…talented little wife you have there, Lord Baelish." Tywin offered, a brow raised as he looked at the young girl and the new sigil on her back. His eyes flitted back to his fellow player, questioning just how much sway the girl held over him.
"Indeed. It seems I have been blessed by the gods as well."
Tywin turned to him with a bemused look, "I didn't take you as a religious man?"
"Amazing what can happen when one settles down." Petyr replied in step, his famous smirk in place.
The Hand of the King inclined his head, "Indeed. Well, shall we discuss your report in private?"
Petyr let his worried eyes dart to Sansa, who continued to smile despite the fear that erupted within her.
"No need to worry about your lady wife, Lord Baelish." All in the room turned to look at the newcomer.
Jaime smiled as he walked down the stairs, his golden hand cradled in the other, "The Tyrells just sent word that they are hoping for a short visit before you leave for your new residence. I offered to escort the Lady Baelish there myself."
Oh, the Tyrells sent a servant? Where have I heard that before? Sansa thought darkly as she worked to keep her eyes from narrowing.
A brilliant smile brushed her lips, impressing all those who watched her, "That is very kind of you, Ser Jaime." She turned back to Petyr and quickly took his hand, "I will meet you outside after you are done, my lord. The sun will do me some good." Her eyes spoke the words she couldn't; letting him know she would be alright.
Petyr gave a quick nod and reluctantly released her hand as she took it back. Tucking her hands into her sleeves, she started towards the door with Jaime following respectfully behind her.
XxX
Jaime let his eyes quietly linger on the young Stark, who was looking around the garden to see what had changed, "Did you enjoy your time at the Eyrie?" He asked, his eyes darting to her new cloak and smirking.
What a strong little one she has turned out to be, he thought amused.
"Quiet. I have missed the snow." She answered politely.
They continued on for a ways, their feet familiar with the old paths.
"I must have you make a cloak for me with the Lannister crest, your work is stunning." Jaime complimented, eyeing the skilled stitches.
"It would cost you a pretty penny." Sansa replied, a soft smirk on her lips.
Jaime looked to her, caught up by her nature, "You sell your work for pennies?"
"No, I sell my work for 200 Gold Dragons and two pennies." She jested, letting her eyes playfully shift to the side.
She had heard of the great Jaime Lannister and his flirtations with women who were too stupid to know they could never have one of the King's Guard. Sansa wasn't interested in his attention but she was tempted to test her hand at manipulating others.
"Fair enough when you factor in the fabric, thread, and time." He rose a brow, "When can I put my order in?"
"As soon as I have the Dragons in hand. You can give me the pennies after I have the finished product for you." Sansa toyed, keeping her eyes forward and head high, proud of how far she had come.
"I can deliver them to you tonight, my lady. Will you be joining us for dinner?"
"No, my husband and I will be taking a down night at home to recover from our long journey and ready our new home."
"It must be so dull to have an infirm husband, one that is twice your age and as boring as a book. Do you not get to do anything fun anymore?"
Sansa scoffed, keeping her eyes easy and tongue silent all the while wanting to tell him off using every word she had learned aboard Petyr's ship.
"Come now." Jaime hopped in front of her, stuttering her steps, "His wealth is blinding but it can only distract you so much from his homely appearance and greying temples. Truly, he can't be that good of company?"
She hid behind her smile, understanding now why Petyr had not given her a dagger, "H-he takes care of me." She stuttered, adding authenticity to her Game and knowing anything she said would find its way back to Cersei. Inwardly she smiled, knowing she could have a bit of fun with this.
"Littlefinger only takes care of himself." Jaime replied with a roll of his eyes, his voice sickly sweet, "The sooner you learn that, the better off you will be."
"What would you advise then, Ser Jaime?" Sansa stepped around him and continued on, knowing the Tyrells small alcove would be just around the next corner.
"Find someone who can look out for you." He called, staying where he was and watching her go, "An old mockingbird will never be able to protect you like—"
Sansa turned around, making sure her new crest could still be seen, "Like a lion?"
He inclined his head smugly, letting his intrigue spark in his eyes, "My lady."
She returned with a perfect curtsy, "My lord." Sansa continued on, feeling like she had held her own quite well, "Oh, and do remember your payment the next time we meet."
"I will." Jaime called after her, sad to see his playmate go.
Sansa's steps hurried once she was around the corner and her eyes started looking all around for Margaery, who she found almost instantly tending to her roses.
"Sansa!"
The girl rushed toward her and flung herself into her arms, not caring who saw. Tears began to well up, her strength waning in the protective arms of her friend.
"Shh, shh, love. You are safe here." Margaery cooed, brushing her hair, "Let us sit." The almost-queen dismissed her ladies and led Sansa to a seat by her grandmother.
"Would you care for some lemon tarts?" Olenna offered, her face gentle as she held out the plate.
"No, thank you. I can't stay long, Petyr is giving Lord Tywin a report of our trip and he said it wouldn't take long." Sansa explained, drying her eyes as she found her smile. Nothing was more healing than being in the company of true friends.
"You must join us for the mid-meal tomorrow. We have so much to catch up on!" Margaery reached out and gently took her hand, stealing a smile from the girl.
Olenna leaned back in her chair, her old, crooked finger tapping her once petal like lips as she studied the girl, "Your cloak is new, as is the crest on the back."
Margaery knitted her brow, caught off guard by her grandmother.
"Will you turn for us, child?"
Sansa beamed with pride as she stood and turned around, showing off her work.
"My gods, what a glorious piece!" Olenna gasped, taking in the beauty of the cloak, "Much more awe inspiring than our damn rose!"
"Ser Jaime as already requested that I make one for him with his House crest."
Olenna smirked and leaned back, knowing not to underestimate the girl, "And what did you say?"
"That I would be happy to, for 200 Gold Dragons." Sansa smiled triumphantly.
"You must make one for me!" Margaery cooed, standing up to admire the piece closer, "Do you think you could do one of a Rose and Stag? I am tired of the Lion and Stag. If the former Queen can mesh her House crest with her husbands, why not I?"
"Of course, just tell me which colors you would like." Sansa smiled, coming to life under the fawning attention.
"Blue and silver on a purple cloak." Margaery fired off, her eyes that of an excited child. She took both of Sansa's hands in hers, "I will need it in time for my wedding. Oh, I am so glad you will be here for this one! I need you by my side!"
Sansa chuckled, giving her friend's hands a loving squeeze, "Very well, I will start on it right away! For now, though, I should be getting back."
"Will we see you for lunch tomorrow?" Olenna asked.
Sansa nodded, "I believe so, yes."
"Until then." Olenna gave a wave and Margaery gave her a hug before they bid goodbye for now.
XxX
Sansa enjoyed the quiet on her walk back to the castle and lounged lazily on a bench in the shade as she awaited Petyr's return, savoring the peace of the moment.
The grand doors opened and Petyr appeared, his eyes frantically searching for her.
With a loving smile, she stood and stepped out into the sunlight, "I am here, Petyr."
His shoulders instantly settled when he laid eyes on her and he hurried down the steps to her side.
"Are you ready to take our leave?" He asked, offering his arm. Sansa nodded and accepted the gesture.
As they began their journey home, her eyes wandered over her shoulders now and then, waiting for when the castle was out of sight. Petyr chattered as they walked on, something about business or the house.
A grin spread on her lips at they took the last turn and the castle disappeared from sight, she hurried to take his hand in hers and rushed towards a hidden corner.
"Sansa, what are—"
She pulled them into a shadowed alcove and silenced him with a loving kiss. Petyr captured her face and deepened the kiss, her body leaning into his.
They pulled apart, resting their head against the others.
"What was that for?" He asked, a cheeky look to his face.
Sansa smiled back up to him, moving his hand to her lips and giving it a chaste kiss, "I want you to know that I missed you." Her eyes fluttered up to gaze at him through her lashes, "I want you to know how happy I am with you and that I truly meant what I said; I couldn't have asked for a better partner than you." She whispered to him, her eyes closed as she dismissed everything Jaime Lannister had said to her, "Truly, I do."
His face beamed, "I should go to meetings more often."
Playfully she wacked his shoulder and they continued on their way; leaning into the others side, like newlyweds often do, as they went on.
XxX
"What do you think?" Petyr asked, his eyes cautiously watching her as she explored their new home. He had found them a small, stone house just a couple streets away from the brothel with a large grassy yard planted in the back and a tree Sansa could pray under.
Sansa smiled as she took a turn of the room, looking at the different pieces, "It is perfect, I don't even remember that I am in King's Landing."
Petyr breathed a sigh of relief, "Very good."
"Where is Rook?" She asked
"In the bedroom."
Sansa's steps started towards the only closed door and carefully opened it. Her eyes looked around in wonder. Simple though it was, it was filled with vibrant colors which the sun caught as it streamed in through the window. The bed was freshly made and Rook was softly cooing in his corner.
"Did Shae bring my things down from the castle?" She asked over her shoulder, trusting Petyr would be there.
Petyr began fidgeting with his cuff as he started into the room after her, "There…there is something I need to tell you."
Sansa tensed, knowing nothing good could follow and already guessing what he meant to say.
"Shae has not been seen in a week, since the night Tyrion escaped."
"He escaped?" Sansa turned sharply on her heel, caught off guard by the news.
Petyr nodded, "Tywin informed me of the events this afternoon."
A soft sigh escaped her mouth as she fell back on the bed, her hands resting on the fresh mattress.
"Does it upset you? That he escaped, that is."
"No, I know Tyrion didn't kill Joffrey." She stated confidently.
Petyr moved closer to the bed, his head inclined curiously, "And, how did you come to this conclusion?"
"It isn't in his nature." She replied, "He's also too smart to poison him at a wedding which he would be attending." Sansa reached up and gently stroked Rook through his cage, "But, someone who was far enough away at the time could have planned it." She turned to him with knowing eyes. "How many murders have you had a hand in, my lord husband?" She asked, a sarcastic note to her voice.
"53." Petyr answered. His stomach twisted, questioning whether now was the time to tell her about her father or not. He moved to the desk in the corner, nervously pulling at his cuff.
"You made a move without me." She replied, the hurt evident in her words.
"I made it long before we began playing together." He defended gently, turning back to her.
"I get to make a move then." She replied, her eyes lingering on her clasped hands.
Petyr gave a nod of his head, "Very well."
"Jaime Lannister and Margaery have asked that I make them cloaks, they will pay me 200 Gold Dragons for them." Sansa said, her voice a whisper, "And I will be meeting with the Tyrells for my mid-day meal tomorrow."
"That is hardly a move, little pawn." Petyr replied easily, moving to lay on the bed; his body tired and his mind weary.
No, now is not the time to tell her, he thought, knowing he didn't want to fight right then.
"I just wanted to let you know what I was planning." She replied, the spite hard not to notice.
Petyr winced but nodded again. His surprise surfaced when she unclasped her cloak, tossing it to the foot of their bed, and joined him.
"You aren't mad at me then?" He asked, wrapping his arm around her and drawing different shapes on her shoulder.
"I am, but not a significant amount." She replied, curling into his side and closing her eyes. The soft sounds of the busy city drifted into the room like whispers as the warm breeze stirred, lulling them into a quiet doze.
"My aunt almost gave you a son." Sansa stated, breaking the peaceful silence.
The line pierced him and Petyr winced, knowing they hadn't talk about Lysa since that night.
Sansa lifted her chin to rest on his shoulder so she could see his face, "Did you know?"
Reluctantly, he nodded, "I found out a couple years after it had happened." Caringly he brushed back her hair.
"Were you devastated?" She asked, resting her head back against his heart and closing her eyes.
"No." He answered.
Sansa rose a brow and kept quiet, hoping he would continue.
"I didn't love Lysa, didn't much like her if I am being honest, and I would have been required to marry her if she had the child." Petyr replied, remembering the possessive way she was and how crazy she could be, "I learned that day to curb any fleshly desires I had; not only because I would chance losing everything I had gained in the Game but because it wasn't worth being with someone I didn't love and never could."
Sansa considered the words and slowly nodded, another question sparked, "Would you hate our child if I died giving birth to him like Lord Tyrion's mother? Lord Tywin always looks at him with such disgust."
Petyr considered the question, "No, I don't think I would since that would be the last piece I would have left of you." He brought his other hand up to hold Sansa tightly to his side, the fear of a life without her stirring his nerves. He buried his head into her hair and muttered, "Another reason I am alright never having children, I don't think I could live without you."
Sansa lit up at his words even as she sighed, "But, don't you want a little piece of you and me running around? A boy you could teach to ride…"
Petyr smirked, thankful for the distraction, "I've never been much of a rider."
"And how to handle a bow and sword?"
"I have never been good at those either."
"Or a little girl with big grey eyes and fiery red hair who we could let marry whoever she wanted to?"
"I think I would like to have some say in who she marries, no Lannisters please."
"Just imagine it, Petyr." Sansa cooed, caught up in her dreams and gazing up at the blank ceiling, painting the scenes out, "Our little brood in our home."
He followed her line of sight and smiled, giving into her daydream, "I guess that wouldn't be too bad."
"Do you know something?" Sansa gave a wicked smile as she looked up.
Petyr returned the look with a smug grin, "I know a lot of things."
Youthful energy spurned her forth and she straddled her husband, her nose nuzzling his, "My septa always told me 'practice makes perfect'."
"I don't think this is what your septa meant." He mumbled as her lips captured his. Petyr didn't need any more encouragement, though, to deepen the kiss and enjoy the afternoon with his bride.
XxX
Petyr was the first to stir, a childish smile on his face. His arm lounged across the bare shoulder of his wife, savoring the warmth of her body against his, as the morning sun shone in.
His thoughts fondly turned over their afternoon, and evening, and night; taking them each to memory.
Sansa shifted, a soft murmur escaping her lips as she woke.
"Good morning, Lord Baelish." She greeted.
Petyr brushed back her mess of hair and kissed her forehead, "Good morning, Lady Baelish."
"What is on your agenda today?" Sansa asked, her finger ghosting a trace over his old scar.
He watched her movements, his chest raising and falling in time, "I need to check in on the business today, see how it fared while I was away, and then I have a small council meeting."
"Will you fetch me after the mid-day meal? I would like to spend my afternoon with you." Her face blushed scarlet, a piece left from her maidenhood reappearing.
Petyr leaned back in the pillow with a sigh, "I will."
"I have another project I am working on and I need to pick up some more fabric for that and the cloaks, do you think we can go shopping later this evening?"
"Why do you need my company? You are a business woman in your own right now." He jested.
She whacked his shoulder and playfully rolled her eyes as she moved to sit up, "Maybe because I enjoy doing mundane things with my boring husband."
"Boring, eh? That's not what you were saying last night." He chuckled.
Sansa's mouth dropped open and Petyr was quick to dodge her smack. He caught her wrist before she could strike again, "It is not proper for ladies to hit." He chided with a tsk as he sat up, holding her wrist gently still.
"It's not proper for lords to tease ladies over the goings on in bedrooms." She retorted, leaning forward and matching his stand off.
"Forgive me, my lady, for my indecent tease." He offered playfully, "It was not my intent to offend you."
"You are pardoned, my lord." She rose her eyebrows in a silent victory and pulled back, brushing her hair to the side, "I should ready for the day."
"Would you like me to fetch someone to attend you?" Petyr offered, admiring her as she stood to collect her robe.
Sansa cast a knowing smile over her shoulder as Petyr hurried to look away, caught in the act, "I think I can manage on my own, I did survive without a maid at the Eyrie after all, thought I wouldn't be opposed to your help."
Petyr's face lit up and he pulled back the blankets, more than willing to assist her.
XxX
It took twice as long as it usually did to get ready; not only because Petyr knew nothing of women's cloths and how to assemble them but because for every step they progressed they would take two back. Her husband had gone for so long without feeling her close, being so patient and kind with her, that she couldn't bear to tell him no now.
Still, though she was late, Sansa was glowing as she scurried towards the small alcove in the castle gardens.
"My, my, someone looks like a freshly bloomed rose." Margaery quipped, a knowing purse to her lips.
Sansa blushed as she took her seat, "Pardon my lateness. I—I saw some fabric which I thought would be lovely for your cloak on my way here and—"
"There is no need for white lies, child, a bride is allowed to enjoy her bridegroom. More than once, from the looks of it." Olenna waved the excuse away with her hand, giving a playful wink.
"I am guessing you found what you like." Margaery cooed playfully, a laugh on her tongue.
Sansa rolled her eyes but her face only grew redder, giving her away.
"You must tell us all about the Eyrie." Olenna offered, giving the girl an out as she passed her a plate to choose from and remembering fondly her days as a maid.
"Well," Sansa smiled, enjoying being the one with the adventure to tell for a change, "It is high up in the mountains, and you have to go through this huge rocky channel to get to it – Petyr says that is what makes it unbreachable – and it is always freezing…"
They spent the meal in comfortable chatter, catching up on all the time missed. She shared her stories and Margaery and Olenna filled her in on all the missed gossip. Sansa was almost sad to see the sun moving across the sky, telling her the hour was almost up, even though she was looking forward to seeing Petyr.
"Sansa," Margaery reached out and gently took her hand, a heartbreaking softness to her eyes, "I am so sorry about the tea. I only hope you got our letter before any real damage was done."
"It is not your fault." Sansa replied, placing her hand over her friends and nervously looking away, "I should not have been so naïve as to take a gift from a maid who, now that I think of it, was dressed in Lannister colors." She sighed, trying to will herself to lie, "I'm glad your letter got through before anything worse could happen. I…I don't even want to think about the what if's."
Olenna reached over and patted her shoulder, "Dear girl…" She sympathized, knowing there were no words.
"Pardon my interruption my ladies, Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery and Lady Sansa."
All of them turned to see the famous King Slayer himself, his charmed smile in place. Sansa forced her smile to grow as he turned to her.
"Lady Sansa, I just wanted to give you my payment." Jaime stepped forward and retrieved a small, leather pouch to hand to her.
Sansa accepted the coins and tilted her head, "I assume you will want it in your House colors?"
"You assume correctly, my lady." He replied cheekily, "So, I assume you will be accepting my business?" He asked, continuing their Game.
"What assumptions are we making this day?"
Sansa visibly relaxed when she saw Petyr turn the corner. Jaime rolled his eyes as if a parent had walked in to spoil their fun.
"Making bets with my wife, Ser Jaime? That is not a very honorable thing, persuading a lady to partake in gambling. Though I am quite sure she would earn more money than she could ever lose. She has a gift for these sort of things, games and the like." Petyr continued, moving to take up his place by his seated wife. Sansa looked up, feeling as if she had an army behind her now.
"No, nothing more than a simple business transaction. I am sure you are well educated in the handlings of money between men and women for services." Jaime replied in turn, having no interested in tact, with a smug look to his eye.
"Indeed, as I also am in the laws that warn other men about trespassing against that which is another's." Petyr answered, stepping forward to face off with his opponent. Instinctively Sansa wanted to reach out and stop him, not wanting him to stoop so low as to lose his discretion, but she kept to herself and watched carefully to see how things would play out.
Jaime smirked, sizing up the older mockingbird and seeing nothing but his years, completely glossing over the wisdom and skills that time had given him, "Wives are not property, Lord Baelish."
"No, but they are under the protection of their husbands." Petyr replied, his eyes never faltering from their target, "What is that old saying? Ah, yes, 'never test the jealousy of a husband who loves his wife'."
"Are you…" Jaime stepped forward, enjoying the Game, "Jealous, my lord?"
Petyr kept his jaw clenched, trying to determine which path to take. He took longer than Jaime was willing to wait and the younger knight chuckled in victory.
"I mean, who wouldn't be? I am jealous that you are gifted such a youthful beauty as a wife…" His lust filled eyes flitted over Petyr's shoulder and drank in Sansa, who kept her face void of anything as Margaery flitted between each person in the group and Olenna watched on in amusement.
Jaime quickly turned his attention back to Petyr, "Lord Baelish." The knight inclined his head and readied to take his leave.
"Ser Jaime." Petyr returned, stressing the knight's place. His eyes slits as he watched the man leave.
"I pray, girls, will you allow me a moment with Lord Baelish? There is something I wish to discuss with him." Olenna asked, giving a soft smile to each of them.
They nodded in unison and stood to take their leave. Petyr watched as Sansa started off with Margaery down the path the Lannister had taken and his nerves grew.
"Lord Baelish, I must speak with you." Olenna bid, her voice taut.
"Yes?" He replied, his eyes slowly turning to her.
"Have you told her about our…affairs concerning the royal wedding?"
Petyr smirked, his demeanor pleased, "She figured it out on her own. A brilliant one she is."
"And…" Olenna stood and made her way towards him, hoping to keep the words between the two of them, "And what about your hand in her father's arrest?"
Petyr jumped back as if burned, his eyes shifting around nervously to make sure no one was there to overhear.
"Oh, you can't seriously believe I don't have little birds of my own hidden within the roses of King's Landing, can you?" Olenna laughed, her old eyes bright, "Or ones which were present in the throne room that day when you pulled Ned Stark back and held a dagger to his throat? The same one you carry with you always?"
Petyr looked to his waist where the weapon lay and back to the elder woman as she approached. His hand hovered above the hilt, not sure what to make of her.
"Have you told her the part you played in her father's death?" She asked again, each word carrying its own weight and weighing heavy upon the player.
He sighed and looked out to the hedge, not wanting to be overheard, "Not yet, a time hasn't present itself."
"Presented itself? My dear boy, you are the reason her father is dead, don't you think she should know? You told him that the City Watch was his only to lead him like a lamb to his own slaughter so that you could further your ambition!"
"No one knew what Joffrey was going to do! I was assured he would let the poor man go! If you had been there, seen the look on Cersei's face – she is a grand player but not even one as skilled as her could fake the shock on her face at her son's action that day! No one thought he would die that day, least of all me." Petyr hissed, his voice louder than intended, "And, if you had been there, you would know that I was not the one that swung the sword!" He defended, more so to excuse his own guilt than to justify himself to the old rose.
"Ahh, but you helped escort him to the scaffold. Do you really not think she will see you as equal to the executioner after she knows the truth?" Olenna pressed, seeing the fear crack in his eyes, "Why did you find it necessary to turn against Ned Stark in the end? The glory? The gold? Or was it something a bit more personal…say, his soon to be widowed wife?"
A breaking twig caught them both off guard and they quickly turned around, worried who had discovered them.
"I—I for-forgot my c-cloak." Sansa stuttered, her face bright and her eyes scratched with fresh tears.
"Sansa—" Petyr moved to reach for her but she was quick to pull back and into herself, her guard up.
She looked to him with broken eyes, her face filling with hate, "You had a hand in killing my father?"
"Sansa, if you will let me explain—"
"No!" She snapped, her eyes deadly, "Everything has been a lie! I should never have trusted you!"
"Sansa—"
"D-don't!" She yelled, her voice echoing throughout the maze of gardens and catching the ears of all hidden within, "Just don't! You killed my father!"
Petyr stepped forward and she moved back again, her eyes warning him to keep his distance. He respected her choice and halted, "If I can only explain…"
"E-explain what, exactly? That you…that you are a traitor to my family? No better than the Lannisters and the Boltons?" Tears of anger and hurt streamed from her eyes, transforming her into misery's angel.
"You…you turned on him when he needed you the most so that you could get what you wanted!" She damned, her voice angry and growing hoarse.
"Sansa—"
"Stop saying my name!" She demanded, her foot stomping into the ground, looking for an outlet for her anger. Her hands clawed at her hair as she took up a pace, trying to sort her torrent of thoughts.
Petyr watched in agony, knowing he could do nothing to sooth her as the world crashed around them both.
She stopped and turned sharply to him, her eyes filling with disgust, "Everything you have ever said to me is a lie!" A darker shadow cast across her face, "You didn't do it for the gold or titles, you did it for my mother!"
"No, I never lied to you." Petyr stepped forward, unable to let her believe the lie she was telling herself, "And I would never do that to Cat, to you! You know that." His eyes darted around as a crowd gathered along the path, curious about the lover's quarrel. One face in particular didn't surprise him; that of Cersei Lannister, who was looking quite pleased with herself.
"Oh, do I?" Sansa laughed darkly, "For your one true love? For a chance to be with her again, you wouldn't kill the one man standing in your way?" She stood off with him, her eyes slits, "She scorned you again, didn't she? She knew you had turned on my father and wanted nothing to do with you, didn't she?" She snapped, her trust broken and her anger unleashed, "Were you also the one behind what happened at the Twins? Did you also take my mother from me? And my brother and any chance the North had of being free of this Southern tyranny?" Sansa rushed towards him, her hand poised to strike but he caught it with ease. She struggled and cursed under her breath, wanting to be free of him.
Petyr held fast to her, trying to keep his hold gentle as she struggled, and leaned forward to whisper, "Sansa, I would never—"
"Who cares for your pretty words and lies which you spin as easily as you breathe? Everything you have ever said has been a lie!" She spat, her body swaying from the stress and starting to give way as she ripped herself from his grasp. He started forward but one look stopped him.
"Everything, every word, every touch, every moment, was a lie." Her voice was broken in a mirror of her spirit.
Petyr held his hand out as if to calm her, "Sansa, if I can only—"
"I hate you." The words were soft, like that of a dove, but were enough to break the once great player and steal everything away from him. His heart shattered, his hope gone with those three little words.
"I…" Her anger broke down and sorrow weighed her small shoulders down as she met his eye, letting him see the pain he had created, "I hate you."
With nothing left to say she took off, unable to face him any longer.
"Sansa!" Petyr started to take off after her but stopped, gazing longingly after her fleeing back and knowing she didn't want to be followed.
His darkened eyes turned back to the crowd, "Do you have nothing better to do? Go now, the rumors can't spread themselves." He seethed, watching them begin to scatter.
Cersei started towards him, a triumphant glint to her eyes as she slowly clapped, "I wouldn't go home just yet if I were you." She advised before giving a final smirk and taking her leave.
His fist clenched by his side, wishing he could strike the smile from her lips.
The gentlest hand touched his shoulder and caused him to panic as he hurried to take on the next threat, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.
Margaery stood to the side at a safe distance, Sansa's cloak draped over her arm, a sympathetic touch on her lips, "Sansa will forgive you." She whispered, offering him the thick fabric.
"No, she won't. She will probably come soon enough to you to change her sides, just as you were hoping. Now the Key to the North will be in your pocket." He mused, taking the cloak from her. It wasn't that he saw Sansa as a playing piece still; he just knew that he was hurt and didn't know where to go from there. After playing the Game for so long on his own, he never expected to have an ally he cared for as much as his little pawn. The crushing break of their alliance, of everything they had built, cast him into a storm of confusion he couldn't escape or make sense of. There was no ladder to be found in this chaos.
"We are not against you, Lord Baelish." Margaery answered sweetly, her voice sincere, "I've seen how much she cares for you, give her time."
"I should have been honest with her from the start." He thought aloud, holding the fabric between his hands and looking at each of the stitches. They weren't as unbreakable as he had hoped they were.
"Yes, you should have." Olenna nodded, "But what is done, is done. Now, go home, Lord Baelish. She needs you."
Absentmindedly, he nodded and started on his own walk of shame through the bustling city, trying to keep to the shadows as the darkness of his guilt consumed him and the rumors spread, reminding him with each step that he was nothing and always would be
XxX