I know it's not Sunday yet but I'm posting this chapter today because there's more chance of Jeremy Renner agreeing to marry me than me finding time to post it tomorrow. I can still live in hope about Jeremy Renner though.

Enjoy your Petyr/Sansa fix because this chapter is just full of fluff.

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When he finally got home and pulled the Aston into his garage Petyr went straight to his bedroom and changed into his sleep pants and a loose navy t-shirt that showed off his tattoo sleeve, it had always been just for him but Sansa seemed to adore it, maybe it was her artistic mindset. When he went back down stairs he found Sansa sat at the dining tablefeeding Tristan who ate happily in her arms, it was pasta bake but to Sansa it just looked like gloop; Tristan seemed to like it though.

"Hello, Sweetling." He greeted his girl with a kiss to her pink lips.

"Hello, Master. Tyrion asked me to tell you he went to the club." She told him while lifting another spoon of baby food to the young boy's lips. "He said he wouldn't be back until morning."

"Why am I not surprised?" It also explained the text from Olyvar saying only the dwarf has landed. "How is the boy?" He asked more for Sansa than actually caring.

"Tristan is perfect, I know it's late but he had a long nap and was hungry. He's been really good all day. He needs more food though, there is only one more left."

"That's all he needs." Petyr poured himself a glass of deep red wine and took a sip while leaning against the breakfast bar, he could see Sansa only a few feet from him, her shoulders dropped as the child finished his food. "I got his records from my contact today, haven't opened it yet though, every time I tried someone stormed into my office."

Sansa tried to smile and look happy for the boy but Petyr wasn't stupid, he knew if the boy stayed any longer she'd grow attached; it was the mothering instinct she got from Catelyn, he couldn't let that happen.

"See you can go home, I'm sure they miss you." Sansa told the young boy with a smile.

With Tristan having finished his meal Sansa cleaned around his mouth and tidied up the dining table while Petyr went and got the envelope. He begrudgingly agreed to hold the boy when she wanted to wash her hand, he'd met worse children but he still wasn't sure about Tristan or whatever his real name was. The reason Petyr didn't like children was mainly because they didn't like him, but this one seemed to which was diffrent, there was no crying or angry faces. Alright child, you and I can get along for one more night. When Sansa was done she quickly took Tristan back and Petyr was thankful for that, he knew why she didn't want to let him go, the boy was alone and she was alone for so long. She needed to take care of him. A few moments later saw the three of them sat on the couch with Lady snoozing in her big basket happily, Sansa cuddled the boy close. She'd make a good mother, gets it from Cat. Then it struck him, she'd been with Joffrey and his so-called friends for a decade.

"Sansa," He started cautiously, praying to any deity that would listen that he was wrong. "have... have you... have you ever had a baby?" Oh Gods why hadn't he asked this sooner? Sansa just stared at his chin, never any higher, in confusion and Petyr took that as a cause to elaborate; he thought for a moment. "Has your stomach ever got large and round?" Fuck! She has no idea how her own body works.

"No, Master"

"Oh thank fuck!" Petyr released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

He seriously doubted Joffrey had ever used a condom, probably didn't know what one was, which meant that one of them couldn't have children and he really doubted it was her. Had to be the incestuous bastard!

"What does my stomach have to do with a baby, Master?" She asked while cuddling a dozing Tristan.

Shit! He was going to have to explain now, he'd never expected to do that, especially not to a girl he was having sex with on a regular basis. Petyr took a breath and started as best he could.

"Em, okay. How much did you research when looking up how to take care of Tristan?" He asked calmly, he needed to know if she had any idea what he was going to tell her.

"Just how to feed and change him." She answered.

"Right." Petyr really didn't want to do this. "The purpose of sex, other than enjoyment, is to make a baby." He spoke slowly to make sure she kept up, though he'd rather just speed through it and leave the room. Her expression was growing more and more confused by the second. "The seminal fluid - the liquid that comes..." Gods this is awkward, Petyr wasn't embarrassed about explaining, he just didn't like the blank look of perplexity he got from her. "... out of men. Well, that goes into you, a female, and combines with these little eggs in you. Then it grows into a baby over nine months inside the woman, that's why your stomach would have gotten round. After those months the child is born and you have a baby, like Tristan but smaller."

Sansa was quiet for a long time taking it all in, it seemed very strange and a little impractical but she guessed this was something everyone knew so maybe it wasn't strange to them.

"That's never happened, Master." She deadpanned.

"Good." He seemed rather pleased with her answer and Sansa could only guess as to why. "Let's never have this conversation again." Sansa nodded but still found herself speaking.

"So that's how we were made?" Petyr nodded. "Doesn't that hurt?"

She felt a little silly when he snorted.

"Making a child doesn't but the birth, that hurts. However, there are drugs to help with that now."

Petyr made to stand up and wander through the house to his home office to finish off some paperwork for the next day - hide was probably a better description - but he never got there because Sansa was filling his arms with Tristan; he'd have preferred it if she hadn't.

"Would you hold Tristan while I go to the bathroom?"

I don't have much choice now do I? His mind muttered as she stood up, despite what his mind mumbled he answered a little differently.

"Of course, Sweetling."

While Sansa was gone Petyr found himself sat there with Tristan held under his armpits to face the Cleaner. Petyr Baelish didn't like children, most people learned this right after they learned never to trust him, however, there he was holding an young boy who clung to Copper.

"You know, you're the first child I've held since Arya Stark. That was back when I saw a lot of Cat." He added the last bit as an after thought. "The Stark children called me Uncle for a time, even Sansa. I didn't like holding them, save for Sansa she'd always smile at me. Her hair was such a bold red even back then." Petyr paused for a second while the boy just looked at him. "Does that make me a pervert, Tristan? That I held her like I'm holding you and yet now she calls me Master and I have sex with her? Don't look so worried, you're safe from me."

Suddenly a memory came to his mind, something he'd forgotten a decade ago, after the fire. Sansa came back into the room but found Petyr and Tristan gone, she tilted her head to see into the kitchen but he wasn't there either, just as the girl turned to go in search of her Master he re-entered the room with Tristan rested on a hip in one arm with a white, but slightly singed, book in the other.

"I forgot all about this." It sounded like he was talking to himself more than Sansa. "Sweetling take a seat."

Sansa obeyed and petted Lady on the head when she came to sit beside her on the floor, in seconds Petyr was at her side on the couch holding out the charred book, she took it.

"What is it, Master?" The redhead asked while opening it to the first page.

"It was your mother's photo album." He said softly. "Cersei burnt your home down after... after your parents and siblings died. She didn't know I was helping Ned and sent me to make sure her man hadn't left evidence. They hadn't but while going through the rubble I found this. You're Mother adored this, she was never far from it. I wanted to see if any of you had somehow survived but there were seven bodies carted off by the police, this was all I found that was somewhat intact." He seemed more pained by the memory than Sansadid. "The seventh body everyone thought was you must have been the maid's daughter, the maid vanished soon after. It was probably to stop her talking. I don't know exactly why I took this, I was angry and not thinking. It's yours now."

Sansa looked at the pictures, the book was large and most of the photographs had survived the fire which was a miracle in itself. The ones at the front were of a family of five; Mother, Father, two red haired girls and a brunette boy. A few pages later there was a second boy with messy black hair and moss colored eyes. That's after your Grandfather, Hoster, took me in. Her Master had said softly.

"This one is your Aunt Lysa and the boy is your Uncle Edmure."

Pages continued to turn and Sansa watched as her Mother aged, growing from a young girl to a smiling teenager. The group shots that included Petyr showed the Lysa woman always a little too close to him and Sansa felt a small pang of jealousy vibrate through her. Around ten or so pages in she found one of her Mother in a flowing white dress cutting a flower covered cake beside a man with long dirty blonde hair.

"Whose he?" The blue eyed girl asked.

"That's your father. It was taken on their wedding day."

More pages turned and Petyr actually forgot that he held Tristan in his arms, the boy was asleep and so quiet.

"Is that one of my brothers? What was my youngest brother's name? Rikard?" Her voice was a little hesitant.

"No, Sweetling. You're youngest brother was named Rickon." She smiled having finally been given the answer to a question she'd asked herself for so many years. "As for this, it's Robb just after he was born, your eldest brother. And this-" Petyr cut himself off as he turned the white page and pointed to another photograph. "This is me holding him, you're Mother forced me into that."

"You were so young." She smiled and then started to panic. "Not that you're old, Master. I didn't mean that." Seeing his smile Sansa calmed knowing he wasn't angry and tried to carry on. "How did you know my Mother, Master?"

"Like I said, your Grandfather took me in when my father died. I was raised with her."

Petyr left out the part about him being in love with her for most of his life, said nothing about how Lysa had been obsessed with him; still was. Nor did he mention her Uncle Edmure's gambling issues, none of these things she needed to know and they would only worry her. Yes they were her only living family besides Robin but she'd never be going anywhere near them. Lysa was crazy with a capital what the fuck and Edmure couldn't care less if she was alive or dead. No, her Aunt and Uncle would be kept far away from his girl.

"Is that Jon?" She suddenly questioned knocking Petyr from his thoughts.

"Yes. Do you remember him?" Sansa nodded with a smile. "He was your cousin, after your father's sister died they raised him." He watched as her face furrowed in a frown.

"I thought he was my brother."

"You and the others treated him like that but no, Jon was your cousin." He didn't like that look on her face and quickly wiped it off by pointing at another image, this was all very domestic but Petyr wanted her to remember her family, especially Cat. "This is you and me."

Petyr hadn't spent much time with Cat and the Starks after Sansa was born and almost none after Arya's birth, Ned had never liked him and with Lannister Incorporated growing in size Petyr just didn't have time. When the Lannisters and the Baratheons merged forming Lion and Stag Enterprises there had been even less time to spend with Catelyn. In fact that image of him holding a new born Sansa was the last picture of him in the album, almost like he'd faded out of existence.

"So you've always taken care of me."

It wasn't a question and once again Petyr was tugged from his thoughts. Tears started to form in Sansa's eyes, he didn't like her crying but it was something she'd only just learnt to do again, thankfully it was out of happiness rather than sorrow. She was his girl and Petyr adored her, he pulled Sansa to him in a one-armed hug, that was when he realised Tristan was still asleep in the other so let her take him back.

"Thank you, Master. For giving me this."

"Of course, Sweetling. You're mother would have wanted you to have it, and it's still half empty, we can take plenty of pictures of you to fill it." Sansa liked that idea. "Now, why don't we look at Tristan's family? I've been trying to open this envelope all day."

The sooner he opened it the sooner he could get rid of the boy. Sansa shuffled Tristan so as he had his little head rested against her shoulder. She didn't want the boy to go but he would be happiest with his family, she watched as her Master ripped open the envelope and started to read, stormy eyes flicking across the page easily, she longed for the day when she could read so quickly. Sansa watched an eyebrow raise which meant something hadn't gone the way he wanted and Petyr was now mentally changing his plans as he leaned back on the couch.

"It seems his name is actually Thorin Marx, he's eleven months old."

"I prefer Tristan." She mumbled to herself but Petyr heard it anyway and answered.

"So do I. Leontine Yvaine, his mother, has no living family. Just a prostitute, so why was the child with her?" He asked himself absent-mindedly before throwing away his thoughts and carrying on. "The father is Korbin Marx... whose in prison for rape of a minor."

"Please don't give Tristan to him, Master." Sansa pleaded despite it not being necessary.

"Don't worry, baby girl, I won't. I couldn't anyway." Petyr leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple in soft reassurance. "There is a paternal Grandmother but that's it, and it's only a last known address. It'll take a few days to find her according to this."

Her Master seemed perturbed by that, Sansa wasn't stupid she knew he wanted Tristan gone.

"Does that mean Tristan can stay until then?" She asked hopefully.

Petyr knew why she wanted to keep him, but there was no way he was going to keep the boy. A dog was one thing but an eleven month old? No, the boy was going. However he relented.

"Yes, Sweetling. You can keep him a few more days, but he's going." He needed her to remember that.

Petyr was fully aware if the boy stayed longer it would all blow up in his face, he couldn't let Sansa get too attached.