Sansa lay amongst the silk sheets snuggled happily against Petyr's chest. His eyes were closed but the redhead knew he was awake regardless. Lord Baelish hadn't attempted to touch her further than just holding her close like he'd promised but she assumed he wanted to. Did she want him to? When she'd been a child and had a nightmare her mother would lay in bed with her, or occasionally Jon had, and she'd felt comforted as any child would, been relieved and happy, but she'd never for one second felt the utter bliss she felt cuddled beside Petyr Baelish. It was as if she could just melt away and would certainly be delighted to do so. Though naïve, Sansa had gossiped with Jeyne about men and what it would be like in their marriage bed. This was about as far away from a marriage bed as Sansa could have gotten but she couldn't simply lay there any longer, not in her corset.

Slowly the redhead rose to her feet but Petyr didn't object in the least though she could feel his green eyes on her. Sansa slipped behind the ornate folding divider of turquoise and golds which was where she realized two things. One, she should have been disturbed that not for one single second had she been concerned about undressing in a man's room, the room of a far older man who was not her husband; or at the very least her betrothed. Two, it would be entirely, irrevocably impossible for her to get out of her battle dress alone.

"I can practically hear you thinking, sweetling." Came his deep voice.

However, it wasn't from the distant bed, no it was so close just on the other side of the folding divider; so close she could almost feel his breath on her neck. Then his breath really was on the supple skin of her neck as his hands went to rest on her hips from behind. Petyr's warmth bled through her skirts and into her very soul.

"Let us get you out of this, shall we?"

Something in the back of her mind – which sounded disturbingly like her mother – told sweet Sansa Stark to refuse his offer of aiding her to undress but at this point Sansa didn't care. Her body and soul had accepted she wasn't human long before her mind had but it had finally caught up. Joffrey had never made her feel this way, and she'd only seen a portrait of Harrold Hardyng once by chance. The Young Falcon had been handsome but that was about it, he'd never make Sansa feel like Petyr did.

Slowly he unlaced her dress, his movements methodical and strangely practised. Unlike a lady's maid he let her petticoats tumble to the floor discarded. Once she'd been reduced to her slip he snaked his arms around her entirely and pulled her back to his lean but strong chest, Petyr kissed Sansa's pale neck as he guided her gently backward towards the bed where she found herself being laid down with all the love and attention in the world.

"I may have lied when I said 'nothing more'." He purred into her ear as he settled atop her.

Green eyes fixed on blue ones and neither blinked, neither wanted to miss a moment.

"I don't care." Quite frankly – as nervous as she was about it – Sansa was delighted.

One of his large hands stroked up her thigh as he settled over her, knees between the legs he'd encouraged her to part while the other hand combed softly through her flaming hair, there was something wonderfully loving about it and Sansa basked in the sweet emotion. She could feel little tingles from his touch like little electric sparks radiating from his skin, small bursts that vibrated through her body making her desperate for him, her innate reaction was to wrap her legs around his waist in an attempt to seek more. This had never happened to Sansa before, she'd always been innocent little Sansa patiently waiting for marriage but not any longer, she was Petyr Baelish's now. Then he was at her core, fingers tormenting her glistening sex underneath her slip.

"Petyr." The redhead moaned as her head fell back against the silk pillows.

Her mother would call this tossing away her virtue, her father would think it immoral and another display of Baelish's manipulation, while her siblings would just be disgusted by the whole thing. None of that mattered though, it wasn't a decision for them, this was all Sansa's choice and she wanted it; by all the gods, old and new, did she want it.

Her fingers screwed into the fabric of the soft sheets as he toyed with her virgin core and Sansa's cerulean orbs rolled back inside her head. For a man with such unwavering expressions Petyr's caresses where soft and caring. She felt almost as though his fingertips sent out waves of pleasure, small and localized but they had quite the effect on her. Whatever she'd been expecting from the whole encounter she'd not expected this. This divine want.

Suddenly she was on fire in a way she could hardly comprehend, Sansa needed her clothes off and her pleasure to build. Petyr could see her desire plain on her face, he'd waited so long to have her beneath him and here it was; Sansa deserved silk sheets and firelight … and that was exactly what they had. All his movements were gentle as though he half expected her to change her mind and demand he stop but she didn't, wouldn't, all that fear she'd had in the back of her head had evaporated after only a few moments of Petyr's alien touch. She wanted this, she wanted him.

"May I?" He asked, voice a little breathless as he gestured to her slip.

The redhead nodded softly, she was young but old enough to make her own choices. Petyr smirked, the one which made his eyes twinkle delightfully in the orange glow of the fire; a twinkle which Sansa thought she'd never grow tired of. Large hands found the bottom of her chemise and slowly, ever so damn slowly, pulled it up passed her thighs to reveal her glistening sex, then her flat stomach, her small but stunning breasts, then finally over her head entirely to leave young Sansa entirely bare before him. Neither noticed when the linen tumbled from the edge of the large bed and onto the floor; even if they had they'd not have cared.

Before she could utter a single word of complaint Petyr's fingers wete back where they belonged, at her entrance. It was almost like dropping a pebble into a lake, one smooth, hardly there action that radiated outwards in all directions until it subtly faded away … or at least it had before, since baring her body to him the pleasure didn't fade away, it pooled inside her body to churn and crave more. She wanted to cover herself but Sansa found her body wouldn't obey and even if it would Petyr's body blocked her legs.

Lord Baelish smirked again and then, in one smooth motion, gripped the back of Sansa's knees and pulled her down the bed, legs spread wide for him.

"My beautiful girl." The dark-haired man practically purred.

He looked at the delicate red curls of her glistening, virginal sex, so wet and I've only teased her, his mind muttered before he let his fingers stroke along her folds. She moaned, loud and needy, if Petyr never heard another sound ever again he'd die a happy man; not that he could die exactly. She was beautiful beneath him, hands gripped the bed sheets, lips parted to let little groans and pants escape as his clever fingers explored her wetness. Sansa had touched herself before but it had never been like this, she'd never felt so desperate for it. He brought her to the brink of pleasure and then pulled his hand away, her eyes flashed with need. Petyr wouldn't deprive his darling little girl though, especially after he'd waited so long for her. With a grin he slid down her supple body to pepper sweet kisses to her inner thighs.

"Petyr." She breathed.

"Hush, sweetling, all will be well." He whispered.

His tongue licked at her folds hungrily to taste the sweet flavor of his girl … because she was his girl. Sansa gasped out a strangled moan, she'd never felt anything like Petyr's tongue before and couldn't even put the feeling into words. His tongue lapped at her folds, he was amazed at how wet she was for him, her hands gave up clinging to the sheets and raked into his salt and pepper hair instead, gripping tightly as his tongue circled her clit.

He kissed that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over making her scream louder and louder for him, then he slipped a finger inside her inviting body once more. Her grip on his hair became vice-like but it only spurred him on as she moaned. Another finger entered her wet heat and then another, he crooked them as he kissed her sex. It didn't take long for Sansa to start pushing back on his fingers, she was close and he knew that, revelled in it. After a few moments of careful thrusting she screamed out wrapping her legs around his head. Petyr made sure to keep the thrusts going throughout her orgasm until she was left panting, her eyes fluttered closed. Sansa felt nothing but pure pleasure not just physically but deep within her soul.

Sansa nodded and Petyr shuffled back slightly as he licked his fingers clean of her intoxicating juices. The redhead could feel the slippery wetness between her legs, a reminder of the pleasure the great Lord of Harrenhal had just given her. Dazzling green eyes caressed her supple body, committing every inch of her to memory, the slope of her breasts, the small bruises starting to emerge on her neck; Sansa was marked as his.

He pressed his hardened length against Sansa and she almost forgot how to breathe, then, as if both had waited for this moment an eternity, Petyr's hips thrusting teasingly against her opening as he fisted a handful of Sansa's luxurious red hair and pulled back hard enough for her to let out a moan; she'd never felt anything like this before and she wanted more. Suddenly he grabbed her thighs and pulled her to him forcefully causing her breasts to bounce ever so slightly.

Baelish bent down and pressed his lips to Sansa's in a hard, possessive kiss. She made a small sound somewhere between a whimper and a purr, her hands went to his shoulders desperately where her fingernails dug in deep to leave little crescent moons. Petyr kissed and nipped his way down the young redhead's body where he soon reached her breasts and took a nipple between his teeth which forced a moan from her parted lips. Sansa was his and Petyr wanted – no needed – to mark her, he left purple and red bite marks across her breasts and down her stomach, marks that would always remind her of him, marks that would remind Sansa how much she wanted and needed him. These that told the world she was his perfect woman, his Sweetling. Gods he made her feel so good and he'd barely even done anything to her.

She took a deep breath when he leaned backwards and started to open his breeches, something Petyr quickly picked up on.

"Relax, darling girl." Petyr encouraged.

This was it, one hard thrust and she'd no longer be a virgin, she met his eyes for a moment and knew he'd paused to give her another chance to refuse but Sansa wouldn't, she wanted this.

"Please, Petyr." His name felt so perfect on her lips.

Finally, finally, Petyr pushed into his Sweetling slowly, into the woman he'd waited lifetimes for, so that she could feel every inch of his cock as he buried himself within her. Sansa moaned, her back arched almost against her will. Sansa had expected her soulmate entering her to be painful but she'd worried for nothing, what she'd always been led to believe would be awkward and painful was actually hot, thick and everything she'd never known she needed in life. In that moment Sansa knew that no other man would ever be able to satisfy her like Petyr; like the man born for her.

He settled both his hands on her hips and forced Sansa back onto him that little bit further, she gasped as her head fell backwards against the soft pillows. Petyr's thrusts began slow and gentle but soon his need took over and snapped his hips fast and sharp, he set a hard pace using Sansa's hips to pull her back onto him. Sansa could only moan and grip the bed sheets until her slender fingers turned white. Petyr groaned, his hips thrusting powerfully with a satisfying sound of slapping skin. It was true that Sansa had no previous experience with sex but her body seemed to know exactly what to do, an innate knowledge and Sansa let it take over her, she let herself meet his thrusts as she chased after her orgasm. Sansa's blue eyes fluttered shut; a sight Petyr adored with every fiber of his centuries of years old being.

Sansa was dangling on the very edge, looking down into the euphoric depths below with her soulmate not far behind her, she wiggled her hips in just the right way, experimentally testing, and sent him into a primal rut, thrusting like his life depended on it. Baelish had fucked a lot of women … and a few men when his brother had talked him into it, but that was all it had been fucking, the urge to be with Sansa wasn't fucking or just something to bolster his ego when it came to how many innocent virgins he'd deflowered, this was the first time in his life that love had ever been involved. Yes, his thrusts were primal and dominant but gods did he love her.

Sansa gasped, it was then whne the redhead grew needier that Petyr flipped them so as he could watch his beautiful girl ride him, his long and talented fingers gripped her hips leaving tiny little bruises over her porcelain skin, pulling her down onto him, impaling her. Sansa was a little startled by the sudden move and didn't quite know what to do but the logic centre of her brain had essentially shut itself off for the time being and her innate self wanted to take over. Sansa let it, she gathered up all her bravery and leaned down to kiss him again, gasping at the new angle and the way her kissed nipples grazed against his scarred chest.

She could take it no longer, the need inside her had reached boiling point and Sansa was so new to this sinful pleasure that she thought she may explode. With another deep thrust Sansa plunged into the smouldering waters of bliss and euphoria, her body clamped down around the older man as she rode out her orgasm and pulled him over the edge and into climax with her.

Since childhoods hour she'd been told from a variety of sources that sharing a bed with her husband would be her duty, that its purpose would be for her to deliver him a child, preferably a son, and nothing more. Sansa had thought it would hurt, that she'd bleed and she had but the pain had effervesced quickly. What the redhead had never been told was just how fucking good it would feel afterwards, how her body would meld with a man's own to create a font of want, need and utter bliss. Later Sansa would ponder why but in that moment she couldn't have cared less.

~X~

When Lady Stark woke she stretched almost obscenely only to feel the soreness between her legs, it was a little uncomfortable but Sansa decided it was well worth it for what had come before it. She rubbed at her eyes to clear away the sleep from them then rolled from her left to her right in search of her dark-haired bedfellow; gone. Sansa sat herself upright and tugged the covers up to cover her modesty, not that there was really any need, and glanced around the room with her cerulean orbs. Daylight poured in through the now open curtains and she could hear the tweeting of birds which were nesting on the island's rocks; no Petyr though. Slowly she reached a pale hand out to his side of the bed – wasn't that a funny though, his side of the bed, all the bed was his – and found the mattress to still be warm so Lord Baelish hadn't been gone too long.

A hushed noise caught her attention then, something vaguely metallic from the sitting room which attached to Petyr's bedchamber. Knowing she couldn't remain in bed all day and hoping none of their morning conversation would be awkward, Sansa slipped out of bed. When her bare feet touched the dark wooden floors they chilled but she hardly took notice, mind too focused on something else. Sansa wasn't a virgin any longer, she wasn't pure like Joffrey and Harrold would expect and want her to be, if her parents found out she'd not just be chastised, she'd be … Sansa didn't want to know. Should I be ashamed of this, wondered the redhead as she grabbed her chemise form the floor where it had fallen the night before and put it on, that I have given away my virtue not just to a man my parents clearly don't approve of but a man who is so much older and not my husband, Sansa sighed, I honestly don't regret it for a single second. Truthfully Sansa didn't mind the discomfort either, it reminded her of how Petyr had touched her with such care and love, not to mention some animalistic want. If this was what sex was like Sansa didn't see why it was such a taboo subject.

After straightening her slip and another quiet clatter of whatever the metallic sound was, Sansa padded to the bedchamber door and out into the sitting room just in time to spot Olyvar as she exited the room to tend to his other duties. Lord Baelish sat at the same table they'd dined at the previous night but this time he was in the seat she'd occupied. Before him were a healthy looking stack of letters and in his hands was a silver letter opener which he used to slice through an envelope in his hand before he set it back down; ah, so that is the source of the mysterious metal noise. He was fully dressed and looked immaculate again - not that Sansa had expected anything else - dressed in black and greens; his shoe buckles glinted in the morning light.

She felt eyes on her though and sure enough when Sansa peered upwards from his attire she found his green eyes on her as he smiled softly to himself, they raked over her beauty and delighted in the way her hair hung wild. Oddly a little self-conscious Sansa reached out for his purple banyan from the settee where he'd left it and wrapped it around her thin frame to keep herself warm.

"Good morning, sweetling, I trust you slept well."

Baelish seemed happy, genuinely so, that she was awake. He tossed his letter aside back on the pile and calmly rose to his full height, not for a single moment did his eyes leave her as he crossed the room to her. Sansa easily let him take her into his arms; it felt so right to settle her head against his shoulder. After just a moment she felt him press a loving kiss to the top of her head.

"Good morning, my Lord." Sansa finally greeted him.

"Oh, sweetling," he chuckled, "after last night do you not believe you can finally call me Petyr? If not I didn't do my job right." Petyr teased and she knew it.

"No, no." She said as she pulled her head up to look at him. "Last night was- it was wonderful. Truly. I-"

The Stark girl trailed off not knowing quite what to say or how to say it; she'd never been clued in to the etiquette for such a situation. She was no longer a maiden and yet not married, she should have felt a disgrace. All her life had taught her that her husband would be her one and only but she really didn't care. Sansa had been taken by this dangerous man, had wanted so desperately to be taken by him and had adored each and every second of it all. Did this mean she'd be called harlot, whore, coquette or heaven's forbid a demi-mondaine? Only if people find out.

Petyr wasn't anything like any of her suitors, he wasn't cruel like Joffrey nor did he seem sex crazed as Harrold apparently was. No, Petyr wasn't a boy, he was a man, a man who seemingly had been waiting a thousand years for her to be born. If that didn't make a girl feel special then Sansa didn't know what would.

Baelish kissed her cheek then and she could feel the freshly shaved edges of his moustache and goatee; he felt right.

"Believe me, my love, I feel as you do." He assured her as Petyr continued to hold her tightly in his arms. They stayed like that a time until he broke the quietude between the two of them. "I thought you may want breakfast."

He gestured to the toast and fruit behind him on the table then leaving Sansa just a touch annoyed that his arms had left her. There was something hidden under silver domes to keep it warm which soon had her attention though.

She smiled up at him. "Thought you said we don't need to eat."

Sansa really needed to evaluate the fact she wasn't concerned with her and Petyr being demons. He must have sensed this momentary worry as he flashed her his most charming smile when he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"While entirely true, it doesn't mean we don't like to."

Petyr took his sweet Sansa's hand and guided her over to sit at the table before she reclaimed his seat and returned to reading his letter.

"That's quite the stack of correspondence." She said while buttering a slice of toast.

Littlefinger hummed. "It is yes, my darling, normally the pile is rather a lot larger though. A small boon to being here at Harrenhal rather than in King's Landing I suppose."

Despite him not looking up from his mail Sansa didn't feel like she'd been sidelined or in any way ignored, a man like Petyr Baelish was a damn fine multitasker.

"Have you any idea when replies from my parents should reach us?" She wanted time to prepare for the yelling her mother would somehow manage to squeeze into the written word.

Petyr folded his letter back into the envelope from which it came and set it aside as he lifted another and the letter opener, finally his green eyes met her blue ones again.

"They went out on the last ship so they should reach Winterfell in two days time." He informed calmly, voice deep and lightly accented. "Three days back so you should have replies on Tuesday."

Sansa's fiery eyebrows lifted as a slight surprise filled her. "That is rather fast."

"Yes," Baelish confirmed, "I have the fastest ship outside of the Iron Isles, it has irritated Cersei for years now, also I have your mail listed as a priority."

Sansa's eyebrows lifted just a little further. "Thank you, but I have sent hardly any correspondence, surely someone else would deserve the honor more."

"You think too kindly, my sweetling." She loved the way he called her that, the slight rumble in his tone. "You are new to this island and also disobeyed your family by attending. They're likely coming up with outlandish stories of the things I have done to you by now. This way they will be put at ease and I don't have Ned and Robb Stark showing up with swords and silly insults to free you." Sansa grinned because she could actually see all of that happening knowing her father and elder brother. "Also, a delay to everybody else is no issue," he shrugged, "for me anyway."

Oh he was a bad man but he was just bad enough to be fun.

"I shan't even be here on Tuesday though, surely the conclave ends tomorrow."

Baelish nodded then took a deep breath before fixing his eyes on her poignantly. "We spoke briefly on the topic of you leaving and while I have no intentions of forcing you to remain her, I'd like you to. I have a new offer as it were. Stay with me until the letter from your parents arrives and then return to Winterfell. I shall teach you of your abilities, of our history all while there aren't people here to witness."

Sansa had promised her parents in her letter that she'd return home once the conclave had ended, but they didn't know when that was exactly, she'd not be further breaking her word just bending things a little. What was a few more days? Sansa knew she was already in a world of trouble so she may as well drag it out just a little longer, besides, she really did want to stay with Petyr. That was how she found herself nodding after hardly a second to think it over.

"I'd like that."

Petyr beamed. "Wonderful! Let us eat our breakfast and then you can dress before the conclave restarts."

Happy, Sansa bit into her slice of buttery toast. It was warm and comforting, a perfect start to her morning, quite frankly she didn't much care what was underneath the dome, she was happy with her brown toast.

"What is it you're intending to accomplish from this?" The redhead enquired after she'd finished her morsel. "How does King Robert's death benefit us?"

The Lord of Harrenhal regarded the teenager a moment before he cleared his throat. "Many people it wont benefit because they'll be cut down by those it does, but ultimately I want the Baratheons, and more importantly the damn Lannisters, off the Iron Throne for good."

Sansa tilted her head. "So you want Daenerys Targaryen in power?"

"She's yet to show her true colors, sweetling, but likely no."

"Then who? You?" She gestured to him loosely with her butter knife.

Petyr lifted a brow. "I did say I'd make you a queen."

"Never said anything about making yourself a king at the same time."

Petyr chuckled as he shuffled in his chair. "Always best to hide your secrets, my love, and I do like to multitask."

Sansa swallowed another bite of toast; the birds continued to tweet. "Can you even be king? You couldn't die, you'd just be king … forever."

Petyr practically preened. "I rather like the sound of that, we could rule until we grew bored or found something better."

Sansa, however, was not so convinced. "Or until humans rose up and slaughtered us. You said it yourself, Petyr, it's happened before."

Baelish hummed. "But I have all the weapons which can kill us, my love, well, almost all of them."

"And if I don't wish to be a queen?"

Oh that made Littlefinger grin because he could see right through his red-haired beauty. "Something tells me you very much do. But if not then I shall abandon my plans, plots and schemes right here and now. I told you, I want everything and to a demon our soulmate is everything." That made her smile, made her feel special and loved but before she could say a word Petyr was speaking again. "Regrettably we are very far off, sweetling, years off. First I need to find that last sword and we must bond of course."

Sansa's easy persona left her then as she became tense and confused. "I- I thought we already had."

The man with ash at his temples gazed at the young woman before him a moment, so utterly innocent despite the sounds she'd made for him. Sometimes he forgot just how much he'd have to explain and teach her, Sansa had always been a demon but completely unaware of it, she hardly knew her own nature.

"No, Sansa, sex doesn't equal a soul bond, it takes more, takes time. We must resonate. As we spend time together we shall, it cannot be rushed, my love."

Sansa asked no further questions, it was much too early in the morning for her to absorb more and he'd been right when he said they needed to ready themselves for the conclave's second day. Together they ate their breakfast and Sansa discovered she did indeed care what was underneath the silver dome because it turned out to be bacon. They ate in a comfortable silence and soon the throb at Sansa's core settled down into the background.

When the meal came to an end Petyr gathered up his letters, pressed a long kiss to her lips and left her for his office so she could dress. Hardly half a minute after he'd departed Armeca knocked at the doors and entered to greet Sansa. The lady's maid had another dress over her arm and Sansa had to take a moment to admire it once she'd hung it up on the folding divider. This gown was jet black with gold embroidery so fine it appeared as though faeries must have crafted it. Her blue eyes focused on the bodice though, it was far more revealing than any other dress she owned and more so than the one Petyr had gifted her the previous day, but it still hadn't stepped over the line into vulgar, lewd or whorish. The garment was undeniably dramatic and eye-catching in a way that even Margaery with all her skin on display would never be.

Armeca politley gave her lady a moment of privacy to wash away the evidence of her night with Petyr, to rid herself of the small amount of dried blood between her legs and the clear indication of a man. Something told Sansa it wasn't the first time Armeca had needed to do so either. Soon enough though Armeca and Sansa were behind the ornate folding divider so Sansa's corset could be tightened and her petticoats layered properly so they flowed perfectly. While Armeca went about her work Sansa peered at herself in the small mirror which stood on a table ever so slightly to her right, she still looked like herself but without her childish innocence and Sansa wondered if it would be obvious to anyone besides herself and Petyr. As she gazed at herself she started to realize this dress must have been Lord Baelish's way of silently moving her on, she'd finished one lesson and now was time to graduate to another. He hadn't tried to make her look like a kept woman or a flashy concubine, no, Sansa thought she looked grown up and dangerously intelligent. Sansa was actually thankful for that, she'd spent so long lingering between childhood and adulthood, a purgatory she hated. A spark of fear fluttered inside her a moment then as she questioned if she'd be recognizable in the end but no, Sansa would always be Sansa, this was just him helping her to mature and grow. To a man such as Petyr Baelish dangerously intelligent would always be more attractive than a flashy concubine. Petyr had said it himself, she'd always be a wolf, a Stark. Besides Sansa did like these dresses and not just because her parents would never let her wear them, no, Sansa liked them because they made her appear confident which in turn made her feel confident.

"It's good milord has found you." Muttered Armeca which yanked Sansa from her thoughts quickly and without warning, but as soon as Armeca noticed Sansa had heard she clamped her mouth shut. "Sorry, milady, it's not my place."

"No, please, Armeca." Sansa was quick to encourage. "Say whatever you wish. You've been so kind and helpful to me since I arrived here. Honestly, I'd not have ever been able to dress without you here."

The two shared a smile and Sansa wondered if she preferred Armeca to her lady's maid at Winterfell Hall.

"All I was going to say, milady, was that the master seems happier these last few days. He's usually all work, either locked in his office with Ros or in King's Landing dealing with the small council and his brothels." Armeca chuckled to herself as she slipped Sansa's gown petticoat over her head and secured it. "There was talk among the girls that he preferred the company of men because he never touched us-them, but that died down when they realized he didn't touch the boys either. I think he just couldn't stand the thought of them not being you in the end, milady. I've never seen Lord Baelish so happy."

After last night Sansa knew all too well that Petyr was no septon but still Armeca's words made her feel special.

"Armeca," began the redhead slowly, "do you mine me asking how you came to be in Petyr's care?"

The lady's maid was silent a time as she guided Sansa over to sit and have her hair braided for the day. Only when Sansa thought she'd not answer did the olive-skinned woman speak.

"I was born in Flea Bottom, it's a horrible place, milady, down-trodden and poor. I hope you never visit. There wasn't much of an opportunity for work such as my current position but I was pretty and men could see it, my father certainly could and sent me off to work. When he died I needed a home so I managed to find employment in one of the many brothels, at first I thought it was a step up but the place was just as filthy and horrific as out on the streets. Eventually I had to leave and I bounced around a couple of different brothels and I learnt that with my skin I could pretend to be from Dorne or Essos and men would pay more for me. Then one day I found my way to a brothel I'd worked in before but I knew a new owner had just taken it and decided to try my luck." She pinned Sansa's hair then took up another section. The redhead remained silent and listened. "I was quite shocked when I walked in, milady, because unlike all the others the floors were clean and polished, there were drapes and people patching up the walls." Armeca sighed as if remembering. "I stood there and a boy came up to me, he must have been about the age you are now, he seemed so out-of-place with his posh clothes and clean face. He asked me why I was there so I told him and he instantly accused me of lying about being from Essos and that my accent was fake. I'd been lying about my accent since I was seven when my father first sent me out and this rich boy, hardly older than me, had figured it out in seconds. Then he offered me a job, a teenager owning a brothel, the idea was laughable but he didn't laugh, just looked at me. Lord Baelish thought I had potential so he took me in, I've been with him ever since. I always come to Harrenhal with him for the conclaves now."

Sansa didn't quite know what to say, mostly to a father sending his seven-year-old out to whore herself. Still, Petyr had found her eventually, that was something she supposed.

"When did you- you know?"

"Learn he wasn't human?" Sansa nodded happy that Armeca had picked up on the question. "Not long after I started working for him. Lothor always just seemed to know when to go to him and Lord Baelish had this way of talking angry customers down. It was like he made eye-contact with them and suddenly everything he said to them was so damn agreeable. At first I thought he was some kind of witch like that Red Woman but then I started just knowing when to go to him. It felt like a compulsion, that I needed to go in that very moment and somehow I always just knew where he'd be. Mind you, milady, it was when one of the drunk lords I was with shoved him out the second story window from my room and into the back alley that I realized he wasn't human. Lord Baelish got up, dusted himself off, came straight back up stairs and threw the lord who wouldn't pay his bill out the very same window."

Sansa didn't need Armeca to tell her that this drunk hadn't been as lucky as Petyr.

"Not that he's a violent man, milady." Said Armeca quickly, worried she'd done something wrong. "Usually he talks his way out of something or has Lothor glare at them."

Sansa chuckled, she'd seen Lothor and had no doubts when it came to his glaring capabilities. Pleased she wasn't in trouble, Armeca put the last pin into Sansa's long braid and set it neatly over her left shoulder.

"There you are, milady."

"Thank you." Sansa stood. "You know, there is some wine left over from my and Petyr's breakfast still waiting to be cleared away, why don't you help yourself."

Armeca raised an eyebrow. "Really, milady?"

"Of course, it'll go to waste otherwise and you've been so much help to me. Nice for you to have a treat even if it is just a little one."

"Oh," beamed the lady's maid; or maybe it was part-time lady's maid. "thank you, Lady Sansa, I shall."

With that Sansa left Petyr's chambers and headed downstairs, after all, day two of the conclave was to begin shortly and once again Sansa had dressed for war. She'd started to enjoy this funnily enough.