Petyr Baelish sat at the small table besides the window in his suite within Buckingham, sipping his morning tea and reading the newspaper. He did this every morning around five before he needed to start attending the King, who was an early riser.

Today was no different, except that Sansa Stark was still fast asleep in his bed. She had called him late the night before asking to see him. He snuck her in through the tunnels of the palace, of which there is an extensive underground network. She was drunk and upset about something and he hadn't pushed her about it at the time, just wanting to be inside of her.

But as he sat now, his tea growing cold, he came to an unpleasant realization. He didn't have Sansa wrapped around his finger anymore. The way she had kissed and touched and fucked him the night before was different. She had clearly been thinking of someone else. And he knew exactly the man that was occupying her mind.

It hurt; he couldn't deny that. He had once again been bested by Jorah bloody Mormont. Petyr sighed. Sansa was of no use to him in his schemes anymore. She had proved herself disposable, just as most people did sooner or later with him. Sure, he could still need her for Viserys, but he required a different tactic for Jorah. And the Princess.

Scrolling through his phone, he found the number he needed to call, left unnamed incase his phone was ever compromised.

Petyr thought he would always be loyal to King Aerys and the Targaryen dynasty because that was what had kept him so close to the top. But as he realized now, he could be loyal to the highest bidder and he was sure he could negotiate his current standing with the right people.

He stepped into the bathroom, closed the door, and ran the shower before dialing the number.

~o0o~

"Good morning, Princess," Jorah greeted Daenerys as he stepped inside of her room for their daily meeting. He was surprised to find her up, sitting at the desk in her room, fully dressed. Normally she took every meeting in her pyjamas, which he found endearing, so this was certainly a change.

"'Morning," she replied without much feeling behind it. She avoided looking directly into his eyes, but she noticed he did look handsome in his suit and it hurt, bringing the rush of emotions from the night before flooding back to her. The formality of his greeting to her showed just how much they had back-slided in a few hours.

Jorah took a moment before he continued. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the night before, too busy tossing and turning in his bed and replaying their argument in his mind. Sansa had texted him several times, but he had turned off his phone, wanting nothing to do with her any longer. He had taken things too far and crossed too many lines and now he was paying for it. He noticed that even though the Princess had makeup on, her eyes were puffy. He hated himself for hurting her.

"Your Grace, your date is set with Robb tonight and we will leave on the tour tomorrow. There will be pictures on the tarmac at Heathrow in the morning and we will arrive in South Africa in the evening. Gilly let me know she is almost done with your packing and I spoke with Prime Minister Lannister and he is willing to loan Missy to us as the Royal interpreter for the duration of the trip," Jorah detailed and he hoped the news about her best friend would make her happy, but she didn't betray any emotion.

"What will Robb and I be doing tonight?" Daenerys finally looked into Jorah's blue eyes and the unspoken feeling behind them made her want to drop her aloofness and try and break down this miscommunication between them, but she was too proud and scared to do so.

"He wanted to keep it a surprise, your Grace," Jorah lowered his eyes, uncomfortable. He could feel her looking at him and through him.

She sighed, "Will you no longer call me by my name as I have asked?"

"Only when I have been forgiven, your Grace," Jorah ended the conversation, "I'll let you finish your breakfast."

Before she could say anything more, he walked out of her room, gently closing the door behind him, and headed back to his office to the pile of tasks and loose ends to tie up before the trip. Something he had been looking forward to was now something he was dreading, as it meant he would have to be near Daenerys and her disappointment in him for weeks on end. All because he couldn't think with the head on his shoulders.

~o0o~

Daenerys helped Robb spread out the blanket on the grass, enjoying the boyish smile on his face as they worked to set up the picnic together later that evening.

He had gone for an entirely different approach from their first date and tried to make it more intimate and less pretentious, which she appreciated. Even though the picnic basket was the most expensive one that money could buy from Fortnum & Mason, the location was pedestrian – up on top of Primrose Hill with a beautiful twilight view of the city below. There were a few other picnicking couples who didn't seem to notice them in their dressed down outfits of jeans and sweaters, and Grey kept an inconspicuous profile against the tree to their left.

"How are you?" Robb asked as they both sat down, and he began pulling out the food and the utensils from the basket. Daenerys hardly knew where to start – so much had happened since their first date and most of it she wouldn't dare share with him.

It wouldn't exactly be appropriate to tell the noble man courting her that she had a terrible, painful crush on a man who worked for her and that she was hurt because that man had kissed her date's sister.

It was all too messy, so she decided to keep it light, "I'm alright. Nothing new, really."

"My sister said you left her party early last night," Robb started in, not accusingly, but curious. She wanted to laugh – no matter how much she wanted to avoid it, she couldn't.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, and I knew if I didn't get some rest, that I would regret it," she lied. Of course Sansa would notice and care that she had left, because it meant her boyfriend had gone missing as well, "Are you heading back up North tomorrow?"

"Yeah…" Robb ran his hand through his auburn curls before working to uncork the wine, "Not much to do down here if you aren't around. As a rule I try and avoid London, but you are making that rather difficult."

"Don't torture yourself for me," she laughed.

"Trust me, it's worth it. You are worth it," he continued, pouring them each a glass of wine to go with their charcuterie, fruit, and cheeses. "For being a Princess, you don't act like one".

Daenerys munched on some grapes as she looked at him, looking like something straight out of a Burberry ad. He was cute, but she found herself comparing everything about him in her mind to Jorah. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that my sister acts like more of a Princess than you do – entitled, haughty, snobby…you are just, well, you. You are nice to everyone and don't act like you are above anyone else. Rhaegar was like that. And I like that about you."

Daenerys moved closer to Robb on the blanket as a little bit of a chill started to come in on a breeze. He put his arm around her, and it kept her warm as they ate their dinner and looked at the lights starting to come on in the city below them and the early evening joggers and their dogs move through the park.

"Will you miss me when I'm gone?" she asked.

"Yes, but I'm sure I will see you every day in the papers or on the internet. This is a big deal, you know. The last Commonwealth Tour was Viserys' four years ago. Everyone loves them," Robb reminded her. She had been trying to look at it as just a trip, but it really was so much more. It was a rite of passage for a royal and a chance to learn about different cultures and see the world and to find ways to give back. Her every move would be watched, she had been silly to forget.

"Well, then when I get home, we will need to do this again." Daenerys told him, smiling up at him and giving him a small kiss on the lips. It did nothing to ease the ache and jealousy she still felt inside of her from the night before, but she didn't have a choice. This relationship was practically written in the stars for them and she needed to go along with it. Clearly, she wasn't meant to have a true love that she happened upon by herself. Robb could make her happy, she was sure, and it would make everyone else happy as well.

She only hoped that if she had to make a political match, then Sansa would need to as well. The only way Daenerys could find this all bearable was if the red-head ended up with her idiot brother.

~o0o~

Jorah found himself walking down the hallway to Sansa's hotel room that evening after Robb and the Princess had left on their date. He had wanted to meet in a more neutral setting but knew that what he needed to say and her reaction to it would probably draw unwanted attention, so he had to settle for this.

It felt odd going back to the same place he had been a few days before under completely different circumstances, with Sansa surely thinking the outcome was going to be what she wanted this time.

When he had turned his phone back on after his morning meeting with the Princess, there was a flurry of worried texts from Sansa and he now realized why she had been going around referring to him as her boyfriend. She was certainly acting like he was. He had simply texted her to meet and he didn't plan on staying long. He just wanted to break things off and leave.

Jorah shifted from one foot to the other, nervous, as he knocked on her hotel room door. He didn't hear anything after a few moments and knocked again.

Finally, she opened the door and he saw the reason for her delay – she was wearing nothing except for a tiny pair of black knickers. He quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind him, trying his best to not look at her.

"Sansa…what are you doing?" Jorah asked, keeping his gaze locked on her eyes and nowhere else.

"Trying to finish what we've started or is that not obvious?" she purred and he let his head fall back, groaning in frustration. He just wanted to do the right thing and the universe was making it so extremely hard.

"Sansa, please, can you put some clothes on so we can talk?" he tried through a locked jaw and instead of listening to him, she just moved closer and put her hands on his chest. "Sansa…please…"

He didn't move an inch, just stood there, not giving in to what she so badly desired, and what he could easily desire as well if he chose to give into the sadness that was consuming him. But he held fast until she conceded and walked away from him, moving towards her bed where her clothes were and slipping her dress back on. When she was decent, he moved further into the room and sat down on the chair across from where she was perched on the edge of the bed.

"Why don't you want me?" Sansa asked sadly, "You left last night and ignored all of my texts…"

Jorah sighed. She was a beautiful girl and he recognized that she had feelings for him – strong ones – that transcending beyond the lust that he had previously felt for her. They were all trapped in this cruel comedy, none of their loves returned. Sansa wanted him, but he wanted the Princess, and God only knew who she wanted, if no one at all.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Sansa. I like you. I care about you. But this just isn't going to work between us," Jorah told her, trying to be as gentle as possible. This time, Sansa couldn't keep up her cool façade.

"Why? Did the Princess forbid you? She was clearly pissed off last night…you are allowed to have a life outside of all of them, you know that, right?" Sansa looked at him and he couldn't deny she had a point – it was just that he wanted his life to be the Princess.

"She hasn't 'forbid' me from anything. I should have been doing my job last night, not letting my personal life infringe on it. And I want you to know this has nothing to do with the Princess," Jorah lied. It had everything to do with her.

"Then what is it about?"

"There is history with our families, Sansa. History that you may not know about, and that I am not blaming you for, but it just cannot work for me. I'm sorry. I should have realized this sooner and not led things on," Jorah apologized but he could see Sansa's cheeks starting to flame the color of her hair.

He was not good with women, he was beginning to realize. Rhaegar had warned him before and tried to coach him on these things, but he was helpless.

"You're a coward," Sansa shot at him, "You're afraid and you're fickle and you made me look like an idiot."

Jorah took her words, not denying them. She was right on all accounts. He had been selfish and wanted attention and led her on. He was a coward for not being honest in anything, especially this conversation. And he was afraid that he was setting himself up for loneliness. But yet he continued, "I'm sorry, Sansa. I really am."

"Get the fuck out of my room."