Petyr awoke with the sun in the same position as he'd fallen asleep, with Sansa Stark curled up and clinging to his body. For so long he had been playing the game, hoping objects would fill the void left by unrequited love. Last night he realized she was all he really needed. But he'd come to far, been playing the game too long to stop now. Now, he had to tell Sansa the next step of his plan - not because he didn't think she'd go along otherwise, but because now this next step would be just as difficult for him as it would be for her. He brushed her arm up and down until she stirred awake. She started drawing shapes through his chest hair with the pads of her fingertips.

"Sweetling, it is time we discussed our next step." He said soberly.

"You're going to marry me off to Ramsay Bolton, aren't you?"

He looked down, impressed, but also sad at the resignation in her voice. She looked him in the eye and saw that she had guessed correctly.

"That much I could work out. But tell me - do you have a plan to free me from the House that killed my family, or am I to spend the rest of my days with him?"

"I always have a plan."

Sansa turned toward him fully, placing her hands atop his chest to prop her up, "Do I get to hear this plan?"

"Not yet."

Sansa eyed him for several moments before bringing her lips to his in a soft, gentle kiss. She brought one hand to rub the scruff of his morning beard. She loved the tickle of his mustache against her upper lip. Sansa committed it to memory, as soon she would be kissing another. She had to memorize the feeling so that she could picture Petyr with her in the marriage bed and not Ramsay Bolton.

They finished their journey in two days, no more stops at inns along the way. As she peered out the window, she saw it. Her home. Winterfell looked just as she remembered it, save the sections that had been damaged in battle since she'd left. Petyr crossed the wagon house to sit next to her on her bench. He enveloped her in his arms and promised her it would be alright. He wouldn't let any harm come to her here. She knew it was a lie, though. No one could protect her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. She didn't hold back either. Who knew when he would be called away on business and leave her here with the traitors who murdered her family. Who knew the next time she would feel his arms around her in a loving embrace. She certainly didn't know. So she kissed him as if her life depended on it. Their moans getting louder until the carriage started to slow. They broke away and he offered her one final soft kiss before returning to his side of the carriage.

The carriage doors opened all too soon, and Petyr was escorting her through the gates of Winterfell. He could see the exact moment she put on her mask. While it pained him to make her keep playing the game, he was proud at how good she had gotten at it. Soon, she would beat them all. And he would be there at he side when she did.

At dinner, the Boltons and Lord Baelish discussed the plans for the upcoming nuptials. Sansa interjected only when absolutely necessary, enough to make them think she wasn't completely repulsed by the Boltons. Or completely discontented thinking about when Lord Baelish would eventually leave Winterfell for another step of the plan. She knew she could handle herself, she was not dependent on him. But she would miss his company and the feelings that accompanied it.

Finally, Lord Bolton stated, "I think we could all use a good night's sleep. Ramsay, why don't you escort Lady Sansa to her chambers."

Ramsay smiled a twisted smile, and took Sansa from the room. It was her childhood room. She wasn't sure how she felt about seeing it after all these years, without Arya to share it with. When they entered, Arya's bed was still there. She hadn't let herself think about her sister in a very long time; it hurt too much. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't even notice Ramsay shut the door and walk ever closer to her. She only noticed when he was pressing her against the door. She barely had time to register his lips forcefully crashing onto hers. His hands were everywhere, but instead of feeling stimulated, she felt disgusted. When his hands came to her breasts, he pinched her nipples through her gown, painfully. She thought about fighting him, but she realized that would be foolish. She was no match for him and she did not want to jeopardize the marriage. She played her part, played the game. She bit his lip hard until she tasted blood. She thought about what she would want to do to Petyr if they ever really fucked. They'd made love, but what would it be like to really be taken by such a man? These thoughts helped get through this moment of torture with Ramsay. He seemed pleasantly surprised by her actions. His hand came to rest at her throat where he began to squeeze, not letting her lips leave his. When she could feel herself growing light-headed, she grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged as hard as she could, then proceeded to bite his neck, harder than she ever would bite Petyr. She looked him in the eye and saw cruelty and madness. She thought he might kill her with a look on his face like that. Then, a knock at the door had Ramsay detangling himself from her. Sansa swore she'd kiss whoever had just come to her rescue.

"Lady Sansa, I have your trunks. My men brought them to the wrong chambers on accident." Petyr. Now she really would kiss her savior.

"Soon, my lovely wife." Ramsay whispered, biting her lip. He then opened the door and departed without a word or glance toward Petyr. Thankfully, he didn't notice that Petyr came without any men with trunks. Or that she didn't even bring any trunks to begin with.

Petyr entered the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He saw the drop of blood pool on her bottom lip. He brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. Petyr's eyes darkened with rage. But Sansa reached out to him, her hand cupping his face, her thumb brushing his cheek. "Part of playing the game." He closed his eyes as she soothed him. She tamed his rage into a dull irritation.

"I have bad news." Petyr announced. Sansa smirked, "Is there even such a thing as good news?" Petyr offered her a sad smile before disclosing, "The wedding has been pushed to tomorrow." When Sansa's expression didn't change, he added, "And I have to leave tonight." Petyr saw the slight kink in her mask as disappointment and fear gripped her heart. But she simply nodded sternly. "Alright" was all she said.

"What do you want, Sansa?" Puzzled, she replied, "I want you."

"Sweetling, you cannot desire something you already possess." She smiled as he continued. "What do you want for your future?"

Without hesitation she responded, "I want revenge for my family. I want to be Wardeness of the North." She paused a moment before looking down and continuing, "And I want you to be my Warden." She was very focused on playing with the mockingbird pin on his coat. He brushed her arms up and down, "How convenient. Those were my plans all along." Sansa looked up at him, not daring to be hopeful. "When the Boltons are defeated - and trust me, they will be soon enough - we will marry and we will rule both the Vale and all of Winterfell. As equals." Sansa smiled as he leaned forward to place his lips on hers. His pace quickened, as did hers as she realized this was the last time she would be with him alone before she married Ramsay.

Sansa hastily undid the mockingbird pin and relieved him of his overcoat. Petyr whispered, "we have to be very quiet."

Sansa nodded in agreement before helping him out of his undershirt while he fumblingly undid the back of her dress, their lips met once more. The sting of her lip was the only thing that reminded her of the scene with Ramsay just minutes prior. But soon, like before, Petyr erased the hurt with another brush of his lips and she sighed into his mouth. She was left in just her small clothes, and Petyr only in his breeches. But they quickly remedied that. Sansa then pushed him to a seated position on her bed as she climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. For several moments they just relished in each other, committing the other's body to memory. Where Ramsay's hands everywhere felt chaotic and uncomfortable, the swift journey of Petyr's hands felt intoxicating. She felt him grow hard against her belly, and she gripped him with her delicate, strong hands. "Sansa" he whispered as he allowed his eyes to close. She took the opportunity to seat herself at his tip and oh so slowly ease herself onto his shaft. She sighed in pleasure as he strangled a moan and whispered her name like a prayer each time she rose and fell onto him. Sansa had never done such a thing before, but this felt right and natural, and she felt so good in Petyr's hands. It wasn't just about feeling safe around him anymore. It was about feeling valued for who she was, about feeling empowered and dare she say, loved? Or at the very least, desired. But she had a sneaking suspicion he felt the same way about her as she him.

All of a sudden, Petyr lifted them both off the bed and he plopped her unceremoniously on her stomach. Confused, she turned to look at him, but he kept her steady, entering her from behind. The angle was divine and she tried her best to keep her moans to herself, but ultimately she bit the pillows atop her bed. Hearing his balls tapping against her body was so sinfully dirty yet it gave her such pleasure. His finger reached toward her front to encircle her clit over and over and over again until she was climbing higher and higher. She squeezed her inner walls around him to help him find his release, her hips moving frantically forward and backward in rhythm with his until miraculously they came together, with each other's names on their lips. Panting, they both adjusted themselves, cuddling in the bed that was hardly big enough for one of them, let alone both.

Out of nowhere, Petyr heard Sansa giggle. Never had he heard such sweet music in his life. Curious and amused, he asked, "What's so funny?"

"I was just imaging my reaction if someone told me that the next time I slept in this bed it would be after making love to a powerful, notorious older Lord Baelish." Together, they both laughed at the thought.

"If someone told me that I would fall in love with Catelyn Tully's daughter, I would have laughed in their face."

Sansa looked him in his eyes, "I love you too, Petyr." His name on her lips made his heart fly. He brushed the hair out of her eyes.

"The first time I met you, I was visiting your father for matters of the coin. You were just 7 years old, I don't even think you remember seeing me. I walked around Winterfell, watching all of you Stark children play in the snow or ride the horses or the boys practice combat. I could picture each of them as my own children with your mother. I knew exactly how I'd raise each of them. I would raise Robb just as he was, but I would have given Arya more room to be herself. She would have been a little less rebellious that way." Sansa giggled at the thought - a tame Arya? Petyr continued,

"I certainly never would have housed Theon Greyjoy as my personal ward and Jon wouldn't exist because I never would have looked at another woman. But you were different."

Sansa turned to look at him. "I took one look at those crystal blue eyes and my mind stood still. I never could picture you as my child. And I didn't understand why at the time. Now, I suppose, I do understand," Petyr finished, bringing his hand to her face to stroke her cheek with his thumb.

Sansa pressed her lips to his as they shared a delicate, loving, heart-breakingly beautiful kiss. One she would never forget. She was overwhelmed with emotion, and she knew that he did truly love her, without ulterior motives. Sure he wanted other things, but his desire for her was as pure as the snow that fell outside these walls. A single tear ran down her cheek. She hadn't thought much of her siblings because of the pain of their memory. But now she realized she had to. Her family, Petyr - they were her only real ties to her humanity. She would cling to their memory as she clung to Petyr now. She let herself cry in his arms, just this once, before she had to put her mask back on for her wedding tomorrow.

"Come back to me." She whispered as she drifted off to sleep. "Always." She heard him say, but she wasn't sure if it was just a dream.