It was the sixth night of his absence. "Council business", Kella had told her. What kind of Council business could be so urgent that he had to leave without telling her? Stupid little girl, he has no obligation to inform you where he is and what he is doing…
The days had been even more tormenting and dull now that he was gone. Sansa would spend all her time sewing or reading books from a small library Kella had introduced her to, or she would plainly stare out of her window nostalgically. Sometimes she closed her eyes and pictured her home; Bran and Rickon running around, Arya trying to steal a sword and pretend to practice, Robb and Lady Catelyn watching them and father…how could she know for sure that father had returned? One evening she managed to sneak away from Kella and write down a letter but she got caught before she could send the raven. After that, the woman wouldn't let her out of her sight.
I should be in the capital by now. I should be betrothed to Prince Joffrey and perhaps see father, if Petyr is right, she kept thinking that night as tears threatened to run down her cheeks. Never before had she encountered the feeling of being caged, helpless, desperate. The moonlight was coming through the window, colouring her "prison" with a silver shade. She pressed her palm on the glass and sighed. Let me out…
She could hear the wind whistling, whispering secrets to lonely ears. The candle on her night-table went out and darkness fought to prevail. There was a knock on the door which she thought imaginary.
"Yes?" Remembering the manners she had been taught, she tried to sound as less exasperated as possible; Kella always checked up on her every night before it was time to sleep.
The door opened and Sansa's heart jumped; with surprise? She stood up instantly and swallowed thickly.
"Lord Baelish" she muttered weakly. "You are back."
Petyr smiled at her widely, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him noiselessly. Sansa clasped her hands together, realising that they had begun shaking. She remained serious and still but her moonlit blue eyes gleamed. Is it normal to feel grateful for the return of my kidnapper?
"I apologise for leaving in such a short notice. I received a raven with more news from the capital." He whispered and stood next to the window. The moon illuminated him.
Sansa nodded. If he wanted her to know what the matter was, he would tell her. It would be unwise to ask him. "I'm glad you've come" she murmured and lowered her eyes regretfully.
He chuckled under his breath and snaked a sneaky arm around her waist.
"We are leaving for the capital on the morrow. King Robert has left for the North, to ask your father to be his Hand. Chances are your father will accept and return with the King." He seemed as certain of his assumptions as he always did. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"So…my father is in Winterfell? Safe?" Alive, she thought but didn't say another word.
"Yes, sweetling" Petyr replied and kissed her temple.
It made her shiver but she tried to stay focused.
"How can you know that he will accept the King's suggestion?" She dared to ask and meet his gaze.
He shrugged and kissed her again, this time closer to her ear. "Robert is King as well as your father's best friend. It won't be easy to leave his family behind but…Ned Stark is a dutiful man. He will do what he has to do."
Sansa frowned with disbelief. My mother, my siblings, he will just leave them all behind?
"I dare say that this is a game, sweetling. Right now, the pawns are moving" He added as his warm lips reached her ear and caressed it smoothly.
She opened her mouth to speak but he pressed a finger to her lips.
"We will travel by ship. If the wind is in our favour, it will only take a few days" Petyr's grey-green eyes narrowed. "During our voyage, I will fill you in about the story you are going to narrate over and over again when we arrive. You are not to speak about what truly happened" Her earlobe was now between his lips and his tongue was tasting it. She bit the inside of her cheek.
"Why? Why should I lie? What stops me from telling the truth?" She breathed out and closed her eyes.
"Because no one would believe you…because the consequences would be detrimental, I assure you."
His voice was a menacing hiss and his mouth a greedy hunter as it travelled on her skin.
"You will reunite with your father and be betrothed to a prince, heir to the throne. That is worth the trouble, is it not?" He whispered right before his lips captured hers.
Feebly she tried to pull away but his alluring kiss didn't fail to once again captivate her. He grasped her arms and brought them around his neck. She didn't resist. She shivered as he tugged her closer and her heart pounded louder. As their moist lips massaged each other, she felt herself letting go. Succumbing to darkness, to temptation, to affection…
Their lips ignited and passion conquered them. They walked on fire and ended up on her bed, bodies pressed to each other. Her hands stroked his back up and down while he was undoing the few laces of her gown. He had to guide her hands to his tunic and help her unlace it until his chest was revealed. Shyly and inexpertly, her hands travelled on his skin. Her touch was so smooth that it made him groan. Her gown was firstly removed and his tunic followed. He closed the distance between their chests and they both felt each other's racing heartbeat. Crippled by desire, Sansa sighed from the pleasure his exploring touches were giving her. When his greedy mouth went down to her collarbone and cleavage, she grabbed his short hair and tugged on it instinctively. The lower he went, the more she shivered. He kissed her stomach, her inner thighs and her most sensitive area. He tasted the moist warmth ravenously and she moaned with unbearable anticipation. He freed himself of his breeches and came up to claim her lips again. She could taste the unfamiliar bitter taste on his mouth; what was it that made it so tantalising? His name spilled out of her lips when he hooked her legs around his hips; he responded with a soft moan of her own name. She winced when he entered her, and bled but only a little. Her nails dag in his back and scratched it as they began moving together as one. The pace was slow at first but the deeper he went, the more he sped up. Sansa's mind was blank but her heart was full. Her oceanic blue eyes stared in his grey-green ones and her rapid breath mixed with his. This kind of pleasure was a whole new sensation to her; one she couldn't describe nor compare. His name occasionally escaped amongst her sighs. She sounded pleading; she pleaded for this connection to never end. Atop of her, inside of her, making love to her, Petyr Baelish suddenly reflected her dreams of love. When he released his seed inside her tight walls, he said her name in the most seductive of whispers. She responded by reaching her peak and mixing her sacred juices with his. His skin felt sweaty and silky and his lips soft as they pressed to hers. She had lost control; of her heartbeat, of her body, of her mind. Petyr had embraced them all and he had made them his. Their tender kiss lingered and their hips slowed down and finally stopped. A large hand cupped her cheek and caressed it with sincere fondness. He pulled out of her and broke their kiss so their eyes could meet. She searched the emerald pools but he kept his thoughts locked away.
Her rationale had abandoned her.
"Don't leave" she whispered weakly and waved her dainty fingers through his hair.
Does any of this matter to him?
Those two words were enough to make a small wry smile creep on his face. She thought she saw him nod before he kissed her again. He lied down next to her on the small space that was left on her bed and drew her closer so that she could bury her face in his neck. They lied in silence; he was stroking her hair and she was tracing patterns on her chest. They didn't speak until sleep took them both. Embraced in the arms of the night, the dark stranger that used to haunt Sansa's dreams had turned into a lover.

For the first time, the sunlight didn't wake her up. Cosy and comfortable, she remained in repose until Petyr stirred. Landing back in reality, she refused to open her eyes and face him, as there was one single question taking over her mind. What have I done?
His warm dry lips pressed against her forehead and his arms around her loosened. On this day, they were to depart for the capital.
"Good morrow, sweetling" he muttered.
She looked at him then and his tranquil expression soothed her. He pecked her lips and got out of bed. On his bare back she could spot several faint scratches; the realisation that she was the one who made them made her blush deeply. He spoke to her again after he was fully dressed.
"We must depart soon. I will have Kella pack some gowns for you."
He said nothing about last night, she noticed and fiddled with an auburn strand nervously, sat on the bed. She plainly nodded and watched him leaving. When he exited and closed the door, she sighed. How can he change so much from one moment to another? Sometimes, he acts like he is two people.
She was dressed when Kella joined her and helped her pack a couple of gowns for the voyage. When they were finished, they both descended to the main hall so Sansa could break her fast. Petyr wasn't there; he only appeared when she was done.
"Time to go, sweetling. Come along." He beckoned her and she obeyed dutifully after biding goodbye to Kella.
His cold, practical manner made her feel as if the kisses and the love-making had been a dream and now she had woken up. His blank expression, his steady voice, they stung her heart with hurtful poison. How foolish have I been to actually think any of it matter to him…
Their horses had been prepared and they were waiting for them outside.
"We will ride to the sea. There is a ship for us there" Lord Baelish declared as he climbed on his horse.
The sea; the place where she had responded to his affection for the first time; and yet, he didn't even look at her when he mentioned it. Sansa's heart felt just like another stone such as those that had been surrounding her for the past week.
Three men dressed in armour were escorting her and Lord Baelish. The silence during the horse-ride was deathly. She kept staring at the rocky ground blankly; the town and the previous night were left behind.

The ship was small, floating on the grey-green waters next to a hidden pier. There was a small flag with a painted stag on the mast. House Baratheon, Sansa thought. The House of the King.
Only two of the guards came aboard with her and Petyr; the other one took the horses and fled; to return to the town, she guessed. The members of the crew were numbered, just enough to handle the ship. From the first moment she set foot on the deck, she could feel all the hungry gazes of men who had travelled the sea for far too long. Some of them even whistled or whispered to her as she walked past them; she shuddered but then she felt a comforting hand upon her arm. It was him.
"Set sail. The sooner we arrive the better" she heard him commanding and everyone obeyed without objection.
He led her down a small wooden staircase to the level below where the cabins were situated. The guards had already placed their packed items in the rooms he had instructed. Hers was right next to his.
"I must speak to the captain. I will be on the deck." He spoke in a hurry and he kissed her on the cheek quickly before leaving her alone in her cabin.
Sansa sat on the bed and buried her face in her hands. Her tears were saltier than the sea.