"Oh how the rain sounds as loud as a lover's words

And now and again she's afraid when the sun returns."

Petyr opens his eyes, blinking the sleep from them. He can't be sure of the hour, but it seems later than his usual rising. The sun is fully shining, and he can feel the heat of the day invading the room. He pulls the sheets off after noticing the heat, and turns over on his side facing Sansa, wishing the morning away. She still slumbers spread out on her stomach. She has the sheets pulled tightly under her arm exposing the delicate bones of her shoulder. They are fisted in her hand and tucked neatly under her chin, resting in the crevice of her neck. She breathes deeply, and her back rises and falls in a slow rhythm. He notices the golden highlights in her auburn hair that glow in the sunlight shining in from the window. He admires her youthful beauty, She is so young, and untouched. All the worry and hurt that creases her brow during the day is absent while she dreams. Her face is calm and serene, the red of her eyelashes is brilliant, and her mouth is swollen with the morning.

He still can't believe she is real. For as much as he wished for her to be his Lady Wife, and for all the moments he imagined such as last night in the dark confines of his rooms, nothing could compare to the reality. The passion he had for her, couldn't measure to anything he had felt for another woman (accept maybe her mother), but even then, that was a childish obsession which in the end he found to neither be of any substance, or even returned. The Tully family had treated him in the most improper way, and in this thought Lysa comes to his mind with her anxious eyes, and heavy body. He remembers what she did to him in his weakness, and it still sends a violent rage through his body; his teeth clench hard, and his hand forms into a fist aggravating the previous wound there.

Since making his home at King's Landing he has surrounded himself with whores and women of all shapes and sizes. Even so, he hasn't let himself be taken in by any of them. Sometimes his want to be touched and fucked was so strong, he couldn't bare it, but for anyone in this rotten city to discover just one of his weaknesses, would be the end of him. I will not allow myself the pleasure, of having all the whores in King's Landing like most of these idiots, and then allow other men similar to myself to reap the benefits of things I say in bed. For survival's sake, it simply could not pass.

Just then, hearing her rustle he lifts his eyes up at her, his ear resting on his folded arm beneath him. Her eyes flutter open, and she hasn't noticed him yet. She let's out a deep, contented sigh, and stretches out like a cat, the pink blush of a nipple peeking from behind the white of the sheets that cocoon her. She notes him staring, and her arms come down and she smiles, a rosiness displayed across her cheeks.

"Good Morning, Ser." Sansa says shyly, her smile widening.

"Petyr, my sweet." He responds, lightly gathering a wisp of hair in his fingers, and tucking it behind her ear. He deliberately grazes her cheek with his finger, and she unexpectedly folds in to his hand resting her head in his palm. He is surprised by her actions, and thinks, It must just be the vulnerability of the morning. She still glows from last night, and reality hasn't dawned on her as of yet.

While charming a woman usually wasn't a problem for him, he's never done so to someone who wasn't his "employee." Let's face it. I am not a man women rush to lure to their beds, nor really to have an intellectual relationship with either, He thinks disenchantedly. The closest thing he'd recently had to even a friendship was Ros, or maybe Varys, and (he chuckles inwardly) that wasn't saying much. After all, women want the Loras's, the Neds, and the Jaime's of the world didn't they? Blast be the thickness of their minds. It was their pretty heads, gentle demeanors, and strong bodies that won them their loves. No one seemed to care that one liked to be fucked by men, the other by his sister. And the glorified Ned Stark, for all his beloved honor, let it overtake his very being so much that his head ended up on a pike.

Those are the men women love.

Therefore, Petyr fully expected this innocent, barely budding woman, to be completely disgusted by him, beg him to stop, freeze up... all while dreaming of her elegant Knight of Flowers. He supposed it was a business arrangement, and nothing more. He could accept that, and that was how he prepared himself that restless night before the wedding. He was good at these types of games, and would have been the perfect cold and cruel Lord Husband. He could feed off the fear and misery in her eyes. He would treat her as one of his whores. Thus, kindly reminding her when she was out of line, and when she would fuck, and the consequences if she became, to put it in his favorite words, "a bad investment." It would be easy, and he would squash away any of the feelings that would unrelentingly swell up in his chest, Because I know better than anyone, what happens to men who listen to their hearts.

Then her reaction last night...it stripped all of what he prepared himself for away, and he was stunned into silence. He had so fully accepted the opposite, that when she puffed up and became flustered with fear, he calmly made for the bed, willing away the incessant throbbing in his prick, and the pull of the ache in his soul. He began searching his mind for his first plan of action in this miserable marriage.

Then she didn't.

She took hold of his arm, and there was a need to her movements, and want in her eyes.

She wanted him. She didn't even know him, and yet she wanted him. So then he gently cupped her beautiful face in his hands, and searched those Tully blue eyes deeply for any hint of doubt. He couldn't find any.

In that moment, he let it all go. Cat faded from his mind, and Lysa became a memory. He wasn't Littlefinger, He was Petyr, and he was there to give his love to the woman before him. It didn't matter what was ahead of them, or why they were married. All that mattered to him in that moment, was that she was a woman standing in front of him, asking him to show her love in the most human way possible, with no ulterior motive, no game plan...Just need.

Sansa's incessant fluffing of her pillow stirs him from his reverie. She finally has decided it is comfortable and she rests her elbow on it, and sits up facing him.

"Did you sleep well, my Lord?" she says her eyes bright with cheer.

"Not as long as I would've liked." He replies, " But waking early allowed me to admire your beauty while you slept." His words are full and kind, and he leans in to her nose smiling.

Completely charmed, her cheeks' hue deepens. Her face is almost phosphorescent as the sunlight glows over the creamy skin of her face. Her eyes are the same color as the sky, and he revels in making them dance. It still amazes him, at how easy it is to let his guard down with her. It lifts a weight off of his shoulders and let's it hang somewhere else for a while. There is no one to see him, none of Varys's little birds hiding in the corners. The entire rest of the castle, of King's Landing, for that matter, is concerned with some other issue. After all, why bother themselves, with the meager Lord, and his new Northern wife? It was the perfect escape plan for him, no longer crushed under the weight of the unforgiving Lannister paw.

It was also an excellent way for him to carry out his "affairs" at a remote, and safe location, all accompanied Sansa Stark.

She's looking at him intently now, her face serious and watchful, "You are nothing of the man I imagined, Petyr." she says his given name shyly, but the rest of her words are confident and questioning, "You are normally so artful, sarcasm and scheme dripping from every word you say. I called you the man of many masks as I found it difficult to read you. It was impossible to tell where the masks faded, and where Petyr Baelish began."

He is surprised at the cleverness of her interpretation of him as well as her honesty, That is not something I come by often. Even if he didn't like to admit it, Petyr understood his reputation as a man of schemes, a man not to be trusted, a fly in the ointment.

She continues, "But this man I have seen this past night, the one I'm looking at right now..." Sansa pauses a moment finding the words, "...Well, you are completely unexpected." She finally says decidedly.

He is quiet a moment, and then replies, " You must know by now, my sweetling, what it is to survive in King's Landing with your head." He says his knowing what he is implying as well as knowing it is rather a cruel way of making his point.

She inhales, and she breaks eye contact with him, swallowing heavily. He expects tears, but even though her face contorts into a pained expression, there is no wetness at her cheeks. Being at Joffrey's side all this time has her well practiced at the art of holding back tears.

He coaxes her, "No need to hide yourself with me, my love. I am no Lannister." Sansa returns her eyes to his, a knowing look spreads across her features.

Still, no tear falls down her cheek, and her voice is composed, "But you are their man." She states, and her face hardens, the uneasiness returns to her brow. It seems that reality has returned to her.

"Ah, but Sansa," he leans in, his lips almost grazing hers. He can feel her breath as she exhales, "You must look a little closer...Who's man am I really?"

With that, he turns from her and rises. His lean and graceful form standing now. Her eyes graze over him, and she blushes as she realizes her current predicament, the bliss from last night fully leaving her. When it all falls away, she's left in this moment with a man she realizes she knows nothing about. It was this awkward dance of intimacy and strangeness.

After all, their interactions were really quite brief before last night. She realizes she can count the number of times they even spoke privately on one hand, and even though it seems silly and naive now, she was so caught up in Joffrey, her father, and Loras, that she never thought on him after their conversations. It never dawned on her to pay more attention.

" I don't know you." She says matter-of-factly to his back. It was a private thought, and it formed itself into words without her permission.

He pulls his breeches up to his waist, and turns to face her.

"No one knows me, Sansa. And if I can help it, no one ever will." He replies abruptly, gazing down at her rigidly, no hint of the expression his face held for her in the moonlight.

Even though she knows it's ridiculous- Really, what was I expecting?- she is hurt by his words, and she does her best at willing the offended expression from her face. She sits up fully now, and holding the sheets to her breasts, she dangles her legs over the side of the bed. She turns her face towards the window, again trying to will the ceaseless tears away from her eyes, and keep her features calm.

Her efforts must have failed miserably because she can feel the heat of him silently rest beside her, and interrupting her movements, his fingers pull at her chin; gently but purposefully pulling her to face him.

She slowly gazes up at those green eyes, and they've changed again. (I will never be able to read him. I'm a fool) He must have regretted his previous harshness because his thin fingers come to the back of her neck and pull her to him, their faces inches apart. The closeness of him still unsettles her.

This is his apology.

He whispers, warmness returning to his voice, "What would you like to know?"

Sansa pauses a moment realizing she hasn't even given this any thought. Then it comes to her in a flash...

"Everything."

Notes:

Soooo, I don't think I'm fully happy with chapter, mainly the layout and dialogue...but it had to happen to further the story along. You can't just skip the awkwardness of the morning after, right?

Let me know what you think, and again, thanks for reading.

** While Florence will be making her appearance many more times, I'll be including stuff from other artists as well. I originally wanted it to strictly stick with F, but there's just too much good stuff out there for that. ;)