SANSA

Sansa glanced down at the white clothing that she had slipped on after her bath. The shock had rendered her speechless. Her wet clothes drying on the tub railing out of the option, she marched out of the bathroom to find Petyr.

The room felt toasty and Petyr shot her an apologetic look. "I had to turn up the heat so that I didn't freeze to death while waiting for you to finish bathing," he teased. "It's not too hot, is it?"

"No, it's fine. Especially since you have me wearing a t-shirt that barely covers me," she huffed, remembering the bone that she had to pick with him. Sansa scowled down again at the white t-shirt that struggled to hit mid thigh. She wore absolutely nothing underneath and any wrong movement would expose a lot more than she was willing to.

"Sweetling, it's all I have," Petyr stated calmly. "I only packed two pants. One of which I'm wearing right now. And it's soaked. The other is the one I will change into after I shower." He paused. "I will bring your clothes in here and lay them near the heater. That would help them dry much quicker."

"Thank you," Sansa replied, smoothing the t-shirt.

Petyr gave her a nod before heading into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

A yawn escaped her and she eyed the bed, thinking of how inviting it looked. Eyelids heavy, she yawned again as her body seemed to realize the lateness of the hour. Sansa got into the bed, wondering if she should pull the thin comforter over herself. The precarious situation with the barely-there t-shirt finally convinced her to cover her body with the comforter even though the room was hot.

She was semi asleep when the feeling of a body pressing against her startled her back to full consciousness. "Petyr?" she asked.

"Shh, go back to sleep," he told her.

But the sleepiness was held at bay for the moment. "Don't you want to talk?" she murmured. His arms were wrapped around her middle and his body heat added to the already pressing temperature of the room. Sansa felt flushed and overheated, but she didn't want to ask for the heat to get turned down. She needed her clothes to dry as quickly as possible so that she could change back into them.

Petyr held her so tightly against him, his body pressed completely against her back. She didn't dare to squirm or move, her bottom was right against his groin. She was aware of the thinness of the t-shirt that she wore. It rode up higher and higher along her thigh, threatening to leave her bottom exposed. The lack of any undergarment beneath the flimsy t-shirt made her uncomfortable.

He can feel everything, she thought, her face burning. And so could she.

"I've missed you so much, sweetling," she heard him murmur into her hair. "Can I treat you special just for tonight?" Petyr pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "Once your brother gets you back, I may never see you again. He'll have you taken away from me."

"That's not true. Jon wouldn't do that," Sansa protested.

"He's too young for any judge to take him seriously if he tried to claim custody of you," Petyr agreed. "But his Uncle Benjen is not. He's already demanding immediate custody of you. He's arguing that he's your uncle by blood while I'm only your uncle by marriage."

Guilty tears flooded Sansa's eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. Jon is good. And Uncle Benjen. They're just trying to protect me." She turned and lay on her back so that she could see him as she explained.

"Shh," Petyr hushed her. "It's just me and you tonight. Let's not spoil it with unpleasant talk. Can I touch you, sweetling?"

His eyes were so sad and Sansa felt extremely guilty for putting Petyr in this situation. He'd always been good to her. Protected her for years. She nodded even as her body trembled, and was rewarded by the happy sparkle in his eyes. His grey-green eyes swirled with heavy emotions as he stared into her eyes and she held back the painful lump in her throat and wondered how disappointed Jon would be if he found out. He would be disgusted.

And Uncle Benjen would kill Petyr.

She almost told Petyr to stop as she felt his hands touching intimate places, but she owed him this much at least, so she kept quiet. Maybe he won't be so sad if I'm not allowed to live with him anymore if he has this memory of us.

"Do you want to take off the t-shirt, sweetling?" Petyr's voice was in her ear even as he kissed up and down her jaw and neck, his small pointy beard slightly chafing her.

Sansa's heart thudded in her chest and her fingers clutched the bedsheets underneath them. "Okay," her voice was small and nervous. It sounded as if it was coming from far away and she winced at the sound of it.

Petyr noticed and rubbed her arms in a comforting manner. "I will take care of you," he promised.

But she was choking and she wasn't really sure if she could be helped.

You let him, a voice reminded.

He helped her slip out of his t-shirt, leaving her completely nude and exposed.

"Goodness, sweetling, you're a beauty," Petyr groaned, his molten eyes drinking her in. "You are my special girl. Always."

"My special girl." It was a soft whisper now. But the words barely registered as a silent scream rang in her ears.

You let him. You let him.

It was a desperate mantra. But the words were as powerless as her.