A/N: I am toying around with different POVs. I won't specifically lable each section, I'm sure y'all will be able to figure it out. There will be some sections where you are able to get inside both their heads. I don't like not always being able to know what everyone is thinking in a dialouge so I decided to be more open with this story as compared to my others. Obviously a lot of their thinking (Especially Petyr's) will be around what was said between them in the last episode, but I'm changing when/how it's delivered. Some things are close to direct quotes, but I kinda need them said before we can continue to beyond where the show ended. As always, let me know what y'all think. I'm still quite self conscious about this story.

Chapter 1

As Petyr walked away he couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips. His talk with Sansa hadn't gone how he had expected it to. It had actually gone considerably better. Better than he could have ever hoped. Briskly he made his way back to his chambers so he could be alone with his thoughts and plan out his next move. Lord Baelish was known to be a quick thinker, but having the girl, nay woman, he had grown to care for in ways he hadn't for another since his youth left his wits scattered and mind clouded. Opting to sit in the chair at the window overlooking the main grounds down below over his seat behind the desk, he sank back and let out an elated breath.

As he relived the previous moments a smile grew on his face. He could still picture the look on her face as he told her of his ultimate plans. How he wanted his Games to play out. Never had he been so utterly honest with anyone before. But with her he had. He laid it all out for her to see. Painted a pretty picture of her and him ruling side by side with him on the Iron Throne. He took a risk in kissing her. But what fun is the Game without a few risks being taken? He can say with all honesty that never had he expected her to accept his kiss, and especially not for her to meet it with her own want. Maybe later on, once the scars left by himself and Ramsay had healed more. But certainly not so soon. But what is the point in dweling on that which did not occur? He could find none.

Instead, he chose to remember the taste of her which still lingered on his lips. The feel of her in his hands. He had never held her as such before. Never had he been so forceful in his affections towards her. Sure they had shared a few kisses before, but nothing of the magnitutde which they shared underneath the Godswood.

After a few last moments of reminiscing he needed to get back to the matters at hand. He had been sidetracked and fled before he had taken things too far with Lady Stark under that tree. He had meant to tell her that he had declared himself to House Stark. He knew that once the news of the battle had spread to all the 7 Kingdoms he'd need to align himself with the victors, and by default, Sansa. He had also wanted to be the little bird that whispered in her ear, opening her eyes to her true place in Winterfell. He may love the fierce Direwolf, but he was still playing to win.

As he decided on the new route on which he was to take, given the change in circumstances, he felt himself grow more confident. Maybe getting everything he had ever wanted, everything he had been working towards since Brandon Stark bested him in their duel, wasn't going to take quite as long as he had originally imagined. But Petyr Baelish was no fool. Things may be looking up for him at this moment, but he knew all too well how quickly the winds can change, and alliances broken.

She watched as Petyr retreated back inside the walls of Winterfell. Trying to compose herself and form a coherent thought she brushed off her dress and started towards the gates. She blushed crimson as she neared her home and saw gaurds standing at attention. Had they witnessed their display? Surely they hadn't. The Godswood wasn't visible from their position, just barely out of sight. If they had seen anything, they were respectful enough not to let on. She quickly made her way to her parent's former chambers. Jon had suggested she take them as her own and had seen to having her things moved in there.

As she closed the door behind her she walked to be bed and fell onto it as she had when she was a spoiled girl throwing a tantrum for not getting her way. Embarassed by her behavior with Petyr, both for letting it happen and for how it made her feel, she chastised herself for being so irresponsible. Jon and his army, including the Knights Petyr had brought from the Vale, had only just won back her home and here she was dallying around with her sometimes enemy under a scared tree. She was sure her mother was rolling in her grave at the indiscretion. Nevertheless, she had been careless and could not afford to continue to behave in that way.

She got up off the bed and went to study her reflection in the mirror. She could still see the flush on her cheeks, could still feel his strong hands holding her close to him. She ran her fingers lightly over her cheek and across her bottom lip, following the path he had taken with his thumb. Sansa found herself longing to be back in his embrace. Wanting to feel his body pressed against hers as it had been. She'd desired men before when she'd been an innocent maiden and had not known of how it truly felt to be held and kissed and touched. When her maidenhood had been stripped from her on her wedding night to her second husband she hadn't felt anything close to desire. No kindness, no care, no regard to her feelings or wants. Ramsay had been rough and unforgiving. Not only had he made the experience, and every one after, a nightmare, but to top it all off he'd humiliated her by forcing Theon to watch the procedings. She shuddered at the memory, then reminded herself that that was in the past. She recalled how satisfying it had felt to watch the bastard's own beloved hounds rip him to shreds.

That was to be her new comfort whenever a bad memory came rushing back to her. Remember how helpless he had been. How broken he was after Jon had tenderized his face with his fists. She smiled a small, devious grin at the thought.

She was brought out of her reverie by a knock at the door. "Come in." she called, still staring at her reflection.

"My lady, Lord Baelish has requested your presence in the library." her handmaiden informed her.

"Thank you, Ingrid." Sansa replied.

One deep breath and a last look at herself, she straightened her skirts and headed towards the library. Petyr had said that he'd be calling on her again soon, she just did not believe it to be quite so quickly after the incident in the woods. She was not too surprised though, she knew he would have an agenda, no matter what transpired between them, and he would want to get her on board with his cause. Sansa internally rolled her eyes at the notion. Ever the busy body was Lord Baelish.

As she stepped into the library she saw him standing with his back to the door, facing the roaring fire. She closed the door behind her and made her way towards Petyr.

"Lord Baelish, you wished to see me. Again." she said to his still turned back.

"Aye, I did." he said as he turned around. He made a considerable effort to keep his eyes on her face when all they wanted to do was roam down her tall, slim form and remember. "There were some things I had wished to discuss with you before we were ... distracted." He let his trademark smirk make an appearence at this time and quite enjoyed the flush it brought to her features.

"Yes, Lord Baelish,"

"Call me Petyr, my love. For we are quite familiar with each other at this point." He interuppted to correct her like he did every time she was so formal with him.

"Yes, I suppose we are, Petyr. What did you want?"

"Word of the battle will be spreading quickly to the 7 Kingdoms. I wanted you to know that I have declared myself for House Stark." He had already expected her reaction to this and she did not disappoint.

"You have declared yourself for other Houses before, Petyr, but that has never stopped you from going back on your word as it suits your needs." she replied, putting emphasis on his given name.

"The past is gone now, my love. I see no need in holding on to it and letting it dictate our future. You, dear Sansa, are the future of House Stark. The one true heir to Winterfell." He let his voice grow ever slightly to emphasize the importance of what he was trying to convey to her. "Jon Snow is a motherless bastard, born in the south. Who should the Northerners rally behind?" he asked, raising an eyebrow to his little pawn.

Sansa found herself at a disadvantage. She had suspected he would declare himself for House Stark seeing as he had come to their rescue during the battle. But what she hadn't expected was for him to encourage her to take control of the north over her half brother. She was at a loss.

"Jon is my brother. He knows more of ruling over an army than I do. The battles have just begun..." She trailed off. She knew there was more to being Queen of the North than ruling over armies but it was the best argument she could come up with after being caught off guard.

Littlefinger had suspected she would be unaware of all his plans. But that is the point, isn't it? To always keep everyone guessing. Even if he had trusted her enough to tell her more than most, he still had to keep some things close to the breast. "Aye, he may be a great Lord Commander, but he is no Stark. Not in the way you are dear Sansa. He wasn't raised in the same way you were. He wasn't brought up preparing for the Throne as you have been. It is in your blood to rule, not to stand idly by as someone less fitting takes your place. The people in the North respected your father and your mother. You are their true born daughter born right here in Winterfell. Ruling over them, and in a time, everyone else, is what you were born to do, my love." Petyr said fervently. He could see the wheels turning inside her pretty little head. He knew that the seeds he was planting were taking root. But he also knew it'd take quite a bit more time and work to get her on board than just a few brazen words spoken by the firelight.

"Lord Baelish I..." she began.

He let her formal slip of the tongue go and cut her off stating "Don't say anything now Lady Stark." He could play that game too. "Think on it a bit. We've got time still." And with that he reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and while not taking his eyes off her he placed a lingering kiss on her fingers.

He straightened, turned, and walked out of the library. Leaving her there to consider his words.