Chapter 2

As Sansa walked to the hall where everyone was to meet for dinner she couldn't help but think about everything Petyr had said to her. She knew his motives behind his words. There was more at play here than simply wanting her by his side and him on the Iron Throne. He was trying to get her to usurp her brother. But there had to be more. Jon had been Lord Commander of the Knights Watch. People liked him, followed him. It was more in align with his goals to have him on their side, to stand behind him, rather than be against him. She would make no moves against him until she understood fully what drove him to this course of action.

With that last thought she stopped mid step. Was she seriously considering going up against Jon? Of course she wasn't. He was her brother. Half brother, but brother nonetheless. She shook her head before she began walking again. What a fool she was, letting Lord Baelish into her head like that. Had she learned nothing these past years? He was a man who could not be trusted. This she knew. Yet time and time again she found herself falling under his spell, giving her trust to him too freely. The power he wielded over her was frightening. How has he buried himself so deeply under her skin? How had he wormed his way into her mind and thoughts? She hadn't a clue but she knew she needed to tread much more carefully in his presence. She did not care for the influence he had over her.

As she stepped into the hall she was assaulted by the noise. The room was filled with many men, and one young Lady. Food was being served and she made her way to her seat at the head table next to Jon. The room grew quiet after the last plates had been set down. Sansa had no hunger. Her days activities had stolen what appetite she may have had. As she sat back in her chair she watched the men eat and talk and drink.

And then the men started arguing amongst themselves. The Lords of the North not wanting to align themselves with Wildlings. Jon stood up and stopped their petty squabble. He reminded them how the Free Folk, Kinghts of the Vale, and the Northerns had all just fought side by side to defeat the young Bolton and his rather large army. Some of the men found their duties fulfilled and wished to leave Winterfell and head home because winter had at long last come.

She watched as Jon reminded the men that the war had only just begun. That their duties to their land and their people was not yet over. The mention of the White Walkers put everyone in the room on edge. She could feel the tension rising like bread in an oven. She spotted Petyr in the corner of the room, standing against the wall, taking everything in. He caught her eye and gave her a knowing look. She tried to keep hold of his stare until he broke it first, but she found herself looking away when the blush started to creep up her neck. She despised the feelings he stirred within her.

Just as Jon was losing his audience Lady Mormont stood and gave a rousing speech to all those in attendance. She reminded them of all they had lost; sons, fathers, friends. She chastised them for not standing with Jon and Sansa and helping them fight the Bolton army. She preached how House Mormont remembered. How the North remembered.

In her words "We know no king but the King in the North who's name is Stark."

Sansa looked at Jon. He appeared utterly dumbfounded. No one had ever really praised him, gave him his due credit, as Lady Lyanna Mormont was at this very moment. In her heart she knew that this was a man who deserved to be King. In a world full of men who wanted power, very few actually deserved it. Her half brother was one of them. A small smile grew on Sansa's face as the young Lady spoke on.

The men all started to rumble in agreement. Then slowly, one by one, each man in the hall pledged themselves to Jon and declared him King in the North. Pride bubbled inside Sansa. This was her bastard brother and he was chosen King by all who stood by them.

She stole a look in Petyr's direction and saw him looking around as all the men drew their swords in the King's name. She wouldn't say he looked nervous, slightly uneasy would be a better description. Sansa smiled internally. What did he expect? For all his dominoes to fall into place? For her to stand up and argue against all the Lords? But even though she was quite pleased with the things that were currently transpiring, she couldn't help the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. As much as she hated to admit it, Lord Baelish had an uncanny ability to know things, sense things. If he was uneasy about what was happening she'd be a fool not to proceed with caution herself.

Jon looked to her for reassurance and she gave him a smile, easing his mind that she, too, was on his side. With a last look at Littlefinger, their eyes met. Her small smile slowly faded as she saw the look on his face. It was the look you gave a young lad who was going on about a serious matter they knew not about and you hadn't the heart to stop them and tell them before they made a fool of themselves. Slowly, the unease inside her grew.

As Petyr watched all the men grovel at Jon's feet, wanting forgiveness for their ignoring his requests for help in the battle, he just leaned back against the wall and shook his head ever so slightly. These fools were completely misplacing their trust and loyalty. They knew not what they were saying, blindly following the wrong leader without having all the knowledge in which is needed to make such a decision. Sansa was the true heir to the North. She was the one they should be pledging allegiance to. The one they should be naming Queen in the North.

Petyr caught Sansa's eye and he felt a small sense of relief as he saw her smile slowly fade away into unease. Good. That told him that his words had not fallen on deaf ears. Perhaps that meant that after all these years she had finally learned that when he told her something, she should listen and take heed his advice. A sad look of discontent fell apon his face. Once her face had fully faltered, he stood up straight from against the wall, gave her one last pointed look, then walked out of the hall and outside into the cold.

"Fools, the whole lot of them." He muttered to himself. He wished not to speak with anyone else this night and made his way to his chambers. He had not expected Sansa to act this evening. Did not expect her to stand her ground against Jon Snow. But nevertheless, he was still disappointed in the happenings of the evening. It was expected, yes. Petyr Baelish was a master at reading people and predicting their upcoming actions. It was a true gift of his. He found most people rather predictable and as result, quite dull. It was not often that some one caught him off-guard. Those rare moments, however, he quite enjoyed. Variety was the spice of life, or so they said. He found the momentary interlude from mundane scheming and manipulation quite pleasurable. It kept him on his toes, and his mind sharp.

But those moments were sadly few and far between. The things that this man knew would leave everyone's head spinning. Especially that of Sansa and Jon Snow. He smirked to himself as he entered his chamber and closed the door behind him. The sweet little Direwolf did not know what was coming. He would be the one to share the news with her, of that he was certain. However, he must bide his time and wait for the right moment. He wondered how she'd react when she discovered there were not only wolves residing in her little den of Winterfell.

A/N: I bet y'all can figure out what Littlefinger knows!