A/N: You will recognize some of the dialogue. I am trying to stay somewhat true to their characters. I don't believe there will ever be a true reconciliation and joining of these two characters in the show, but a girl can dream.

Chapter 4

Soon enough, Petyr found himself standing outside Sansa's door. He raised his hand to knock but paused midair. He needed to compose himself first. This was obviously a sensitive subject for her, which did not surprise him, and he needed to have his thoughts clear and mind sharp. He did not want her misreading his anger towards the little monster as disgust towards her. A few moment later Petyr was visibly calmer, if not internally.

Knock knock knock. No answer. Knock knock knock. Still no answer. "Sansa? It is me, Petyr. I know you are in there. Please let me in." He asked her through the door. No answer. He tried the knob and found the door locked. Knock knock knock. "Please Sansa, I do not wish to speak loudly though the door, there are too many ears close by." He heard a shuffling sound on the other side of the door and he stood up straight, his arms down flat against his sides. After a few moments the door opened and he stepped inside.

Sansa was hiding behind the door, not letting herself be visible when she had opened it. Her head was down, hiding her features. Once the door was closed and Petyr had locked it he walked up to her and waited a moment. She was scared and nervous and angry. She was angry because she had been crying, and because he had seen. She was nervous because a part of her wanted him to want her, to find her desirable. That was a lie. More than just a part of her wanted that. The whole of her wanted him to want her. After all he'd done to her, all he'd put her through, she still loved Petyr Baelish. She still wanted him like she had in the Eryie. She was scared that he would not want her if he knew just how broken Ramsay had left her. And then, the anger was back, it was his fault she was like this. He may not have hurt her with his own hands, but he had wed her to Ramasay. He had taken her from monsters that murdered her family and given her to other monsters who had murdered her family.

Of all her emotions anger won out. She looked up at him, fire in her eyes. He stepped back, startled by what he saw.

"Sansa, you ran off. You ran off before I could say anything..."

She cut him off, "What did you want to say, Petyr?"

"I wanted you to know that I think you are beautiful. I think you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I know you have been through horrific and terrible things, but none of that changes the fact that I think you are true and rare beauty. Even with the scars left behind, you are still most beautiful to me." He tried to ease her mind, assuming she was mad he'd seen the marks she had obviously wanted to stay concealed.

"Beautiful? I'm still beautiful to you?" She said in a sardonic tone. "Well Gods, I should hope that I am still beautiful to you. You are the reason this happened to me. You are the reason I married Ramsay Bolton. You gave me to him! Did you not know what he was like?" She asked. Uninterested in his answer she continued. "If you didn't know what he was like you are an idiot, and if you did you are my enemy." She spat.

Petyr was yet again caught off guard by her reactions. "I swear to you, I had no idea he would... I underestimated a stranger. It is a mistake I will never make again, I swear to you." He pleaded. She did not look convinced. "Sansa, I am so sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry. What do you think he did to me? Tell me." She demanded.

"Sansa, I can't even begin to contemplate..."

"Tell me!" She yelled.

"He bite you?" He asked, even thought he had seen the evidence first hand.

"Yes. What else do you think he did to me?" She implored.

"Did he cut you?" As much as he wanted her to say no, he could assume that he would have seeing as their house sigil was a flayed man.

"Oh yes, he definitely did that. Would you like to see?" She sneered at him. Sansa was riding high on her anger now, enjoying watching the Lord squirm.

Petyr did not know how to respond. Her actions were contradicting her normal behavior. His mouth opened and he slightly shook his head, unsure what to say.

"Well it doesn't matter what you want. You are going to see. I am going to show you what your scheming, and lies, and manipulations have done to the one you say you love." And with that she began to undo her dress.

Petyr walked to her and placed his hands atop hers trying to halt her actions. "No, you don't need to show me. I am truly sorry, I am. I did not know."

She brushed his hands aside harshly and continued in her task. She let her dress fall to the ground around her feet. She still wore her shift that went under her dress and her small clothes, so she was not fully bare to his eyes. She pulled the neckline of her shift to the side to reveal the scar he had already seen. "You are aware of this one. Are you not?" She asked. "Are. You. Not?" She asked again, in a more demanding tone when he did not answer.

"Yes." Petyr answered meekly.

"Good. On to the next." Her shift had buttons all the way down the front to the bottom hem. It was a thicker material, made for winter. She steadily undid the top four buttons, revealing the top of her bosom. Before she opened the top she looked back up at him, wanting to witness his reaction.

Petyr looked into Sansa's eyes, silently pleading with her to stop, that this wasn't necessary. But she was having non of that. He saw in his periphial vision that she had opened the top of her shift and hesitantly he looked down. His eyes widened ever so slightly at what he saw. Trying his best to hide his emotions he chanced a glance back to her eyes. Her gaze was steely and unforgiving. Petyr swallowed hard and looked back down to the mark on her breast, identical to the one he had found on her shoulder. He wanted to touch it, erase it and the memory of its origin with a sweep of his fingers.

"Lovely little mark, isn't it?" She said in mock praise. Petyr was smart to keep his mouth shut. "I'll spare you my torso, for that was not harmed so much as the rest of me. My dearly departed husband had wanted an heir after all." She let go of her underdress but didn't bother to button them back up.

Petyr was surprised as she reached down to grab the hem of her shift and lifted it high, entirely too high to be considered appropriate. But propriety was not a top concern of hers at the moment. He dared to look down at her long, pale legs and was unable to control his gasp at what he saw. He looked up at her and saw a triumphant smile on her face. Petyr's own face reflected the profound regret he felt within himself.

"Look at it. Look at what you did to me when you gave me to him." She hissed. "You see this one there?" She asked, pointing to a gash that was still healing. "He did that one last. Before Theon and I escaped. And this one," she said pointing to her other thigh "he did the week we married. You see it? I am branded. I am his. Forever his. This shall not go away, ever. Every time I look down at it I am reminded of where he has been, what he has done. Every time you close your eyes I want you to see it too. I want you to remember what your actions did to me." Her voice was breaking now, just as his heart was.

Petyr did not dare to look at her face, instead he reached out and touched her healing wound. She flinched away from him as if his touch was that of a viper who had struck. She backed up to the wall and he looked up at her and walked towards her. This time he reached for the scar she had shown him on her breast. His eyes never leaving hers, he reached forward and held her underdress in his fingers. Slowly, he looked down and opened the unbuttoned flap, revealing the mark on her delicate flesh. Gently, he traced his finger around the oval, as he had on her shoulder. Keeping his eyes on his fingers, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on the mark, lingering there, proving he was not afraid.

She stiffened under his touch and froze at his kiss. She had expected him to see her skin, see what was left of her once perfect body and run. Surely no one would want her as she was now. But she had been wrong, like so many times before. She wanted to hate this man, and in many ways she did. But not in enough ways to make her stop him. She longed to be touched gently, to be cherished, to be loved. He was giving her all of that and more. She didn't have the strength to turn him away any longer. She found that her broken and confused heart could love and hate the same man all at the same time.

Petyr began to undo the rest of the buttons before she realized what was happening. She reached up to stay his hands and he looked deep into her eyes and said, "No, my love, let me. I want to see. I want to see everything. You're beautiful and I want to make you feel that way." She dropped her hands to her sides in response. He continued until he reached her waist and the shift fell off her shoulders and to the ground. Standing there in front of him with nothing but her small clothes on and the firelight dancing across her skin, his heart stopped. She was more breathtaking than he could have ever imagined. He drank her in, from bare feet all the way up to her fiery braid that had loose tendrils framing her angelic face.

Leaving what little she had left on alone, he continued his soft touches all over her body. He dropped to his knees in front of her and kissed every knick across her middle. Her stomach clenched and her breath hitched each time his lips touched her body. He looked up and saw her eyes closed and tears falling silently down her cheeks. He looked to the letters engraved on her leg and red hot anger flashed within him, boiling up, threatening to spill out. He kissed her there, and on her other leg where the healing wound was.

While still on the floor in front of her he used his hands to guide her into turning around. With her back to him, he was now free to let all his emotions play out on his face. The lashes that were peppered all over her backside from her legs up to her neck were his undoing. Resting his head agains her lower back, his hands on her hips, he gave himself a few minutes to calm himself. Petyr Baelish was not a man who was known to cry, but this night he found himself doing just that. What had he done to his love, to his brave little Direwolf?

Sansa felt a bit more at ease with her back to him. The tears stopped falling as she pressed her forehead against the wall. After a while she felt wetness where Petyr's face was pressed against her back. Was he crying? Surely Lord Baelish did not cry. Did he? But yet, the evidence proved it to be true. Was he crying over her ruined body? Was he displeased with what he saw, and because of it found her grotesque?

"Petyr, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." She began, apologizing for forcing him to look at her appalling appearance. Before she could finish her sentence he had turned her back around, silencing her words. He stood before her and grasped her face in his hands and kissed her. He kissed her softly, sweetly, and with a sadness that she felt too. As he kissed her the tears began to fall once more. He did not act aggressively, instead his kisses stayed sweet and light. While still holding her face in his hands, he moved to kiss her eyes and cheeks, erasing any traces of tears. He kissed her lips once, twice, thrice more, then let his hands travel down her arms to hold her hands and took a step back.

"Sansa, do not ever apologize for anything. You have done nothing wrong. I am the one who has wronged you. I am the one who caused you all this pain, all this hurt. I shall never forgive myself for what has happened to you and would completely understand if you did not forgive me yourself. You are beautiful. My opinion on the matter has not changed. Everything you've done, everything you've been though has made you into the woman that stands before me today. If I could take back all your pain, all your suffering, I would. Without hesitation. But I can't. So all I can do is stand here and tell you that I love you. I love every part of you. Every wound, every scar, every memory, good or bad. I love you Sansa Stark. That is a truth I can no longer deny."

Sansa wanted to call him a liar, wanted to see the deceit in his eyes and cast him out of her life for good. But she knew just from looking at him that he only spoke the truth. She believed that he truly did lover her, just as she was. In that moment Sansa never felt more beautiful or strong. His words rose her up from the depths of despair and brought her into the light. She shivered as the cold made its way through the heat that he had created in her.

"My dear, let us get you dressed before you catch a cold." He said as he reached for her robe that had been laid on her bed by Ingrid earlier in the day. He wraped her in the thick robe and led her to her bed. "Lay down my love, and I will hold you." Petyr said.

She did as she was told and made sure he had room to lay down beside her. She curled up on her right side, her back to him, and he pulled her close to his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He kissed her hair and whispered in her ear "I love you. I'm not going anywhere. Get some sleep. I'll be here all night and when you wake in the morning." And with his words she closed her eyes and let sleep come.

Sansa slept without a nightmare, and had the best sleep she'd had since before she first left Winterfell for Kings Landing all those years before.

Let me know what y'all think! Do you like where the story is headed?