Chapter Text
There's a knock on the door of Sansa's bed chamber causing her to to pause from the her needlepoint. "Come in" she says as she stands and places her cloth on her bed side table.
Lord Baelish opens the door, quickly entering the room and closing the large door behind him. "Lady Sansa," his mouth smiles though his eyes betray him "I hear you are to be wed soon."
She politely smiles though on the inside she's screaming for him to help her. "Yes, I leave to Winterfell on the morrow."
He nods solemnly "I'll be accompanying you in fact." He says as he stalks closer to her.
She sighs happily when he stands near, breathing in deeply the familiar minty sent she'd become accustomed to. "I had thought, Lord Baelish, that I would be married to you. As you had promised."
He stroked slowly up and down her long pale arm, not meeting her eyes, "As did I, my lady. Though when I proposed the topic to the council, it was throughly shot down."
The small smile she wore upon her lips due to his touch had fallen quickly. She told a deep sigh before saying "They don't need to give me to you, as they do in fact need to give me to the Boltons. The North doesn't truly see them as they saw Father, and now the crown wants to remedy that." She spoke softly and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was a fool to ever leave home."
"Sweetling," Petyr moved his hand to her shoulder and pulled her down close to him, wrapping his arms around her. "We all make decisions in our youth that bear poor choices in our older years. Though you are correct for seeing the reason for the match."
She uncrossed her arms and brought them around her dear lover. "What can I say, I learned from the best."
She knew her relationship with the master of coin had a time limit, she knew he wasn't in love with her not in the way songs depicted what love was at least, though he did protect her and kept her safe from Jofferys beatings by hiring the hound to be kind.
So when that day, which seemed so long ago, when Petyr had pressed his lips against her own she chose not to questioned it. She simply mimicked his movements, though she was inexperienced at the time she tried with all her might to convey in that kiss how grateful she was to him, the man who tried to save her family and her.
"You should get some sleep, sweetling. We have a long road ahead of us" he caressed her cheek gently with the back of his knuckles. For a moment Sansa thought she actually saw a gleam of happiness there.
"As should you, Lord Baelish." Confidently she leaned a bit down and softly kisses his mouth.
He returned the gesture but no more, instead he turned and went to the door, "Don't forget to dress warm sweetling. Winter is coming after all."
And with that he left.
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The trip to Winterfell was an easy one, people everywhere stood in awe as they saw the last Stark of Winterfell ride through their towns. "The Red Wolf" some called her. She was a hero to them, the last of the Starks the true Warden of the North.
Petyr was still trying to find a way to prolong Sansa's engagement to Lord Bolton, there was still much he had to teach her. No doubt her beauty would sway Lord Bolton to her favor, though he was a cold man he was still a man.
However bitter he was about being spurned by the court over Lady Sansa's hand, he still devised ways that would in the end put his Sansa on the throne.she was a Stark her name alone could chill the bravest to the bone and still ignite passion in the hearts of the northern men.
All he had to do was plant seeds of thought and be patient.
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Roose awoke in the early morning turning to nudge his lady wife's plump body awake, but when his hand went through the cold morning air he let out a groan of deep irritation, his Wife, son, and bastard were dead. Though in mornings as early as these, it was easy to forget.
His wife had been quiet in all regards with the exception of her sleep, it was then her unconscious body would make noises he thought would wake the Starks from death in the crypts.
Lazily he draped his legs off the edge of the bed and sat himself up into a sitting position, he was to meet his new bride today and wanted to make a decent physical first impression.
Roose knew the girl wouldn't trust him out right, he did betray and murder her family. But he had a plan that would hopefully gain a fraction of his bride's favor. Which then would mean the favor of copious amounts of people who were still fiercely loyal the the Stark name.
He dressed quickly into his finest dublet, and made his way to the great hall where a large crate was sat behind a smaller one. He had heard from Queen Cerci that Lady Stark was fond of soft, lovely items and hoped a gift might set them off in the right direction. He only hoped his bride was smarter than her brother, and would actually listen.