Little Wolf (Sansa/Petyr)

Wounded Ego

Sansa stood, enfolded in Petyr's arms and felt rather ridiculous. Here she was, the supposed Wardeness of the North, crying and being held in comfort. Every muscle in her body told her to move, to pick herself up and check herself, to be the woman people thought her to be. But she had been that woman for too long. Her wounds had amassed and she was hurt. So, for this moment, she allowed herself to weep into the chest of Petyr Baelish.

He could feel her resistance, her pride not allowing her to be held and helped. However, after a while, her arms moved, wrapping themselves around his neck. He placed his palms flat on her back and pulled her closer. She had no one to hold her this way, to aid her in this way. No one but perhaps him.
"Shh, I am here." He cooed to her.
"But for how long?" She asked, envisaging him returning to the Vale, abandoning her.
"For as long as you will have me." He reassured her. She looked up to him questioningly and he nodded, answering an unspoken question. She smiled and released herself from his grip. Surprisingly, they managed to return to their meal and continued eating.

Sansa was unsure what to say, how to begin a conversation. However, Petyr soon found a topic to speak about.
"I will not hurt you as he did." He began, sipping on his soup. Sansa was unsure as to whom he spoke of: Joffrey or Ramsey. However, it didn't seem to matter so much.
"You were so young when you were first brought here. So young and innocent, blindly trusting." He continued and she listened in silence.
"So many took advantage then and I must admit that I was tempted. A beautiful young woman, from one of the most powerful houses in Westeros, it was tempting. But watching you change, slowly become less trusting of those around you, made me glad that I had not betrayed you." Sansa didn't know how to reply.
"But, I did betray you." He stated simply, looking down into his soup. Sansa did not know what to say. He was correct, he had betrayed her and she was unsure how such a wrongdoing could be undone.
"Why did you come with me? Why do you stay?" He asked her, wondering why such a beautiful vibrant young woman would limit herself with his presence.
"I don't know." She replied before she could think and looked up immediately to find the deeply offended expression of Lord Baelish.
"I think you should go." He stated. He was not so much angry at her, rather, angry at himself. He had made a massive mistake in sending her to Ramsey and he was unsure if he could ever forgive himself and looking at her in that moment made him think of all the despicable things he had done, so she had to go, only if for his ego to be rebuilt.

Sansa did not say anything, she had said enough. She merely stood, stomach still hungry for food and walked away, away from the man who sat crumpled and defeated. She wished she could do something. But as a lady, she was forbidden to make her feelings publicly known. She rushed back to her room, fearing that tears would spill over at any moment. When she arrived at her quarters, she slammed to door shut and slid down the oak. Her chest shook as she wept. She had opened the floodgates and there was no closing them now. She wept for her Father, for her Mother and Brothers, for her sister, wherever she might be and for herself. They had all suffered, most had died and here she was, crying over the choice to love or not love a certain man. She shook her head and attempted to pull herself together. Only then, did she receive a knock at the door.
"Who is it?" She called, nose running and voice hoarse.
"It is Gretchen, my Lady. I have a rather pressing issue for you." She called through the door.
"Can't it wait until morning?!" Sansa called.
"No, not really." Gretchen replied in haste.

Varys and Tyrion stood after dinner, watching Baelish and Sansa in the gardens. They remained silent, until Sansa had been gone for a few moments.
"Do you think she cares for him?" Tyrion asked.
"She loves him." Varys replied with such certainty that Tyrion took his eyes away from the sulking Baelish.
"How can you be so sure?" Tyrion asked. Varys smirked at the question, but continued to answer.
"You simply have to watch her. Everything she does, is fueled by his reaction. Even if he is not present, she acts as if he were, in anticipation for his arrival. She does not realise that she is doing it, but she does." Tyrion nodded and silenced himself in contemplation. She had seemed awfully confident and when they had spoken of Lord Baelish earlier in the day, it was obvious that she cared somewhat for him.
"Perhaps you are right. Do you think he cares for her?" Tyrion asked, holding Varys' opinion in the highest regard.
"I fear, with Littlefinger, that only time can tell." Varys replied and they both grimaced, hating to play the waiting game.

Sansa ran through the halls of the Red Keep, upon hearing the news on Arya.
"My Lady, please do not run. If you fall on your dress!" Gretchen called after her, but Sansa heard nothing, her mind was only focused on seeing her sister again. She panted and huffed as she reached where Arya had been kept waiting. She was dressed in rags, with short hair and a dirty face. But Sansa had never seen a more beautiful sight. She ran faster than she had ever in her life and collided with her little sister. For the first time in her life, Arya returned the embrace. They both wept, having found one another and spent a moment enjoying each other's embrace. Sansa than held Arys at arm's length and looked, truly looked at her. She had no serious injuries and she looked mature, and pretty. Sansa chuckled and looked back to Gretchen.
"Is there a room prepared for my sister?" She asked and Gretchen simply began leading them through the Red Keep.

Sansa wanted to ask everything, to learn what happened to Arys in those years that they had been apart. She wondered if she knew about their Mother and Brother, knowing that she must inform her if she did not. However, she simply could not bring herself to begin a conversation. It had been so long and they were both so different now that she felt she was walking beside a stranger. But Arya Stark was not a stranger, she was Sansa's flesh and blood and she was sure that within time she would learn of what had happened to her sister. However, that time would not be tonight.
"I am shattered, I have travelled without rest for days. Please, let me rest and we shall speak tomorrow." Arya begged and Sansa ran her fingertips across her sister's cheek.
"Of course, rest and we shall speak of all." Both Gretchen and Sansa left Arya to her own devices, upon request and Sansa dismissed Gretchen for the evening. She laid in bed, her mind filled with bewilderment and shock. After so many years that they had been apart, Arya had finally returned. And with the situation of Bran looking so bleak, they were the only Starks left. She wondered how she would begin to explain what had happened and was struck with a terrifying thought: Arya always knew Sansa's feelings better than anyone, even herself and if she was still the same Arya all she would have to do was take one look at Sansa and Petyr together and know what was happening. This thought scared her, but when she honestly thought about the situation, she was doing nothing wrong. Perhaps he was a little old for her and perhaps he was not the most obvious choice, but Sansa cared for him and perhaps Arya could help her figure out why.