Sansa attempted to stay alone as much as possible the next few weeks. After Petyr had left for his business outside of the Vale, she was charged with occupying Sweetrobin. It was an unpleasant responsibility. He was a spoiled child, weak and fretful. Often times his temper tantrums would turn into his frightful little fits. She had confided in Petyr before he left, nearly begging him not to leave her in the Vale. In response he had merely repeated his previous statement.
"If you're not here, sweetling, whom can I trust to act as the protector in my stead?"
Much to her chagrin protecting the Vale in his instead of him meant the attending to the dying little lordling as well. He would crawl into her bed most nights, attempting to suck milk from her breasts. When his mother, Lysa, was alive she had encouraged it in him. Sansa fancied that his weakness stemmed from that and she often worried that now he would adapt without it and grow stronger.
She was well aware of what would happen if the boy failed to keep his end of the bargain; to die in a timely manner. She would have to wed the nasty little thing. Her fingers cut into her palms as she pondered what it would be like to have to marry him. Even as her new, stronger self, Alayne, it would be an immense burden. Bedding the wretch would break her, she was sure of it.
And what of Petyr? Would he allow her to do such a thing? Sansa's mind wandered comfortingly toward her only friend in the castle that was now far away. He had been gone for nearly two months now, and he'd not sent back any correspondence either. She meant to do something about that as soon as he returned. Sansa had created a detailed plan to follow for this venture. She'd greet him and she'd begin the grand manipulation that she had thought over in her head plenty of times. Sansa Stark would demand news from the outside world. It was information she was sure he knew of. Next she would demand a meeting with her betrothed Harry Hardying. And thus the plan would continue, she'd manipulate that devilish little man. Sansa Stark would hold him ransom, because now she knew what he wanted. As he'd told her before that was the key to controlling your pawns. And her pawn was what he would become.
Sweetrobin spotted her walking amoungst the drafty hallways. He waved excitedly and walked as fast as he could without exerting himself terribly. She applied Alayne's smile to her face and bent in her thick woolen gown to greet him as he came toward her. He stopped short suddenly, drawing himself up to his full height and then lowering into a deep bow.
"My lady," He greeted genially.
"My lord," She returned, sinking into Alayne's unpractied curtsy.
"How do you fare this day?" He grinned at her.
"I'm very well and yourself?"
"I'm quite well. Father has come home. He's brought back all sorts of wonders. You should see, Alayne. I saw many dresses for you, and for me he's brought me back new blunt swords to practice with."
Her heart beat faster in her chest. Baelish was home and it was time she put her pawn to work. Sansa was sure there wouldnt be much resistance. While her mother had granted her many privileges, the gift of looking exactly like her would soon be more valuable to her than any of the others.
"Well we must go out and greet our Lord Father then," Alayne grabbed the boy's hand tugging him lightly toward the entrance hall of their grand home.
As is with any castle or keep, it took time to get to places. Thus, Alayne and Sweetrobin arrived just as Lord Baelish and his collection of supplies from far off lands had reached the top of the mountain to enter the castle. She heard his voice rise above the room, echoing against the walls before she actually saw the slight man.
Petyr seemed to find her as she rounded the corner. He had been looking for her. His sharp green eyes focused and his impossibly confident strides covered the distance between them quickly.
"My lovely daughter," he commended as his hands clapped on her shoulders. He lowered his head to grant a chaste kiss on her lips. Petyr's grin widened while his eyes rested carefully on her, lingering longer than was proper for a father and daughter.
Just as quickly as he had found her his attentions had moved to the little boy by her side. He began quizzing him, asking questions about his learnings over the months he had been gone. It was an interesting relationship the two had, the boy looking up to the only father figure he had ever known. While the father awaited the boys death without patience.
"I suppose you already know what I've brought home for you then?" Petyr smiled widely at the boy.
Robin nodded quickly and Petyr pointed to a cart that the boy wandered up to. Demanding his prizes be brought down for him first.
"What a charming child," Petyr remarked coldly. Shooting a quick grin toward Alayne. She returned the smile she had practiced. Petyr flicked his hand at his men, notifying them of his leave of absence. Petyr wrapped his arm warmly around Alayne's shoulders guiding her towards the inards of the castle.
"Come my dear," He commanded, steering her away from the entrance hall. "There are some matters to attend to."
"Yes I suppose there is." She snapped quietly.
He chuckled darkly as he looked to her. "Are you angry with me?"
She crossed her arms and looked ahead in reply. He stopped, his eyes wavering as he turned her roughly towards him.
"Tell me now." He purred, "I wont allow you to treat me so. You wont keep me geussing."
"Not returning for months on end without a shred of correspondance is not a good reason to be angry? My apologies for my misplaced jugdement, then." She glared. "Is your curiosity slated then? Can we continue to our business?"
"Oh how flattering." He pressed her shoulder lightly, escorting her down the corridor. "Were you worried about me? Or perhaps you're just as hungry as I for information."
"Are you going to share then?" She snapped at him again as they reached his solar. He shut the door behind them and went to sit by the fire. He must've ordered his fire to be prepared for his arrival, for it burned brightly. "Or are you to keep teasing me? Keeping me in suspense."
"I'll always keep teasing you. I can only hope you're in suspense." His green eyes flitted toward her darkly, his impish grin spreading across his face.
Sansa felt herself blush without permission. She turned away, angry with herself. It was crucial that she have self control. This was her turn to be in charge now, not his.
"I've been thinking, sweetling. Merely, reconsidering some future steps." He began slowly.
Sansa busied herself with pouring wine for the both of them so that she might regain her composure. She brought the two fine crystalline glasses over, handing one to him and settling herself at the foot of his chair by the fire.
Petyr took a careful sip of the wine and his eyes flung downward to pierce her again. At times they could be so friendly, framed with one of his famous smiles. But now, they were as scrutinizing and mischievous as ever. Sharp and dangerous, just like the mind they sat in front of.
"Come now, I don't want you seated on the cold stone." His lips pulled into his half moon smirk. "Not when your father has a perfectly good knee to be occupied."
His graceful hand reached down to help her up and pull her firmly onto his lap. He leaned back in the large chair, pulling Sansa's side against him. His hand rested possessively on her head against his chest, the other resting lightly on her thigh, balancing his glass.
"Before you're wedded to your dearly betrothed Harry. I want to take you on a trip with me. You're proving a much faster learner than I had hoped. You might call our next escapade a test of your abilities."
He licked his lips distractedly while watching her lay in his lap. His hand brushed her hair lightly, fingers running along her temples. Sansa felt herself relax slightly in his arms. It was a truth that he was her only friend here, both a blessing and curse. He made for a poor confidant, and at the same time an excellent one.
"Oh my, we'll have to die your hair again it seems. Quite a bit of red coming back into it now. I must admit though I'll be relieved when we wash this dull brown and see that true shade again."
He hoisted himself slightly, turning to look at her closer. His fingers slid down the length of her jaw to stroke her neck.
"You should do it tonight before you get ready for the dinner this evening." He commanded.
"Dinner? An event?" She asked, her voice breathier than she intended. His jaw seemed to clench as she met his eyes. She adjusted her bottom, wiggling slightly. Sansa could visibly watch his eyes darken, his lashes flutering. What a dangerous way to play the game.
"An event, certainly." He cleared his throat, his hand gripping her waist, attempting to re-position her in a more comfortable fashion. But she held fast, the hand not holding her glass of wine lacing upward to rest on his shoulder.
"Who'll be there?" She asked, her own fingers dancing circles on his always covered collar bone.
"From naval to collar bone you said?" She was nearly whispering, her voice filled with light breathe. She was careful to let it tickle past the well groomed beard onto his neck. Sansa could see the goose bumps rise on his throat, his adams apple bobbing. "And all for a woman. It wasnt about a piece on the board then. Hmm, how romantic."
"I used to think so," He commented as if he were speaking of the small changes in weather. His hand hoisted her thigh carefully, holding her still on his lap.
Sansa grinned at her Lord Protector, her fingers casually rose to pick at his high collar. She made a grave face and looked to her feet hanging over the side of his knees.
"I always thought she was foolish when I first heard the story. She had a prince then, someone who wanted to save her. Protect her from harm and rise with her. Someone who wanted so dearly to love her. And instead she followed the rules, married duty. Her only bit of luck in life is that she married my father instead of Brandon. I cant imagine what might've changed had he survived. Her luck would run out there I suppose. Or perhaps it was the length of which her intelligence could stretch." Sansa spoke as if recalling a memory, more to herself then to him. But she watched his eyes cloud, his lip pressing slightly at the mention of her dead mother. His long lost love.
"None the less, it was romantic. Something I don't think I'll ever know." She pulled herself off of his lap after finishing her wine. "Tell me, Lord Baelish, is it a lonely life you breed me for?"
She was careful to scrunch her features in genuine worry, adding her strong grip on the wine glass as an after thought. His jaw clenched as he regarded her, his eyes once wide and inviting now narrowed into slits.
"It can be." His eyes roamed from her toes to her head and back again. "It's true, power wont warm your bed. But remember the ladder, my sweet pupil."
He lifted himself from the seat as well. Petyr seemed to walk directly towards Sansa, his face darkening as he came closer. At the last moment he turned toward his desk on the other side of the room, headed toward the decanter of wine waiting for him. It left his warm breathe on her face and she flushed again.
"Don't worry my little bird, it's really not as lonely as it seems. You may be lucky enough after all to find what your mother could in such... plenty." He nearly sneered at the memory of her.
Sansa watched how Petyr's face altered when he thought of Catelyn now. The clear sadness and anger, it frightened her more than the prospect of playing with a man such as him. What if she were to turn out like Petyr. It was true she fancied herself his legacy. Was Sansa not then doomed to live like him. Dreadfully lonely with nothing to warm her bed besides whores from a brothel she owned.
"I suppose you would'nt have an empty bed very often though..." Sansa pondered, stalking towards the wine decanter in his hand. She held her glass out to poor. His hand laced up over hers and peeled it away from her. "I would guess that owning a brothel has it's perks. Such as never finding your sheets cold. That is, if not a little soiled."
Petyr laughed openly at that. "And what would you know of soiling a bed, dear Sansa Stark. Oh yes! But I forgot you were married once werent you. Tell me, what was it like to rut with the dwarf. I must know, is it proportional to the rest of him? As knarled as his legs, equally stumpy too?"
"You're right, Lord Baelish." Sansa smirked, her eyes fluttering. "I don't know anything about soiling a bed."
"Then the marriage was not consummated, as you say?" He watched her slyly from the corner of his eye. His hand tipping the wine down his throat causally.
"No," She shook her head turning toward the door.
He grabbed her arm and spun her back towards him. "I think you're leaving without something crucial darling."
"Oh?" She blinked, legitimately surprised. Her bravery was wavering. She needed to leave the room. She could only taunt him for so long before he caught on.
"Well what was the point of your little seduction if not to earn your information?" His breath tickled her face as he leaned closer.
He turned away and went to sit again in his arm chair, spinning in his seat to watch her standing stock still a distance away. His half moon grin spread like a fungus across his face.
Petyr giggled lightly, "Come now, Sansa, you didnt think I wouldnt know what you were doing. A waste of time though, I was going to tell you anyway."
He swirled the remainder of his wine in his glass before his green orbs returned to pierce her soul. "We're returning to Winterfell before your marriage. The boy will be desposed of by the time we get back. You'll be fit for the new Lord of the Vale. Your red hair flowing over you shoulders as we display the last remaining dire wolf. By gods, what a prize you are, sweetling."
"I trust then you've brought new dye?" She inquired, attempting not to look completely stunned by this change of events.
"Of course, up in your chamber now with your new dress you'll wear this evening." He replied, all business and decorum again.
"Mmm," She nodded as she made her way toward the door. Sansa turned once more to find Petyr approaching again. "One last question..."
He purred again as he got closer, his strong hands resting lightly on her waist. Petyr raised his eye brows pointedly at her, waiting for her to respond.
"How are we going to reclaim Winterfell?" She asked, truly dazed.
"All in good time," he chuckled, "Oh, but I promise it'll be great fun."
She turned to leave, but his hands clamped down, holding her still.
"You forgot something Alayne." He sighed as if she were being unruly. "Arent you going to kiss your father after his long journey. After all, what news I've brought."
Sansa hesitated, her eyes had been resting safely away from his, but now she had to look up. Petyr had eyes like green daggers and he watched her with a mixture of greed and desire. She nearly shuddered but stopped herself. It was her game now just as much as his. And she would strive to play it as well as he, her teacher, would want her to.
Her hands crawled up the length of his chest to wrap around his neck and pull his head down to her. Sansa pressed her lips to his roughly. The little sound of surprise he made, forced her to smile against him. Petyr grew more eager, his hands pulling her closer to him, his tongue beginning to beg entrance past her lips. But she pulled away, resting her head under his chin.
"So nice to have you back, Father." Sansa peeled his hands away from her sides and turned to the door, opening it quickly. She smiled back at him, batting her lashes demurely.
"And it is a joy to see me daughter again." He replied from within his office. His bright voice didnt match the dark look on his face. His lips forced up in his gruesome smile, his eyes dark and his hands clenched. He bit his lip as she waved goodbye and retreated to the safety of her own chambers.