Sansa found her chamber filled with the new dresses he had brought back for her. They were all beautiful winter gowns. One of them caught her eye as she searched through her new wardrobe. It was emerald green, however it wasnt what one would call a winter dress. The green cloth was velvet and lined with fur, but there were cutouts all along the gown. Crafty little places to expose the satin like skin beneath. Sansa claimed it as her favorite right away.
The gown reminded her of some of her only real friends. The beautiful red and gold embroidery around the neckline of the bodice brought fond memories back of her husband, Tyrion Lannister. The little man was a monument of the only kindness a Lannister had shown her. At times Sansa's thoughts wondered to what might've become of their union had she not been separated from him so quickly. It grieved her even more that he was locked in a cell in King's Landing for a crime she and her new "protector" had committed.
The gowns emerald green velvet and silks reminded Sansa of her new partner in crime. The Lord Protector of the Vale's colors were green and black, they matched his green eyes and black heart. Sansa didnt think he had a black heart though, or at least she denied it. He had saved her after all, whether there were unsavory intentions behind her rescue or not he had done it. Could it not be argued that a man's actions, despite their hidden meanings, could be the judge of him? Alayne would be proud to wear her father's colors. Sansa would be proud to wear the gift as a symbol of her continued gratitude toward the man she intended to play with.
It was the revealing cut that reminded her of her last friend. Margaery Tyrell was known for wearing scandalous pieces such as this. When the new queen would wear her less than modest gowns she was all confidence and poise. Yet, Sansa couldnt remember a time when her dear friend was ever lacking in those traits. Perhaps donning the garment would allow her the same traits, as if a lack of modesty were the key to bravery.
Sansa's white hands traced over the gown, letting the material shy away from her finger tips. This would be what she would wear tonight to Littlefinger's dinner. She would stomp into that room as a player instead of his pawn. The Stark could imagine now, the faces as she passed. The questions they would ask, all astonished that Lord Baelish had such a pretty daughter. She imagined her graceful path through the dinning room to her seat next to Petyr. How his eyes would roam over her in that familiar way. Sansa Stark couldnt wait to show the Vale what a prize the Lord Protector had.
Her mind was turned to her studies soon after she finished her inventory of the new winter gowns. They'd all be moved down soon, packed away in trunks to be hustled down the mountain to solid ground soon. But for now she could enjoy her chilly chamber, filled with beautiful things and heavy books.
The day went by quickly as she skimmed the stories of the families of the Vale. It could be exceptionally boring, reading who married who and what children they managed to whelp before their demise. But Sansa allowed her child like mind to entertain her, weaving intricate back stories of dread and joy behind every name and union. Surely the histories wouldnt remember how she was tortured by her own infatuation and the one she was infatuated with in King's Landing. The books wouldnt tell of Baelish had whisked her away in the middle of the knight after aiding in King Joffrey's murder. They would simply tell of her marriage and maybe, if she were lucky, her reclaiming of the North.
Her mind was ripped from the thoughts with a quit knock on the door. It was probably her hand maiden come to dress and bathe her for the party tonight. She closed the book and stood by her bed waiting for her hand maiden.
"Come in" Alayne called through the door.
Her back was to the visitor as they entered. She had begun to shimmy out of her heavy woolen gown. It piled on the floor and she turned to the tub they'd just filled while she was reading. Her eyes focused on the steaming water and she waited for the hand maiden to untie the ties on her shift.
A man cleared his throat and she jumped back with a quit screech. Petyr sat with his smirk and his eye brow quirked upward.
"Not very lady like to offer your self to a man you're not married to." His eyes visibly darkened while he looked at her. "But then again, I suppose you've some clever excuse to cover up your intentions? Waiting for you hand maiden to bathe you was it?"
"Not an excuse!" Sansa hurried to pull her woolen gown up from the ground. "She'd just been here filling my bath."
"Yes, I know." He nodded taking a step toward her. "I told her to. And then I told her that she should prepare for the feast and you could bathe your self for today. She'll return in an hour to dress you, I imagine."
"Why would I bathe myself?" Sansa asked cautiously. She was panicking internally. She'd been too inviting earlier. Her seductions had convinced him to come to her chamber, searching for something.
"You wont," Baelish shook his head a fraction, his eyes gleamed in the dimming light of the sun. "I'll help you. I came to assist with the dye."
He wiggled the contents of a dark bottle at her. "It's a new kind. Different than the others, you'll need help to apply it. However for the sake of modesty, I'll ask that you at least keep your shift on for the process."
Sansa sighed in relief and set her woolen dress to the side. This shift was new and meant for winter. It was thick and not too revealing, though the silk still hugged her curves. She could tell he was watching the way it smoothed over the rounding of her hips and breasts. Sansa was used to Petyr showing no shame in his affections for her form.
"Thank you, Lord Baelish." She walked toward the large metal tub, the steam from the water warming her as she neared. Petyr met her there, he dipped his hands in the water and looked to her expectantly.
"Bend over." He commanded, a wet hand resting on her shoulder helping her lean over the tub.
He began to run the dye through her hair in long streaks with his fingers. She could see Petyr's hands dip into the water to the side of her head, long and graceful. His fingers massaged Sansa's scalp in soothing circles, and she relaxed under his touch. She leaned down more heavily on the side of the tub, her body elongating behind her. Sansa could feel his thigh brush past her bum. His fingers hesitated and her entire body tightened at the contact. What was he meaning to do, standing so close back there. She had merely re-positioned herself, not shoved her ass against him. His soothing finger continued their path through her locks and she relaxed once again. He turned her head to the side with his fingers so he might have better access to her temples.
The warm water and the massage had worked her into a quite relaxation. She didnt even notice the moan escape through her lips until it had reached her ears. Her eyes snapped open and she couldnt help but smile. How could the Stark forget her plans? She was being foolish, she could have him in her grips again. Petyr Baelish was a man sorely in need of being put in his place, and Sansa Stark fancied she was the one to do it.
A surge of adventure pulsed through her and she started searching for contact with her rear. There just behind her rested his thigh. Instead of drawing away, this time she shimmied closer to it, careful to let out another little sound of pleasure. He positioned himself loosely, one leg between hers. Her grin widened, one more little shove and her cheeks were flush against the his cock.
Petyr let out a growl, his hand tangling in her hair and pulling roughly. She gasped in pain, her spine arching while her head tilted backward. His other hand fell aware from her hair and to her kneck. Sansa let out a small whine, fear leaking through her limbs at their proximity.
He chuckled from behind her, "Dont bargain with what you arent willing to give."
His voice came out gruff and just near her ear. Her skin raised in goose bumps and as he began to pull away she felt him thrust lightly against the back of her. Her mouth fell open in a sigh that she knew he heard. Sansa straightened her back and turned to him. Petyr had retreated to the other side of the tub, washing his hands in the basin gently.
He looked past Sansa when his eyes raised, focusing on her nightstand. Petyr covered the distance and picked the book up, turning it in his palms.
"Reading up, are you?" He sat down heavily on her bed. "I dont suppose you'd mind if I stayed here to read a little myself?"
She merely blinked and in return he let out a little chuckle. Baelish stood and pulled a divided in front of the tub and her. Sansa heard him sit on the bed and the book opening as she stood stock still on the other end of the curtained divider.
"Go on, sweetling. Rinse out the dye now and get washed up. I'll merely be sitting and waiting for you.
So he tormented her on the side of the heavy drapes. She could hear him breathing, turning pages, shifting, all while she tried to focus on cleaning herself. When her hand maiden finally arrived he didnt move a muscle. Instead, he sat just as he had, chipping away at the huge volume in his lap. Her hand maiden had dressed her in the green gown before they both heard the door open. He left with some parting courtesy, promising to see her at dinner.
As the door latched shut, Sansa felt herself breathe again. Per usual they had remained separated by just a mere piece of cloth. Something built in her throat at first she thought it was how anxious she was to wear the scandalous gown, but then she realized it had been there while he rubbed her hair. It was excitement, something she didnt think she'd truly feel again.