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Sansa's eyes snapped open.
What happened?
She shielded her pupils with the back of her hand from the blinding sunlight.
Where was she?
Sansa closed her eyes again, sighing. She swallowed thickly, her throat dry.
A half an hour earlier.
"Sansa Stark."
Her eyes widened in surprise, stepping fully into the tent.
"I've been expecting you." The red woman's deep, commanding voice filled the tent. "Sit down."
Sansa listened, sitting down in front of her. The witch was burning some kind of incense that made her nose scrunch up. The whole tent had a strange aura about out, and it was almost too hazy to see her face properly.
Sansa cleared her throat, more so to disguise her sudden desire to cough the fog from her lungs.
"Melisandre." She began, watching the woman waft the incense-smoke towards her. She narrowed her eyes as she watched her. "I'd like to speak to you about-"
"The battle of the bastards." She finished for her as if the topic bored her. "You're afraid. You think your half-brother will lose."
Sansa swallowed. "Yes."
"And you want the help of the Lord of Light to beat your husband." She added, closing her eyes to breath in the incense deeply.
"We will need something to beat him. That I know." Sansa explained, but the Red Woman just waved her off.
"The Lord of Light does not waste his time when there's a very plausible solution to your problem." She said, clasping her hands together and staring her down.
"I don't know what you mean." Sansa replied, her mind wandering to her conversation with Petyr in Mole's Town not long ago. He had an army waiting for her, but out of spite she refused to accept his help. She didn't want to need him anymore.
"Yes you do, Sansa Stark."
Sansa broke eye contact to look down at her hands. How could she know? But then again, how could she do any of the magic rumoured that she had?
"I can't trust him. He's dangerous and selfish and accepting his help would be a mistake." Sansa said sternly, looking back up at her. Her lips were pursed.
"And yet… you, your brother and his entire army will die without him." She rebutted, raising a single eyebrow. Sansa swallowed down her anger. Anger wouldn't help now. "Your pride or your life, Stark. It's your decision."
Sansa frowned. It wasn't that simple. If she'd help in a different way-
"How am I to know he can be trusted?" Sansa asked, knowing it didn't really matter at this point, but not yet wanting to admit defeat.
The Red Woman stood, walking around a table which was scattered with different kinds of stones, gems, potions in the making, powdered and crushed stone. Sansa eyed the ingredients with curiosity until her attention was brought back to the woman dressed head to toe in crimson.
She was gazing into the flames of the candles lining the edges of a table further away from where they were originally sitting. To Sansa's surprise, the flames began to dance unnaturally. Sansa stood, shocked at what she was seeing.
"You see it, don't you?"
Sansa swallowed down the lump in her throat. "How is that possible?" She breathed as she watched the outline of a man -no- boy , flicker through the flames. He was fighting something.
Soon another figure came into view. A much larger figure. He was fighting the young boy and, not surprisingly, winning.
Sansa was entranced in the battle. The heat of the fire and the flickering of the bright flames drew her in further. She moved closer as she watched the man push the boy down to a river, or what she assumed must have been a river. He was knee deep in rushing water and rocks, but he kept fighting. Sansa's heart instantly called out to this boy. She only wondered what he could possibly be fighting so hard for.
Blow after blow was slowly defeating the young boy. Every one he blocked, she saw his body shake under the force of it… watched the muscles in his body quiver violently. He was no match, that was a given. Dark red flames were flickering off the boy's figure and Sansa came to understand it was the blood seeping from various places on his body to show the injuries he's suffered thus far.
The boy was getting tired, but he was too determined to stop… to submit, but Sansa could see him struggling. She could see him crumbling.
Eventually the man seemed to get fed up, and slashed the boy's sword hard so it flew out of his hand. The next blow was the last one, and by far the worst. It was a slice up the center of his body, making the boy freeze before red flames burst from his chest and his figure faded into the flames.
Sansa blinked slowly when the flames released their hold on her. She stepped back, regaining control over her body again. When she was watching the flames, it was like that was all that mattered. She couldn't do anything but watch. She couldn't think about anything but the duel.
Something wet dripped onto the top of her chest and she looked down in confusion before realizing the source of the water. They were tears: her own tears. She'd been crying?
She wiped at her face with slight embarrassment before turning to look at the Red Woman once again. She was watching Sansa carefully… curiously.
"I've been working on something." She spoke softly, far softer than she had before. Sansa felt vulnerable and she suspected Melisandre had sensed that.
Melisandre spun around and approached the table that Sansa had eyed up earlier. She reached into a small bowl that contained a dusty oxblood-colour of powder. Sansa admired the woman's long nails and wondered, for a brief moment, how she kept them so neat despite their length.
She pulled out a small gem which matched the colour of the dust, and dropped it into another bowl which seemed to contain half-melted snow.
The smoke that had filled the room seemed to be getting thicker and thicker by the second and Sansa moved her mouth into the crook of her elbow and coughed, relieving her lungs as best she could. Meanwhile Melisandre wasn't fazed in the slightest.
"I'd like you to try it." She added, mysteriously. Sansa narrowed her eyes on her.
"What do you mean?" She asked anxiously.
The Red Woman hid her smile as she brought the gem out of the cold water and began drying it on a cloth nearby. Sansa was amazed by the deep, true oxblood shade of the gem. It was small… about the size of the pad of one of her fingers.
Sansa watched as she placed the gem in a silver base, enclosing it before threading a thin chain through a part of the silver. A necklace.
Melisandre held it up to her and without thinking, Sansa grasped at it and listened to the witch when she instructed her to put it on. Sansa pulled it over her head and admired it's enchanting beauty from the place it rested over the dip in her collarbone.
Suddenly Sansa felt drowsy and she wondered if it had to do with the haziness of the tent from what she was burning, the flame dancing, or the necklace around her neck that slowly began to burn.
"When you want to come back… just take off the necklace." She told her as Sansa backed up to sit down on the chair she had accompanied earlier. "And you don't need to worry about the butterfly effect… once you leave it'll be like you were never there."
Her eyes felt heavy. She wanted to rip the necklace off her neck, for it was burning painfully, but Sansa couldn't seem to move her hands from where they rested in her lap. Her head began to lull before everything went black.
All she could think of was the boy in the flames.
Present.
Sansa slowly stood, taking in the trees and grass around her. This was nowhere near where they camped. There was no snow layering the grounds here. In fact, it was quite warm.
She was in the middle of a large field with long, sharp grass. The trees were thick and tall… clearly decades old, if not older.
Sansa unlaced her jacket and looked around, wondering where she could leave it. It was far too hot to carry the fur around with her. She hung it neatly on a thick branch of a nearby tree and began walking. Where? She had no idea. She didn't recognize these woods in the slightest.
The forest wasn't very big, but she wasn't sure what awaited her if she left the forest completely, so she stayed within the treeline and continued walking.
She heard her stomach growl for food, and she rubbed at it with a frown of displeasure. One second she was at their camp talking with Melisandre, and the next she was here all alone. What had that witch done to her?
Sansa's fingers moved to the gem around her neck and she grimaced when she saw the red burn mark where it had stuck to her skin earlier.
'When you want to come back… just take off the necklace'
Sansa was about to rip it from her neck with a frustrated grunt when she heard a voice.
She immediately crouched down to hide herself as she searched the trees to find the source of the voice.
She moved slowly behind a bush when she spotted him. It was a young man… probably around her age, with dark curly hair. He was cradling something small in his arms as he spoke gently to it.
Sansa narrowed her eyes to try and figure out what he was holding. It suddenly started chirping and she quickly realized it was a bird. She watched intently, finding something familiar about him. It was the way he moved… the way he presented himself, that struck a familiar cord in her. Does she know him?
He was dressed simply, brown worn out breeches that had a few rips and stains adorning them with a black shirt that laced at the front, loose sleeves rolled up to his elbows. What really caught her attention was the large white bandage that she could spot through the lacing of his shirt.
Just like where that young boy got sliced up the middle in the flames… was he the boy?
"Open up, come on. You have to eat." He urged the bird, using a finger to stroke down the side of it's brown feathers.
He was trying to feed the bird something that was smudged on the end of his finger. A berry maybe?
The bird was very small, it must still be new to the world. Eventually it's little beak opened and nibbled at the food being offered. The boy smiled brightly and Sansa couldn't help but smile, too. He had a lovely smile. It was one thing that didn't look familiar to Sansa. She had definitely never seen that smile before.
While admiring his charming smile, she lost balance and fell onto her behind with a huff, snapping twigs in the process.
"Who's there?" He called and she soon heard footsteps coming her way. Her eyes widened in panic but before she could do anything, like run, piercing green eyes were staring at her accusingly. "Who are you?"
His voice was softer once he set eyes on her. Sansa felt her heart pounding as he eyed her up and down. He smiled shyly, shifting the little bird in his arms so his right hand was free and he offered it to her.
"I'm sorry," he started quietly. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Sansa tilted her head in curiosity. Who is he?
Sansa accepted his help and allowed him to pull her up to her feet. She was taller than him by a few inches, but he didn't seem to mind. His hand reluctantly left hers and his attention shifted back to the bird.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" He said, addressing the bird in his hands. Sansa nodded in agreement, stepping closer to take a better look.
"She is. Is she hurt?" Sansa asked and the boy looked up at her again.
"She didn't fly as successfully as her siblings. She was on the ground struggling." He informed her. "She'll be okay."
He was sweet. That was Sansa's first impression of the boy. Gentle, compassionate, thoughtful.
"I was about to try to get her to fly again, if you want to watch?" He offered. What else was she going to do in the middle of nowhere?
She followed him out of the forest and they walked in silence across a long, never ending field of grass. It was clear it had recently rained because the long and unkempt grass was dampening the bottom of her dress. Sansa hiked it up further to try and avoid the material getting soaked.
They stopped in front of a steep cliff which dropped off to the sea down below… very far down below. So far in fact that Sansa took a few nervous steps backwards.
"Are you alright?" He asked with a concerned expression. Sansa nodded.
What was going on!?
"What if she still doesn't fly? She'll die by that drop." Sansa pointed out.
The boy looked down at the bird as he spoke to her. "Her flock is still close by. If she doesn't join them soon, she won't survive on her own. It's now or never. So she'll fly, or she'll die."
His words had a sense of darkness to them, as did his suddenly bleak expression. Another familiar cord struck within her. She knew him, she was sure of it. She knew that look.
He leaned down to whisper something secret to the bird before, without warning, throwing her up and away from his body.
The bird's wings stretched out in preparation to fly, but she faltered and fell a few feet before her wings caught her again. She was struggling, that was clear, but she did manage to fly. She heard the boy let out a relieved sigh as he watched her fly away.
"We're nowhere near Winterfell are we?" Sansa finally asked, needing to know where she was. She knew they weren't close to her home because of the lack of snow and the steep cliffs surrounded by endless water. It reminded her of the Vale more than anything.
The boy chuckled in amusement as he turned to her. "No, sweetling, you're east. The Fingers."
Sansa froze. Sweetling? Only one person ever called her that… and the Fingers?
She stared at him and suddenly she could see the resemblance:
His midnight black hair lacked the silver temples and in his youth, his hair was longer and curly. His face was more young, youthful. He was shorter now, not fully grown yet and he dressed drastically different; his clothes were dirty and worn as opposed to his ordinarily polished appearance. His eyes were a bright green, lacking the smokey-grey. His voice wasn't as deep yet, either, nor was his expression and personality as somber.
He tilted his head to the side in question and he stepped closer.
"My lady? Are you okay?" He paused, examining her. "You've gone pale."
So, the question wasn't where was she, but when?
Somewhere around twenty years earlier, seeing as she wasn't even born yet.
"What's your name?" She asked cautiously, knowing what his answer would be, but needing to hear it for herself.
He smiled almost bashfully then, as if he were a little embarrassed. "I apologize, my lady. My manners are rusty as I haven't really spoken to anyone in months." He licked his lips to moisten them, offering her his hand.
"I'm Petyr. Petyr Baelish."
Petyr Baelish.
Why would she send her to him?
Was he the boy she saw in the flames fighting so valiantly? The one she cried for?
Sansa, too distracted by her own thoughts, tripped over the rough terrain. His hand shot out to catch her, steady her, but she was sure to brush off his hand.
His eyes shot to the ground, looking embarrassed for a moment, until he continued walking again. He was bringing her to his house so she could have something to eat and drink. He was so polite when he was younger. So innocent and sweet. What changed?
"Here, would you like some?" He asked as he stopped to pick a few dark-coloured berries. He then offered her them. "They're very good, I promise."
She plucked one from his open hand and popped it in her mouth. She was admittedly very hungry… and it was also very good, like he had said. He gave her a proud smile upon seeing how she enjoyed his offering before picking her more as they walked.
This young man was nothing like the man she's come to know back home. The man who claims he loves her. The man who hurt her terribly. This young man in front of her seems incapable of causing her the harm that he inevitably does.
Soon they creased one last hill, which allowed Sansa to see the small village at the bottom. It was strange, really… that there was so much inhabited land in the Fingers, but everyone chose to live so tightly together in one small section of land.
They descended the hill, approaching the village. For the most part, the stone houses were all connected, but some had tiny alleys between. Sansa could tell immediately that it wasn't a wealthy village.
Thought that made sense, didn't it? She knew Petyr 'came from nothing', as he likes to tell everyone.
"Uhm, my lady… would you mind pulling your hood up?" Petyr asked as he turned to her. She frowned slightly in confusion, so he continued. "Believe me when I say that a beautiful young woman like you, doesn't want to attract the attention of the men here." He told her and she felt herself actually fighting back a blush at his compliment.
"Does that include you?" She was surprised to hear the words come from her mouth. She actually flirted with him. With Petyr Baelish. To be fair, he was attractive… and he was very sweet like this.
He flashed her a grin as he reached behind her for her hood, pulling it over her head. He was sure to tuck her auburn hair into it fully. "Yes." He replied as he pulled away and led her forwards.
The small cobblestone street was narrow and crowded with both people and clutter. When she looked up, clothing lines were hung across the street from one window to the other. An older lady emptied her chamber pot from her balcony, which would have splashed Sansa had Petyr not yanked her backwards.
It was dirty and poor . She was shocked that someone like Petyr Baelish could come from a place like this. He was the opposite of everything here. Then again, she thought, perhaps that was the point.
He pulled her through a tight alleyway, where they both needed to turn sideways nearer the end of it to fit through. Then he grabbed her hand and weaved her through the people who crowded around a small market. She didn't know how he could move so quickly in such small places… if it weren't for his hand guiding her, she'd be lost for good in this wave of people and buildings.
Soon they stopped in another alleyway, even smaller than the last. There was a ladder leading up to a small window and he began to climb it. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do at this point, but turning around seemed out of the question, so she began to climb as well. He slipped through the window easily, pushing the light green curtain aside to pull her up as well.
"Are you okay? I know it's a little…"
"I'm fine." She reassured him, dusting off her dress. He nodded curtly.
She looked around the small room, taking in every detail. There was a small bed with only a thin sheet folded neatly atop. The walls were bare stone, some large cracks spiderwebbed across the wall. He hung a Tully banner drape across the entirety of the wall behind her, which she stared at curiously. There were no knick knacks or pictures in his room. Only a few large piles of books that piled so high, they almost hit the ceiling.
"I know it's not much." He started hastily, ringing his fingers together nervously.
"It's lovely." She cut him off again. He nodded, biting his bottom lip.
"Well… I'll go see if I can get you something to eat. Can you just… stay here?" He asked cautiously and her brow creased in confusion. He flushed, a little embarrassed. "I'm a little afraid of what my father might do if he knew you were here."
His father?
"Alright." She said slowly and he gave her a small smile.
He turned to leave, opening his door and taking a step out before he turned back to her. "If you don't mind, my lady, I'd like to ask…" He whispered. "What's your name?"
Sansa contemplated this. Should she lie or tell him the truth? Would it change anything if she told him the truth? The Red Woman told her that when she chose to leave… it would be as if she never came here in the first place, so it couldn't matter then?
She cleared her throat. "Uh… it's Sansa."
He smiled widely. "Sansa." He repeated. "It's pretty." Then he left, and as he did… he left behind a funny tingle in the pit of her stomach.
She took off her hood, turning to look around the room more. She expected to see the books, it was no real surprise. However, when she picked up one of the leatherbacks and flipped it over, blowing the thin layer of dust from it before flipping it open… she was surprised to see the doodles on the inside. There were small drawn pictures all around and sometimes through the text. When she flipped to the next page she found notes as well. His handwriting is as beautiful now as it is when he's full grown.
She read some of the script before a loud noise downstairs scared her. She closed the book abruptly and placed it back down in it's spot. There was another thud. She crept towards the door and listened. As she did, she began to hear voices from downstairs. One was Petyr's and one was an older man's.
She couldn't distinguish what they were saying and soon she found herself stumbling backwards at the sound of someone running up the stairs. The door swung open and then quickly closed again. It was Petyr, and the side of his jaw was bright red.
"What happened?" She immediately asked as he set down a tray on his bed. It contained bread and cheese, which he'd obviously taken the time to cut for her.
"Nothing." He said sternly before gesturing to the tray. "I'm sorry it's not that interesting, but it's all we have."
She approached him cautiously and he leaned away from her as she did, watching her curiously. Her hand came up to cup the redness of his jaw and he flinched away.
Petyr's eyes drooped slightly, shoulders hunched as he gave in. "My father." Was all he said as an explanation.
"He hits you?" She asked for clarification and Petyr's jaw clenched.
"My mum died giving birth to me, so he blames me for what happened; says that I killed her." He paused and Sansa watched the sadness cloud his eyes. "He hates me."
Sansa bit down on her bottom lip as she listened. His confession made her sad. He was so open at this age… a huge contrast to the man she knows back home: her Petyr.
Sansa leaned forward, without knowing what came over her, and pecked his cheek quickly, chaste. His face shone with surprise when she pulled away, before he turned his head to the side to hide his smile. He was blushing, Sansa was pleased to discover. She'd made Petyr Baelish blush.
"Thank you for the food and water." She said as she sipped at the drink and began nibbling on the snacks he provided her with.
"Of course, my lady." He replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She copied his actions. "So, uh, where are you from?"
She looked up at him as she finished chewing. It wouldn't hurt to tell the truth, as long as the Red Woman's spell worked correctly…
"Winterfell." She told him before adding: "in the future."
He blinked. Frowned. "Sorry, what?"
"The future." She repeated. "Witches exist in this time, as I'm sure you know." He nodded. "Well, their magic gets a little more advanced in the later years."
Petyr breathed a disbelieving laugh. "And I'm supposed to believe you, why?"
She smiled easily. "I know you in the future."
He frowned again, confusion written across his face.
"And I know you have a scar from here," she touched the top of his chest and dragged her finger almost all the way down. "To here." She finished, taking another drink of water. "I know that you got it fighting for Catelyn Tully."
His eyes fell to the floor. "She's my mother." Almost as quickly as his eyes went downcast, they shot up just as quickly.
"I assume Brandon Stark is your father then." He said bitterly, jaw tightly clenched. Oh, maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.
"No, he ends up dying. His brother, Eddard, will marry Catelyn and they will have five children." She told him and Petyr narrowed his eyes on her.
"I don't understand… why are you here then?" He asked. "If you really travelled in time… why come here?"
Sansa chewed the inside of her cheek. This she didn't know the answer to. "I'm… I'm not sure, exactly. A priestess sent me back here, but I don't know why."
Petyr still looked a little on edge, as if he were considering to believe her or not. Suddenly he shifted closer and his eyes shone with pure curiosity. "You said we know each other later…" He started and she nodded. "What am I like?"
She hesitated. Selfish, manipulative, a liar.
"Rich." She settled on, knowing it would be something he'd like to hear. He grinned. "A Lord. Part of the King's council."
"Really?" He asked, looking excited and a little arrogant. She nodded.
"You worked your way up." She told him and his smile broadened.
"And us? How did we meet?" He asked then and she decided to settle on the good parts of their relationship, even though there weren't many.
"A tournament at King's Landing." She told him truthfully. "I reminded you of my mother."
He smiled sheepishly. "You do have her hair and her eyes, but-" He paused, looking almost bashful .
"Yes?" She probed.
"Well, uh… you see, when I first saw Cat I thought that she had to be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, but-" He swallowed thickly. "You're more beautiful than she ever was."
Sansa stared at him curiously, remembering what happened the last time he told her that exact same thing. "You've said that before." She admitted and his eyes lit with more curiosity. " My Petyr, I mean."
"It's true." He said quietly and she felt a smile surfacing. Why did she feel this way around him? He shifted closer again. "And, uhm, if you don't mind me asking… are we… close?" He asked, licking his lips to moisten them.
"We-" She paused. How in the hell was she supposed to answer this? "It's complicated." She thought of Ramsay then. How badly he had hurt her… how Petyr had oh so willingly handed her over to him. How he had left her there by herself.
His face fell, seemingly reading her reaction. He's clever now, too. "I hurt you?" She nodded. "What did I do?"
"I trusted you." She admitted. "I even sort of began to-" she closed her eyes, the pain of what he had done came rushing back. "You betrayed me, and it caused me a lot of pain."
Petyr looked sad, and perhaps even a little angry… at himself?
"I'm sorry." He whispered quietly. "I don't know why I would ever-" he shook his head.
"You're very different when you grow up." Sansa finally told him. He listened carefully as she spoke. "It's like you just decided to take revenge on those who've wronged you. And you let nothing stand in your way. You kill and lie and manipulate to get your way." Petyr looked slightly horrified at what she was saying. "Honestly, a lot of it is impressive. You're very good at what you do. You can play people so easily. You taught me to do the same for a time."
"Do you hate me?" He asked. "Him, I mean."
"Yes." She said immediately and the wave of disappointment that washed over him was curious to Sansa. Was he so taken by her already? "But, like I said, it's complicated."
He seemed to suddenly understand her unspoken confession. "You love him, too." He guessed and she looked down. "But you hate yourself for feeling that way."
Damn, why must he be so intuitive and observant?
"The man he gave me to, my husband, he destroyed me in more ways than one." She told him. "I don't know how I'm supposed to forgive him, even if I wanted to."
"I understand." He told her quietly and something suddenly snapped inside her.
"How!?" She accused. "How could you possibly understand what it feels like!?"
He raised his hands to show his surrender and she immediately forced herself to calm down. This young man was not the man who gave her away… not yet, anyways.
"I know what it's like to have someone you love betray you so terribly. Maybe not as bad as what you went through, but I do know the heartbreak." He paused, lowering his hands. His voice was even quieter now, as if he didn't want to admit this next part to her. "And as for being raped-" Sansa flinched at the word. How dare he use that word when addressing her. She flared with anger.
Then,
"I'm sure yours was worse, I'm not trying to compare situations…" he quickly told her and she paused to listen intently. Where was he going with this? "But I… I also know what that feels like, too."
What?
"You… what?" Was all she could think to say.
"I've actually never told anyone about it before." He confessed. "It wasn't long ago, a few months I guess." Wait… what!?
"It was right after the duel. It must have been mere days after, but time blended together because I was in and out of consciousness." He said slowly. "I couldn't even sit up and my torso was freshly sewn together. She slipped into my room. I thought it was Cat." His face was pale as he retold the story.
"She climbed on my bed. Told me she had changed her mind. That she loves me and wants to run away together." He swallowed thickly, looking a little embarrassed about the next part. "She started kissing me. I was in so much pain and could hardly move but I let her do as she wished because I was so happy." His eyes closed and when he opened them again, they were swimming with pain.
"She undressed me and -well, anyways- part way through I realized it wasn't the woman I loved, but her sister pretending to be. I told her to stop and I tried to push her off but I was too weak. Eventually my stitches started to tear and then I was bleeding again. She still didn't stop."
Sansa had to consciously close her mouth, as it was hanging open in disbelief. "Lysa?" She said more to herself than him.
"Oh, yeah I guess she'd be your aunt." He realized, scratching awkwardly behind his ear.
"I had no idea." She said quietly. He shrugged with one shoulder. "I'm sorry that happened to you." He nodded.
"And I'm sorry for my part in what happened to you." And she could tell he was genuine.
She nodded.
"I know that's an impossible thing to forgive, Sansa… but I hope you can find a way." Petyr told her. "I couldn't possibly know what's important to him, but if just this past hour alone is any sign… I know for a fact that you're special to him. That you're a main priority, if not the main priority."
"He cares about the Iron Throne. He cares about moving up in the world." She countered and Petyr smiled loosely, sadly.
"He certainly feels something for you, sweetling, because I can feel it already." He confessed and Sansa raised her eyebrows in surprise. Could he truly love her? Could Ramsay have actually been a mistake? Did he tell the truth back in Molestown?
"It's getting late, would you like me to take you somewhere?" He asked her and she hesitated.
"I-I don't have anywhere to go." She admitted, still shocked by the aftermath of confession.
"You could stay with me if you'd like? But I only have this room to share." He offered and she looked around. One small bed. Would he be a gentleman and sleep on the floor. Her Petyr wouldn't.
"I know it isn't proper. Especially seeing as you're a lady, but-"
"Okay. Thank you."
She could leave, if she wanted to. She should leave, but she was too intrigued by him to go just yet.
"I'll see if I can find another pillow."
He left the room for a moment before returning with a pillow in hand. He placed it on the floor beside his bed and then turned to her.
"You can have the bed, though I'm sure you're used to something far more comfortable to sleep on." He offered and she smiled.
"Thank you." She said and he nodded, moving over to the small box of clothes by the door.
"I washed these this morning, if you'd like to change?" He offered but she shook her head.
"I can sleep in my shift." She said and he nodded respectfully. She knew how he desired her, for her Petyr desires her the same way, so she didn't want to give him more of a reason to try something. Not that she thought he'd ever touch her without her consent. More that she feared she would consent.
He left the room to change into more comfortable clothes before returning and laying on the floor beside the bed she was sitting on. "You could sit up here until we're ready to sleep." She said and he smiled, moving to sit beside her on the bed, both their backs leaning against the wall.
"How long can you stay?" He asked, some reluctance found in his voice. He didn't want her to leave.
She wondered for a brief second what it'd be like if she stayed. She could change him. Change the future. Save her father and the rest of her family from their enemies. She could keep Petyr the man he is now, and not let him drift into the depths of revenge. Not allow the darkness to swallow and consume him.
It occurred to her that her Petyr has lived his whole life trying to be more important and rich only to avoid the rejection he faced when he was a boy. He didn't do it because he wanted to… he did it because he feels he needs power and gold to be loved. It was sad.
"I'm not sure." She fingered the gem strung around her neck. "The woman who sent me here… she told me to take off the necklace if I wanted to return. On second thought, I shouldn't stay much longer."
He looked down at her chest where the gem lay. "Oh." He paused. "But why not? Can't you stay as long as you wished?"
Sansa nodded numbly, catching the hope in his eyes. She looked down sadly. "I can't stay longer than a few hours."
His face dropped a little. "But-"
"We're going into battle tomorrow night. I have to be there for that. And I have to be back in time to ride to my Petyr. I need his help to win."
"I have an army?" He asked, surprised and excited.
"Yes." Sansa confirmed, watching as he looked straight ahead, smirking a little. It shows even now: How much he cares about power and money.
"You know, Petyr… other things matter too." She blurted out and he frowned in confusion. "You will need more than money and power to be happy." She added and he looked down at his hands, which were fiddling together in his lap.
He stayed quiet, not knowing exactly what to say to her. Sansa knew she was taking out her frustration from her Petyr on this Petyr beside her, but she couldn't stop herself.
"You really think you're going to be happy when your climb is over? Once you're King?" She asked, making him bite his lip awkwardly. "I can assure you that you didn’t make your way to the top by honourable means -if you even make it to the top. You'll have no friends. No one that loves you. Will it really be worth it? Will you really be happy with no one to share it with?" She swallowed thickly, pretending her mind wasn't wandering to a picture of Petyr as King and herself as his Queen. "Completely alone."
"I'm alone?" He asked for clarification. "In your reality?... I don't have anyone?"
Sansa looked down, suddenly feeling bad for attaching him so much: an innocent person. She didn't answer, not quite knowing how.
"That's sad." He added, voice quiet and thoughtful. "Not even you?"
Sansa swallowed thickly, biting her bottom lip hard. Did he have her? No. He certainly did not. Not as a friend and definitely not as anything more. He did have her at one point. She thought of him as a mentor, a friend… she even had feelings for him for a short time. Well, a long time. But he ruined that: destroyed it.
What if he truly didn't know about Ramsay?
Could it have possibly been an honest mistake? One that he regrets terribly.
Could he have actually told the truth?
"He did for a time. Not anymore." She settled on, watching as his expression turned sad.
"I hope he can get you back; make up for what he did to you. I hope you can find a way to forgive him… because I couldn't imagine knowing you exist in the world, but being without you because of a mistake." He confessed, hope blooming in his oh so green eyes.
Sansa was beginning to think he was a little confused as to what her Petyr was to her. The line seemed to be blurred to him. "We were never together romantically, you know. He was a friend. My only friend for a long time." She clarified.
He nodded. "But he loves you?"
She sighed long and slow through her parted lips. "Yes. I believe that in his own horrible way… he does truly love me."
Petyr went quiet, brow creasing slightly in what looked to be pain: hurt. He swallowed hard, as if the task was difficult for him. "You really don't think much of me -him- do you?" She blinked, considering his question. "Am I really that awful of a person? You speak as if I grow to be a monster."
Monster was a harsh name to call the Petyr she grew to know back in her time; Ramsay was a monster, as was his father, and so was Joffrey. But Petyr wasn't a monster. No, he was cunning and manipulative, for certain, but he didn't beat or rape. He played games with people's minds, but never their bodies the way that her husband liked to. Petyr didn't mind killing to get his own way, which in ways made him a terrible person… but it wasn't like she cared much for Lysa anyways.
Some of Petyr's lies and games have affected the lives of her loved ones, like her father, but in fairness… Petyr was trying to get Ned sent to the wall, not the morgue. And then of course, his gamble on Ramsay had affected her specifically, which was a hard one to forgive.
"He isn't - you aren't- a monster. I've met monsters… married them. He isn't that." She assured the young man, watching as relief washed over his features. "He just… makes decisions that he knows will hurt others in order to further his own gain. He doesn't care how it hurts them."
"Does he not care how his decision hurt you?"
Damn him and his observation skills at even this age. She replied honestly, thinking back to the look of sick remorse he showed her in Molestown; he was white as a ghost when she told him what his mistake had cost her.
"I think he does." She admitted. "I think… I'm the first person he felt regret over hurting. And I think that's a big deal for someone like him. It shows his human side, if even just a little."
Speaking about his human side made Sansa think about the other parts of him -the non Littlefinger parts of him- that she used to really quite adore.
As if reading her mind (like her Petyr seemed to do often), he asked: "Is that all he is? Cold and cunning?"
Sansa reluctantly shook her head, not really wanting to venture too deep into the parts of Petyr that she truly liked. Her heart warmed whenever she did, and she didn't need that distraction when she was supposed to be angry with him.
"No." She confessed simply. "Sometimes he was funny… warm… sweet, even. We went to the Vale together a while ago and he shipped over crates of lemons so that I could have my favourite dessert." She didn't realize she was smiling until the boy in front of her began to mirror the gesture. She abruptly let her mouth fall back into a straight line. "It's strange to meet you. Meet him at this age, because now I can identify the parts of my Petyr that turned hard and cold over the years… and the parts of him that remained… the parts that are you. "
"At least now I know that this sweet boy in front of me is still inside of him somewhere. I suppose it would have been easier to blame and hate him if I met you and you were just as cold and manipulative… but you aren't, which means he has some softness in him still." She added as almost an afterthought.
She was staring off in the distance, which made her surprise even worse when his lips suddenly pressed against hers.
She gasped and yanked her head back to stare into his wide, embarrassed eyes.
"I-I'm sorry!" He immediately stammered. "I just… you're so beautiful and you were saying such nice things and… I'm sorry."
She closed her mouth and swallowed down her shock. She was angry at first, thinking that perhaps he was trying to take advantage of the fact that she wasn't wearing much and was currently seated on his bed. Angry that he just took what he wanted… but then she saw the embarrassment cloud his eyes and watched as he shrank back against the wall to give her as much space as possible.
"I don't know why I-" he sighed heavily, not meeting her eyes.
"You should have asked." She said sternly and he looked up at her finally, nodding in agreement.
"It won't happen again. I promise."
She could see the hurt there.
Rejection.
It stung deep for Petyr. It was the reason he was set on the path of revenge. It was the reason he looked so defeated now. His whole life was circled around that word, that feeling; the feeling her own mother scorned him with. He held it with him everywhere he went. In some scenarios it was a motivation… in others it was a reminder. When it came to Sansa, though… she began to realize that it only meant pain. Because he loved her. Truly.
She placed her hand on his, his skin pale and his fingers long. His nails were short, unlike those that her Petyr sported, and they held dirt underneath them. His eyes were wide and confused as he watched her.
Slowly, as they suffered through an awkward pause, he flipped his hand over to press their palms together and his fingers separated hers, entwining them together.
Now he looked hopeful again. Happy. Light. Petyr.
Funny Petyr.
Warm Petyr.
Sweet Petyr.
"It was light-headed of me to think that someone like you might ever want to be kissed by someone like me." He told her, shrugging.
She puckered her lips in thought. Was he trying to manipulate her to get what he wants? No, this isn't the Petyr she knows. He isn't advanced in the art of lying and singing songs like her Petyr back home is.
"That's not true." She told him, catching his viridescent eyes. "My Petyr and I have kissed a couple times, actually."
His eyebrows rose up on his forehead in surprise. He seemed to be a little amused, the rejection fading slowly from his expression.
"I'm starting to get jealous of this other me." He teased lightly, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. She breathed a laugh, shaking her head slightly to hide the heating of her cheeks. "Do you like me better when I'm older, or something, my lady?"
She shook her head immediately. "I like you better like this. Less hard around the edges and far less dark." She paused. "I used to look for you in my Petyr all the time, because you were really the only part that I liked."
Was that entirely truthful?
She did enjoy playing some of his games. His cleverness was intriguing and the way he could spin people into exactly what he wanted and make them do exactly what he needed… was attractive in it's own way. She didn't care much for honour… She just wished he didn't hurt so many people along the way.
She kept that part to herself for the time being, because he was grinning happily now as his thumb stroked over the back of her hand gently.
"So it's just older men in general that you like the look of then? I'm not old enough looking for you?" He guessed in jest, smirking as she laughed out loud.
Did she like older men?
She certainly liked how Petyr looked with his facial hair and silver temples.
Young Petyr laughed along with her, squeezing her hand and pulling her closer little by little. Soon they stopped laughing and all that was left was a small space between them, his other hand moving to rest on her waist. His expression was deadly serious as he watched and waited to see what she'd do next.
She bit down briefly on her bottom lip as her eyes flickered down to his parted lips. He instinctively licked them, which made her stomach flutter nervously in response.
Did she want to kiss him?
It would be her secret if she did. No one would know.
She wanted to…
She inched closer, only slightly.
"Sansa?" He breathed, voice barely above a whisper. She hummed in reply. "Could I kiss you?"
He was looking desperately between her lips and her eyes, looking almost lost.
She nodded twice and immediately his lips found hers. It was a gentle press, sweet, but it held a promise of passion soon to come.
They had never kissed more than once in a row. Never more than a peck, but Petyr's lips began moving slowly against hers: hesitant but greedy at the same time.
One of his hands remained holding hers, while the other wove it's way through her hair to the back of her neck and held her there against him. She had never been kissed in such a way before and it was thrilling to her.
His teeth grazed her bottom lip and she felt herself smile against him, finding that she enjoyed his playfulness. She kept up as well as she could, which wasn't all that difficult seeing as Petyr's kisses didn't feel like her Petyr's kisses: not as precise. They were more sloppy, clearly less experienced. But still nice. It wasn't like she could really compare.
Soon she felt his tongue poke at her lips and so she parted them, letting him swipe his tongue against hers. The touch of their tongues felt a little magical to Sansa. Her stomach was fluttering madly and her heart was pounding painfully against her ribcage.
He started urging her onto her back and, surprising herself, she let him. He didn't climb on top of her like she'd expect. He laid down beside her on his side so he was still above her, but not on top of her. She let him continue to kiss her, his hands running up and down her waist, never straying too far.
It was when he shifted on top of her that she started to see reason, and pushed him away. "I- was that not good?"
"No, no, it was! I'm just not ready yet to do anything else after what happened… and besides, I shouldn't be spending so much time here when there's a battle I should be preparing for." She explained as she sat back up and adjusted her hair and dress.
"Oh, alright." He looked sad now. "I wish you could stay longer."
She smiled, answering without even thinking it through first. "So do I." Did she? Did she truly enjoy his company so much?
He smiled back at her, and she realized how unfamiliar it looked. Petyr never smiled; her Petyr, anyway. She wondered if his smile was as bright as the one in front of her currently was. Something inside of her craved to know the answer to that question.
"I really should get going, though." She told him, knowing what she had to do once she was back in her time. She needed Petyr's help. They would die without it. And he would help her if she rode to him and asked, wouldn't he?
Sansa found that answer when she looked into the eyes of the boy sitting across from her. He loved her already.
Is this why the Red Woman sent her here? To meet Petyr as a boy, to see the good in him, so she would go retrieve his help in her time? Or was it for other purposes?
"It was really nice to meet you, Sansa. Will I… When you leave, will I remember you?" He asked as they both stood up from the bed.
She twisted her mouth, feeling guilty. "No, I'm afraid not."
"Oh." He looked down, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Clearly he wasn't happy to know that.
Sansa looked down at her hands, fiddling with one of the rings she wore. It was a silver band with beautiful designs engraved into it. It was something she found in her old room when she was Ramsay's wife. It was from her childhood. She pulled it off of her finger and reached for his hand.
She wasn't sure if it would even stay after she left, or if it would disappear and seize to exist in his time. She wasn't sure, but sue wanted to leave him with something.
She slipped it onto his pinky, as it wouldn't fit his ring finger like it had on her own hand. "What's this?" He asked, holding both her hands with him.
"Something to remember me by, even though you won't actually remember me. Hopefully you can remember something. A feeling, maybe." She told him, feeling silly for acting so sentimental.
But instead and hugged her close. "Thank you, Sansa. I'll wear it everyday."
You won't even remember that you said that in a minute, she thought.
She smiled as he pulled away. "It's time to go." She said, reaching behind her to undo the clasp of the necklace. She held it in the palm of her hand.
"Sansa," he whispered, placing a hand on either side of her face. "I hope he can earn your forgiveness, because knowing I lose you in the end… it kills me."
Sansa wondered how many of these emotions were relevant in her Petyr.
She let him kiss her one more time before she let the necklace fall from between her fingers and thud against the ground. After a moment nothing happened, so she took the opportunity to kiss Petyr back, her hands threading through his hair before she felt herself start to fade… the feeling of his lips disappearing.
Soon she opened her eyes and there she was, back in the smoky tent of the Red Woman, the necklace at her feet and one less ring on her hand.
And her heart, heavy.
She missed him.
"So? What happened?" Melisandre asked as she scooped down to retrieve the necklace.
"It worked." Was all Sansa said. "I Have to go."
She left before anything else could be said. She found a horse quickly after that, and thankfully because it was late, no one was near the horses. She found one still saddled and pulled herself up. It wasn't far to Moat Cailin from their camp, but she rode at full speed anyways, knowing she didn't have time to spare.
She thought the whole way there, wondering what she was going to say. Hello Petyr, I know I told you I don't need or want your help, but it turns out I was wrong. That will go over well. Would he laugh at her?
Would he even still be there?
That thought made her stomach flip. Why would he still be there? She cast him aside. She told him she never wanted to see him again.
Though when she arrived, she saw the Vale flags and sighed in relief. Surely he would help her. If he stayed, then he would help her.
"Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell. I need to speak with the lord protector of the Vale. I need to speak with Petyr Baelish." She announced to the first group of men she saw.
Sansa wondered if they were under orders to let her through immediately, because they didn't ask another question, nor did they draw their weapons. They took her immediately to see Petyr.
"Wait here. The Lord Protector will be with you shortly." One of his men ordered before leaving her alone in a rather nice looking tent. It had a bed, a trunk and a desk covered with all sorts of maps and scrolls. She wondered if this was where he had been sleeping.
She didn't have much time to look around before she sensed someone watching her and swiftly spun around. He was standing there with his hands clasped in front of him and an unreadable expression.
"Sansa." He mouthed, tongue caressing each letter of her name. "I feared I would never see you again. What brings you here now?"
She swallowed thickly and stepped closer so they were at a normal conversational distance. It was strange to see and hear him now that she knows him when he was younger.
"I need your help." She admitted, waiting for the amusement or smugness to cross his expression, but it never did. "Jon is going to attack Ramsay at dawn but he doesn't have enough men. He'll never win, but he won't listen to me."
He stayed quiet as she spoke, almost too quiet. "I… I know what I said back in Molestown, Petyr, but… I really need your help. Jon will die and I-" She felt her emotions getting the better of her so she stopped for a moment to collect herself again. "I won't be his wife again. I won't go back with him alive."
He seemed to understand, for his eyes darkened and he pursed his lips together in thought. She hesitated. "So… will you? Help me?"
His eyes met her again, almost sharply. "I meant what I said, Sansa. Whatever you want that is in my power, I will do." She sighed in relief, thankful for him now more than ever. "We should leave now if we want to make it there in time before your brother's army is completely demolished."
He turned his back on her and lifted the fabric of the tent aside so he could call out to someone. He spoke to them for a moment before coming back inside. "They're preparing their horses." He told her as he stepped closer.
"How have you been since we last spoke?" He asked, his eyes surprisingly warm.
"I'll be better when he's dead." She stated, not wanting to talk about Ramsay now. "Did you wait here for me?"
"Of course I did." He replied simply, his eyes drilling holes into her own.
"You knew I would need help?"
"Not necessarily. But I didn't want to be miles away if you did." He admitted, moving towards his desk and picking up the Valyrian steel dagger that was laying a top of a pile of unsent letters. As he did, she noticed his hand… more specifically the silver ring on his pinky finger.
"That ring!" She pointed out, catching him off guard. She looked up at him sheepishly. "Where did you get it?"
He frowned slightly in confusion. "I'm not sure… I've had it ever since I could remember." He sheathed the dagger and then turned to her properly. "Why? Do you recognize it?"
She swallowed thickly. Should she tell him? What was the harm really?
"I asked Melisandre for help."
He tilted his head to the side, urging her to continue. "She sent me back in time. I don't know why, really, she sent me to you , but-"
"To me?" He asked, confused now.
"Yes. I met you when you were a boy. We spent about an hour together in The Fingers. It was a few moons after your duel with my uncle." She confessed. He listened carefully, not quite sure what to say. "I gave him that. Gave you that."
She pointed to the ring again and he looked down at it. "Why don't I remember?" He asked curiously.
"Melisandre made it a part of her spell, for anyone I meet there to forget so I don't change the future." She explained.
"That makes sense, I suppose." He nodded. "But why are you telling me this?"
"Well I… I wasn't going to come to you tonight. But after talking with him, you , I realized some things about you. And I knew afterwards that I needed your help if I wanted to live to see tomorrow." She told him.
"What do you mean you realized things about me?" He asked, looking apprehensive.
"You're not all cold and dark. That boy still lives within you. That boy is sweet and funny and kind and…" She licked her lips, finding courage. "And he loves me."
Petyr blinked in surprise. "I was very different back then, as I'm sure you realized. But yes, Sansa, I'm not just a monster. And I do love you."
"My Lord! The men have started riding out!" A knight called through the small doorway in the tent. Petyr nodded curtly.
"Well, sweetling, it's time to go save Winterfell. We can talk after." He told her, leading her towards the exit of the tent.
"Petyr, wait." She called, grabbing his hand and spinning him around to face her. She leaned forwards and kissed his cheek softly, feeling his rough stubble beneath her lips. "Thank you for staying."
His eyes searched her out as she pulled away and he had an odd expression on his face. He continued to stare at her as his fingers moved up to touch the spot she'd just pressed her lips. He frowned slightly and then moved his fingers to his own lips.
"Did you kiss him?" He asked unexpectantly. Then he added: "I can feel it."
Her eyes widened in surprise and she felt her cheeks heat. His expression shifted, his eyes narrowing and lips twitching. He extended his hand towards her.
"Come, my love, we have a battle to win."