Sorry it has been a few days! I have officially now finished a massive writing project I have been working on for quite some time, and I got hyper focused on it as I approached the finish line.

Oh, and you'll notice that I have played around with the show timeline a bit. Artistic licence to make my own story fit. Forgive me!

By the end of the third day, Sansa was heartily sick of being in the saddle.

She had woken up hours before with Petyr's arms still wrapped tightly around her. She had lain there for a few minutes, trying to decide if it was best to wake him, or to try and wriggle out from his grasp to wash and get dressed. Petyr had made the decision for her, giving her another lingering kiss on her forehand before pulling away and leaving her to get ready for the final leg of their journey.

Today, the conversation as they rode had turned to their families. Well, Sansa's family at least. She had not learnt anything from Lord Baelish that she did not already know; that he was the sole heir of a historically non-descript, but very wealthy family from the Fingers. He had been married to her Aunt before her untimely death, and that he had chosen to rule over the Vale as Lord Protector from King's Landing, rather than deciding to stay and watch over Sansa's young cousin that she had never met.

Instead, Petyr had seemed to want to get the lay of the land with Sansa's remaining siblings.

"Your half-brother Jon is now Lord Commander of the Nights Watch. He is doing well for himself at the wall." He made the statement by way of a test, to see if she was privy to any information about her family that he had not already picked up.

"He is?" This was news to Sansa. She had not heard from Jon since a brief letter from him the year before when he had arrived at the wall.

"Quite recently I believe."

"I will be sure to write to him and congratulate him of his new position."

"Have you heard anything from your sister?"

"Aria?" Petyr could tell from the change in Sansa's voice when talk moved from her brother to her sister that she had not heard from the girl since she left King's Landing.

"I don't know if she is even alive."

Petyr did not know what it was like to have siblings. His parents were dead, and he was the only family that he had, unless you were going to count his step-son, which Petyr did not.

"Do you want me to try and find her?" He certainly had not intended to offer up his services when he had introduced the topic of family, but the sadness in his wives voice made him want to try and do something to give her comfort.

"I don't want you to waste your time, Lord Baelish. As I said, I have no idea if she is even still alive."

The house they arrived at was nowhere like Sansa had visited before. While she had grown up at Winterfell, and stayed in the Red Keep which were both dwellings fortified for siege, the country house their little entourage was riding towards was open, and aesthetically pleasing, built as a peace time home rather than somewhere that needed to be defended against invaders. Aside from a few out houses and stables, there were no other buildings for miles, save a small village of about twenty houses. The house was built in the clearing of a vast forest, and someone had seemed to have taken great care with the gardens that surrounded the golden bricks.

Sansa stopped her horse at the top of the driveway. Noticing her pull on the reins, Petyr drew up beside her.

"Where are we?" Petyr smiled smugly at the touch of wonder in her voice.

"Welcome to your new home."

"My new home?"

"You did not think I spent my time up in that cold and windy castle up at the Fingers, did you?"

Petyr Baelish kept a beautiful country home. A beautiful country home that Sansa was sure no one else, certainly at King's Landing knew about.

Petyr pulled his horse around and started up the drive. Sansa followed.

"How long will we be staying here?"

"I think we can allow ourselves a few weeks before we need to show our faces to the world again."

It did not escape Sansa's notice that once they reached the courtyard of Petyr's house he jumped down from his horse so that he could be the one to help her our of her saddle, rather than his page boy who had leaped in the action the moment they appeared. Petyr took her hand in his, and did not let go of it as he led her into the house, introducing his new wife to his cook and his housekeeper, instructing the latter to find Sansa a girl from the village to help her with her hair and to dress in the mornings.

Sansa allowed herself to be led around the house in a daze. Out of all the places she had expected to be taken from the moment she found out they were not in fact headed to the Vale, a beautiful, secluded country home which her new husband had somehow managed to keep secret from everyone was not one of them. Her husband was a politician, he thrived on royal courts and holdings that could be defended. The light, airy house, no, home, Sansa was now walking through was a complete contradiction of everything she thought she had known about the man.

After he walked her around the gardens, shown Sansa where to find the kitchens, and told her to feel free to explore his vast library, Petyr led her down a long, darker oak passageway on the opposite wing of the house to the more public rooms.

"Not many of the servants come down this way." Petyr still did not let go of her hand.

"My personal study, my solar and my bedchamber are down here." He pointed to a door to the left of the gallery. "If you can't find me anywhere else in the house, if you need me for anything, just come and find me." Sansa nodded. She still had spoken a word since they set foot in the house.

Petyr continued to pull her down the hallway towards the only other door off the narrow gallery

"I thought you would like your own rooms."

He pushed the door open and Sansa stepped inside. He had given her her own small solar overlooking the rose garden. She followed him through a low door into a separate dressing room where her travelling trunk had already been set down across the room from a tall, full length looking glass, and again into a large bed chamber, bigger than anything she had been used to.

Petyr finally let go of her hand, stepping back slightly, giving Sansa the space to take in her new surroundings.

When they had set off from King's Landing a few days before, Petyr had fully intended on delivering Sansa to the Vale, as he had been bid. But something had changed on that first night away from the Red Keep, away from the Lannisters, when he had seen her reaction to his scar, and the next day he had decided to chance direction. True, he had told Sansa the day before that they were not headed to the Vale, but at the time he had told her that to scare her, to see what reaction he would get.

Peytr had decided that Sansa, his wife, was someone he should take a risk on, so he had decided to share with her a true part of himself. He had been alone so long, he needed to take a chance on someone. Sansa was bound to him for life, so if he could not learn to trust her, even a little bit, there was probably no hope for him.

He felt his heart swell just a little when Sansa turned away from her room with a small smile playing on her lips. He could tell she was trying not to look too pleased, but the light that was now dancing in her eyes gave her away. She took a step towards him. Petyr turned his head, just slightly, catching something else flashing fleetingly across her face.

Sansa kissed him tentatively at first, but Petyr monopolised on the fact she was the one to make the first move by kissing her again, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her flush to him, guiding his other hand into her hair, holding her head in place as he backed her into the wall behind them. His kisses were firm, and the moment he felt Sansa's arms rest themselves on his shoulders, anchoring her to him he added more pressure, running his tongue across her lips seeking entry.

While Sansa had taken him by surprise, Petyr did his best to stay in control.

Breaking their kiss, he turned her around, placing her hands flat on the wall just above her head. When she tried to move them, he grabbed her wrists and held them there until he was sure she would keep them there. It was a risk, playing the dominant with a girl who was slightly afraid of sex, but he could tell from the way she had been kissing him, and from how Sansa had moaned into his mouth for the first time when he had pressed his hardness between her legs through their clothes that for now, her curiosity and need to feel the things he had awoken in her were outweighing her fears.

He kissed her neck, tracing his tongue lazily along the bottom of her ear lobe, alternating between soft, barely there kisses and wet circles. He blew slightly below her ear, and Sansa squirmed against him. While his mouth was busy teasing Sansa's neck, his hands had their first chance to explore her slender body through her riding dress. With one hand he found her right breast, squeezing and kneading with just a little pressure, while his other ran over her curves, ghosting the shape of her body. Every time she went to move her hands from the wall of her bed chamber, he placed them back. His right hand moved across to her other breast, and she sighed into his touch, so he bit down on her neck ever so gently. This time she moaned again, and Petyr dipped his free hand down so that it was pressing between her legs, applying pressure and rubbing up and down against her ever so slightly.

And then, Petyr stepped back. Leaving Sansa panting against the wall, he bid Sansa a quiet goodnight, and left the room.

Sansa leaned against the wall for another moment, before finding her way down to the floor, leaning back to catch her breath. In all honestly she was not entirely sure what had just happened. She had felt the urge to kiss him, gently, to show that she appreciated what he had given her, but Petyr had taken over. She had expected him to kiss her back, what with all of the suggestive comments he had been making over the last few days, and the way his fingers lingered against her almost bare back every night as he helped her out of her gown.

But there was no way Sansa could have imagined that. Nothing Sansa had ever been told or had overheard could have prepared her for that.

Sansa was not sure how she felt about how Petyr had left her. Part of her was relieved that that was as far as things had gone, but another, growing part of her had wanted him to carry on touching her. Still embarrassed to admit it to herself, there was a moment where Petyr had pressed his hand between her legs where she wished that there had not been layers of heavy fabric between them, and that he had been able to push his hand even further.

"Sansa?" Petyr's eyes were bleary with sleep, but he could not imagine who else would be slipping into his bed in the middle of the night.

"It felt strange sleeping without you." Sansa spoke quietly, embarrassed by her admission. She shuffled closer towards Petyr under the sheets, but stopped just short of their touching. Making the split second decision that it was probably best if they both just went back to sleep, he reached out and pulled his wife towards him so that Sansa's head was resting on his shoulder. It was less intimate than how they had lain the night before, and far less intimate than the mere whisper of pleasure that they had shared just hours before, but that could wait until morning.

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