Shields
Title: Shields
Author: PrettySiren/prettysirenx
Rating: PG-13
Genre(s): drabble, angst, fluff, romance
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: ASoIaF characters belong to GRRM.
Warnings: None.
Notes: This is just a little drabble/stand-alone thing that came to mind. It has nothing to do with "Heirs". (I'm still working on the next part of that one.)
Sansa had only been asleep two hours when she awoke. There were no roosters at the Eyrie, nor did Gretchel or Maddy fling back the curtains. Rather, it was her internal clock that caused her to immediately rise from her sound slumber. She knew what was happening: Lord Petyr was about to leave.
He has to, she told herself firmly. After all, he was Lord Protector. But he’s my protector.
She pulled one of Lady Lysa’s robes over her nightgown. She didn’t bother to dress; she didn’t need to.
Petyr was alone in the solar. He sat in front of the fire, sipping mulled mead and reading a letter. The ravens never stopped leaving the Eyrie.
“You’ll need to break your fast on more than that if you’re going to travel down the mountain,” Sansa told him, walking into the room.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Are you concerned I won’t have the strength to make it down the trail? Or is it that I will be so deep in my cups that I’ll stumble off a perilous ledge?”
Sansa frowned. “I beg pardon, my lord. It was kindly meant.” She turned on her heel to leave, but he gently caught her wrist and pulled her into the seat beside him.
“Be sure, I am not making fun of you. Your concern is sweet, if not surprising. And I already ate, so you mustn’t worry yourself, Alayne.”
“Of course I’m concerned. You’re Lord Protector.” You’re my protector.
“Is that all?”
“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted; she tried to hide the desperation in her voice. “You only just got back; I don’t want you to go again.”
“I have to, sweetling,” he was no longer smiling mirthfully. “We have our parts to play. You are playing yours well; it would be wrong of me to spoil it all and not do my bit. Don’t you agree?”
Sansa wasn’t convinced; there was nothing she could say, and she hated that.
“Why are you awake anyway?” he asked. “My sweet girl should be asleep in her bed; she shouldn’t rise before the sun. The sun should rise in anticipation of her.”
Sansa flushed at the compliment and looked down, unable to bear his gaze which straddled the line of amusement and concern.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she confessed. “Sweetrobin has taken to crawling into my bed at night. He tremors and will only sleep if he buries his face between my breasts. I lie awake, afraid he might try to suckle while I’m asleep,” she added quickly; her face grew even redder.
She saw Petyr’s eye fall to her breasts. Her robe hung open and her shift clung to her skin, leaving little to be imagined. His eyes briefly widened before he cast them down at his nearly-gone mead. He sat down the cup and grew serious.
“Tell Brune to bolt the boy in his chambers at night,” he said. “My lady should always feel safe in her bed.”
How can I feel safe without you?
“I will,” she told him.
He touched her cheek. His thumb found its way to her lip; he brushed it so gently, she almost sighed. “I wish I could take you with me.”
This was a rare admission. He might kiss her cheek and hug her neck, or even make a bawdy pass when he was feeling cheeky, but he always had one shield or another between them just to keep her distant enough.
“I wish it too,” she found herself replying. Gods. She inhaled sharply as she realized what she said. He studied her for a moment, a moment too long.
“We must part now, you and me” he told her, seriously. “Though, I might see Alayne before I make my descent, when she is dressed and proper.”
For once, Sansa did not mind being improper. He let his shield down. That was enough, this morning.
He put on a brave smile and drew up the mask of Littlefinger once more. “I’m going to do a lot of things today, sweetling. May I have kiss for luck?”
Normally, she would’ve found some way out of it, but she found she didn’t really want to. She just wanted to make him stay, though it was impossible. He’s doing this for both of us, she told herself. So, she would give him what he wanted this morning. His hand fell from her cheek; she missed it; she leaned forward, but the sound of footsteps approaching stopped her from doing what she was about to. Instead, she placed her lips on his warm, clean cheek. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hide from the kitchen maid just how long her lips lingered on his skin.
She pulled away.
“I wish you a safe journey, Father.”
She rushed out of the room before neither he nor the maid could see the frustration etched on her face.
Author: PrettySiren/prettysirenx
Rating: PG-13
Genre(s): drabble, angst, fluff, romance
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: ASoIaF characters belong to GRRM.
Warnings: None.
Notes: This is just a little drabble/stand-alone thing that came to mind. It has nothing to do with "Heirs". (I'm still working on the next part of that one.)
Sansa had only been asleep two hours when she awoke. There were no roosters at the Eyrie, nor did Gretchel or Maddy fling back the curtains. Rather, it was her internal clock that caused her to immediately rise from her sound slumber. She knew what was happening: Lord Petyr was about to leave.
He has to, she told herself firmly. After all, he was Lord Protector. But he’s my protector.
She pulled one of Lady Lysa’s robes over her nightgown. She didn’t bother to dress; she didn’t need to.
Petyr was alone in the solar. He sat in front of the fire, sipping mulled mead and reading a letter. The ravens never stopped leaving the Eyrie.
“You’ll need to break your fast on more than that if you’re going to travel down the mountain,” Sansa told him, walking into the room.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Are you concerned I won’t have the strength to make it down the trail? Or is it that I will be so deep in my cups that I’ll stumble off a perilous ledge?”
Sansa frowned. “I beg pardon, my lord. It was kindly meant.” She turned on her heel to leave, but he gently caught her wrist and pulled her into the seat beside him.
“Be sure, I am not making fun of you. Your concern is sweet, if not surprising. And I already ate, so you mustn’t worry yourself, Alayne.”
“Of course I’m concerned. You’re Lord Protector.” You’re my protector.
“Is that all?”
“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted; she tried to hide the desperation in her voice. “You only just got back; I don’t want you to go again.”
“I have to, sweetling,” he was no longer smiling mirthfully. “We have our parts to play. You are playing yours well; it would be wrong of me to spoil it all and not do my bit. Don’t you agree?”
Sansa wasn’t convinced; there was nothing she could say, and she hated that.
“Why are you awake anyway?” he asked. “My sweet girl should be asleep in her bed; she shouldn’t rise before the sun. The sun should rise in anticipation of her.”
Sansa flushed at the compliment and looked down, unable to bear his gaze which straddled the line of amusement and concern.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she confessed. “Sweetrobin has taken to crawling into my bed at night. He tremors and will only sleep if he buries his face between my breasts. I lie awake, afraid he might try to suckle while I’m asleep,” she added quickly; her face grew even redder.
She saw Petyr’s eye fall to her breasts. Her robe hung open and her shift clung to her skin, leaving little to be imagined. His eyes briefly widened before he cast them down at his nearly-gone mead. He sat down the cup and grew serious.
“Tell Brune to bolt the boy in his chambers at night,” he said. “My lady should always feel safe in her bed.”
How can I feel safe without you?
“I will,” she told him.
He touched her cheek. His thumb found its way to her lip; he brushed it so gently, she almost sighed. “I wish I could take you with me.”
This was a rare admission. He might kiss her cheek and hug her neck, or even make a bawdy pass when he was feeling cheeky, but he always had one shield or another between them just to keep her distant enough.
“I wish it too,” she found herself replying. Gods. She inhaled sharply as she realized what she said. He studied her for a moment, a moment too long.
“We must part now, you and me” he told her, seriously. “Though, I might see Alayne before I make my descent, when she is dressed and proper.”
For once, Sansa did not mind being improper. He let his shield down. That was enough, this morning.
He put on a brave smile and drew up the mask of Littlefinger once more. “I’m going to do a lot of things today, sweetling. May I have kiss for luck?”
Normally, she would’ve found some way out of it, but she found she didn’t really want to. She just wanted to make him stay, though it was impossible. He’s doing this for both of us, she told herself. So, she would give him what he wanted this morning. His hand fell from her cheek; she missed it; she leaned forward, but the sound of footsteps approaching stopped her from doing what she was about to. Instead, she placed her lips on his warm, clean cheek. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hide from the kitchen maid just how long her lips lingered on his skin.
She pulled away.
“I wish you a safe journey, Father.”
She rushed out of the room before neither he nor the maid could see the frustration etched on her face.