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♔ Petyr x Sansa secrete marriage au : After having her marriage with Tyrion annouled , lord Bealish wed Sansa Stark in secret at fingers . She pretented to be his bastard daughter , until they secure Winterfell with the help of the Vale
❥ Aidan Gillen / Petyr Bealish week : Behind closed doors or Favourite | unlikely relationship
|| Petyr / Sansa x Hades Persephone wallpaper ||
Hey ! Can you write a Christmas Petyr x Sansa one shot ? Like an AU one ?
Thanks for the request @gothamsharls! Hopefully this is what you meant - if it wasn’t what you had in mind let me know and I will try again because Christmas P x S is so much fun to write! 😆
Enjoy!
XxX
Petyr slumped through the snow, the wind whipping about; nipping his face and messing his hair. Not soon enough, the flickering light of the King’s Landing Pub came into view and he buried his nose in his scarf as he pressed on.
He sighed when the warmth, which instantly fogged his glasses, greeted him at the door of the lively tavern where the patrons had already broken out into a drunken chorus of The Bear and The Maiden Fair.
The owner rolled his eyes as he snuck past them, always careful that no one was paying heed to his comings and goings, and hurried up the stairs to his personal flat.
The steps creaked and groaned as he made his way up the drafty stairwell; it had been a long day of flitting about from place to place and, being a jack-of-all-trades, it meant he had to seamlessly transition from role to role without raising any questions. And between running the central pub, working as an under-table courier for the president of Lannister Inc. and an informant for those that needed information on the Lannisters, as well as keeping tabs on his numerous grey business deals, he was worn through and through and ready to return to being Petyr for the evening. Though, he wasn’t sure Petyr was still there with all the other masks he had to add to his collection over the years…
A savory smell stilled his thoughts and he paused. His brow rose suspiciously as he retrieved his keys and unlocked the old door, his guard raised.
His senses were overwhelmed by the room; the fire was roaring, the aroma was heavenly, and it looked like a Christmas pixie had attacked his living room, not leaving a square inch free from their festive touch, while music softly played in the background.
“What the hell…” Petyr’s brow knit as he continued in, pulling his scarf off and making sure his dagger was close at hand. He wrinkled his nose when he saw the tree, decorated from trunk to top in white lights and fruit ornaments, “Lemons? Is…is that a pomegranate?” He held up the piece, distain painting his face as he looked on in disbelief, “Who makes pomegranate ornaments? Who buys them?” He rolled his eyes. Clearly someone does, he answered his own question.
“Petyr?” A sweet voice called.
His head snapped towards the kitchen, his eyes widening as he sought control of himself. That voice. He didn’t need to hear more than his name to know who it belonged to.
The footsteps echoed on the tile floor as the intruder made their way to the hallway. Time stood still as he waited for her to appear, his ears pounding and pulse racing. First he saw one black heel, and then its mate, before allowing his eyes to wander up her long legs to savor the fitted dark-grey dress she wore, embroidered with delicate black patterns made by her own hand, before he caught sight of the familiar copper curls perfectly settled upon her shoulders and framing her face. And, finally, he allowed his eyes to linger on the beautifully soft features and sparkling sapphire eyes of Sansa Stark, an acquaintance he had met a couple year prior during one of his notorious business deals in the Upper Eyrie.
He jutted his thumb over his shoulder, trying to keep up his surly mask and failing miserably, “Sansa, why is there fruit on my tree?”
“First, it isn’t your tree, I put it up, and second, that is what is in this season.” She smiled, setting the tray she held on the table. She smirked, her eyes coy, “You aren’t going to ask how I got in? Or did all of this?” Her eyes flitted around the room like a little bird before finding his once more and settling into a mischievous grin.
“I’m assuming through the door.” He quipped. A sharp pain seized his chest and his hand instinctively pressed against it, willing it to cease. His old would always acted up in the cold weather.
Sansa’s face faltered when she saw the grimace pull across his face.
“Is your scar hurting again?” Sansa asking, pouring a cuppa and bringing him the warm drink.
He smiled a thanks as he took the mug, removing his hand from his chest and feigning a smile, “It’s fine.”
“Liar.” She shook her head, her eyes narrowed playfully.
“By occupation.”
She wrinkled her nose and for a second he thought she would stick her tongue out at him, instead she sauntered back to the couch, letting him decide if he would join her or not. Unable to resist, he followed her dutifully. She wasn’t the shy girl from that first summer anymore, she was a woman of winter. Her father, the founder of Stark and Sons Law Firm, had tried to bring justice to the corrupt Lannister Inc. but his attempts ended in his abrupt and mysterious disappearance. Her mother, an old friend of Petyr’s, had sought him out to do some digging and what he uncovered led to the deaths of her eldest brother and mother that winter, even though Petyr had warned them about going up against the Lannisters.
Sansa had been left, a girl of but seventeen, in the care of her deranged Aunt and Petyr had intervened on his own to make sure Sansa and her younger siblings wouldn’t have to pay heed to her any longer and also secured the inheritance both from her father and mother’s families in Sansa’s name.
They met a couple times a year for dinner when she needed certain information her informants couldn’t gather and he always sent a memento, be it flowers or a lemon cake or a trinket, on the anniversaries to brighten her darkest days and remain in her good grace, but otherwise they never crossed paths.
Of course, he did kept up to date on the Stark girl and was content to watch her flourishing from afar as she oversaw her father’s firm and the long established businesses of her mother’s family; the grand lapidaries of the Vale and the fisheries of Tully. She established her family name and secured their place in the game, something her parents had never desired but Sansa knew to be advantageous in the long run. The girl was a natural even though she had only seen two decades thus far, he was curious where she would end up. She was truly the master of her own destiny, knowing what she wanted and going after it until she had attained it.
Petyr stood as Sansa curled up in the corner of the couch, waiting for him to say something. Petyr knew a lot of people, had manipulated and played a thousand of them with his masks, and Sansa Stark was the only one he was afraid might be able to pull his off, revealing who he truly was. The thought was torn between relief and fear.
Finally, he found his voice, “Why are you here?” He didn’t chance looking at her, instead he let his eyes wander over the twinkling lights strung around the window and framing the bustling street, now buried in white, below.
Her brow knit, taken back by the natural question, “It’s Christmas.” Was her only answer.
He was amused by how caught off she was by his inquiry and he smiled, feeling like he had gained the upper hand, “Yes, a time of cheer and good will and all the other bloody Hallmark moments. Do you not have family to pester this season, Ms. Stark?” He retorted, relishing the power and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his attempt at acting indifferent. But she saw through him with ease.
“Well, my Mum and Da are dead.” She toasted her mug to him sarcastically, “As is Rob. Jon and Arya took Rickon on a hunting trip for the break and Bran is swamped at the firm trying to keep up with all the cases that are going to trial in January.”
“So, your misery just needed company?” He bantered, sitting down in the chair across from her. He had just gotten ahead, and he knew if he sat too close to her he might lose his lead. He already had shown his hand where she was concerned in subtle ways he was sure she had picked up. She knew the sway she had over him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t play their game. Sansa Stark was easy to adore. She had gained numerous supporters over the past three years by her charisma which stirred both love and loyalty in the coldest of hearts like a fresh rose in bloom; the Lannisters never stood a chance at making the girl disappear and he had heard the rumors of how Cersei Lannister kept her distance and how the two had an unspoken truce of keeping to their designated corners.
Her face fell, her eyes hurt, “No, I wanted to see you.”
His heart stuttered, the shock played across his face before he could control it.
“Oh, come off it, Petyr. I haven’t been exactly subtle about it.” She rolled her eyes, taking a long drink from the strong cider she had poured herself.
He allowed the genuine surprise to drip into his eyes; he was quite certain their relationship was one-sided as most were in their line of work.
“You really think I need your secondhand information on the Lannisters, like I don’t have my own people already working discreetly under their noses and keeping tabs on each little lion cub?” She mused, her eye light. Teasingly, she toyed with the teardrop pearl necklace draped around her neck and Petyr took note of his gift, the first one he had given her. Of course, he had seen her wear the pieces he had gotten her to their meetings but that was a common tactic in their field; why would he expect it to mean anything more?
He tested her, his eyes narrowed, “Sansa, what do you want?” He chanced, laying it all on the table. He was always cautious but there was something about the girl before him that relieved him of the burdening masks, and he would happily accept the consequences for the peace he felt when he was alone with her. He felt like himself when he was with her and that was worth death itself.
She pulled back sharply, “I don’t want anything.” Her thoughts turned, a playfulness returning to her face, “Actually, there is one thing I want.” He tensed as she stood and walked over, perching upon his lap.
Her arms were warm as she wrapped them around his neck and slowly, she leaned in, chastely capturing his lips and smiling as his whiskers tickled her nose. It was sweet and innocent; the perfect kiss.
She pulled back, her thumb tracing his lower lip, “Happy Christmas, Petyr.” She whispered, looking to him through her lashes.
He allowed his hand to rest on her waist, his other tucked a stray curl behind her ear, “Happy Christmas, Sansa.” She smiled and rested her head against his, sighing contently.
“I still don’t get the lemons.”
She burst into her beautiful laugh, framing his face with her hands before kissing his nose, “Well, next year you can decide how we decorate it.”
He beamed, “Deal.”
XxX
I saw a post asking if the PxS community will be doing a Christmas exchange and I wanted to offer to write a one-shot for anyone that wants one, just drop your idea in my ask box or message me!
The next few days are crazy but I have an entire week off after so I will get them done as a New Year’s present to properly kick off the 20s :)
Nobody has claimed the petyr x sansa boxes. So basically they are still free for the taking. Hit me up in my ask box.
Fuck I wish my computer hadn't been eaten by a virus. I wanna do a Petyr Sansa fan vid to the song "Closer" by Kings of Leon. But it would be petyr's point of view toward sansa now. Especially the line "you shimmy shook my bones leaving me stranded all in love on my own". That could be epic....like I need to see this.
Creepship baring fruit?
Wait a minute did Littlefinger get a piece of that secret Sansa?
