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The dark, stone room filled with long shadows as the evening set in around the castle, casting an ominous spell upon King's Landing. The only source of light, apart from the sliver of moon painted over the glassy sea, was the roaring fire in the far end of the room, which was still cool despite the immense effort of the grand flames.

A pair sat next to each other at the table in one of the rooms deep in the castle, away from the beauty of the night, their heads almost touching as they placed the final touches on their next plot.

Softly, a knock echoed throughout the room, hushing their whispers.

Lifting her head, which caught the fire and crowned her with a sinister halo, Cersei beckoned, "Enter."

"You desired to see me, my lord and lady?" Came the formal reply from Petyr Baelish as he was escorted into the room. Guards lingered on either side of the Player of Thrones, forcing another layer to build upon his thick mask so as to conceal his unnerve. He stopped at the far end of the table, fixing his sleeve as he always did, a nasty habit he had taken up in his youth, and tried to look unperturbed.

"Yes, won't you join us Lord Baelish?" Cersei inquired, her voice that of a cat who knew it was about to win.

His grey eyes, dusted with green, wandered to the empty chair beside the Hand of the King before chancing one last look up at the pair and moving towards them to take up his assigned seat. Cersei had yet to take her eyes from the Lord, her face remaining unreadable, her plans not yet ready to be unveiled.

Perching on the chair's edge like a mockingbird preparing to take flight at a moment's notice, Petyr rested his hand on the table and looked between the two, "You desired to see me?" He repeated informally, keeping his tone easy and light.

Tywin Lannister decided to prolong the silence by pouring them each a glass of wine, handing them out and taking a deep drink of his own goblet before he replied, "Indeed, we were just discussing your…proposal during our last talk. The one that involves the young Stark girl and her future."

Petyr's heart beat faster than any small bird's wings, nervous his plan to sneak the young girl out of the city to Eyrie had been uncovered. The green marbled with the grey, hardening as he dared a look at the doors, which were clearly barred and guarded, and he instantly started preparing his speech for why the rumor was untrue.

"Specifically, your idea on how to keep her as a part of our Game's court and, eventually, give her a reason to play." Tywin explained, easing the Lord's pulse.

Petyr turned to the older adviser, the sincere surprise in his eyes fitting the moment, "Oh?" He managed, his thoughts turning to recall which meeting Tywin was referring to. There had been so many ideas cast about the last few weeks concerning the girl as each House sought to snatch the Northern heir that he couldn't place which plan the Lannister wanted to revisit.

"Yes, I believe we were too hard on your status, saying that you were too lowly of birth was short sighted of us." Tywin swirled his goblet, gazing into its depths as if it held the answer to all questions, "Truly, if a man can make it to where you are without any blood or money to his name then he is a man to be respected and regarded as a key player in the Game. He is not a man we want against us at any point." He looked up, his weathered eyes pale but ruthless as he smirked. The true meaning behind the words shone through in that look.

And, with the extra pieces, Petyr put it all together and instantly knew what plan they were discussing. His back leaned lightly against the uncomfortable wood of the delicately carved chair as his wit worked, knowing that the Lannisters always required more than they gave.

"We brought you here, at this late hour, to inquire if your offer to secure the girl for us was still good?" Tywin asked, his tone one of courtesy instead of true inquiry. Of course the offer was good, no one dared to even think of going back on their word to the Hand of the King, especially when the King was a sadistic boy with countless ways of tormenting others.

Cersei's eyes narrowed as she let a dark grin paint her red lips. Petyr took note; knowing more than one Game was being played and that he had to uncover what she wanted sooner rather than later. As for now, though, he would have to let the matter rest as he finished the one with Tywin.

Slowly, in a pretense of consideration, Petyr nodded and dropped his head so they couldn't see his face, even though he let no expression trickle across it as he calculated his next move, "Indeed, my lord. I am at your service for whatever you need and see fit to do." Came the seasoned response, the exact one the Lannister pair had counted on.

If Petyr wasn't a seasoned player of the Game he would have let his pleasure at their change of heart, if it could be called that, drip into his eyes and allow his thrill of succeeding distract him from the Game afoot. But, Petyr was well seasoned and he knew better than to play to their advantage at this time. He had already risked much when he had first offered to wed the girl – it had been an impulse and an un-thought out move at the time, one which had only been said in response when they had first suggested that the young Stark marry to the youngest Lannister, the Imp.

Petyr would learn from his mistake this time and keep to the safer, higher ground. Thus, he remained quiet and waited for them to break the silence.

"Good, that is very good to hear, Lord Baelish." Tywin replied after finishing his drink, "With Joffrey's wedding coming up we will not have sufficient funds to pay for an additional one for an orphaned girl, of course. As such, coupled with your status and earned title, we see it fit to push for a short engagement concluding with an elopement before the Godswoods within a fortnight so that it will not interfere with…other plans."

Petyr wanted to inquire after the girl as to whether she still needed more time to mourn the loss of her brother and mother before being arranged in a marriage with him, someone he knew she would not be happy to be paired off with, especially considering she had her heart set on Sir Loras. But he knew better than to expect or even to ask for any compassion from those before him when the topic concerned the deaths of traitors to their House.

"She is quite a religious little dove; it will mean so much to her Lord Baelish to be married before the Heart Tree." Cersei explained, her eyes teasing, "And she would greatly appreciate the hush of the arrangement. Sansa has always prefer not to be fussed over anyway and, considering she will be marrying quite lower than she had ever thought she would as a Stark, I think it will be best not to heap more embarrassment on the poor girl. No, that would be cruel. It is best to give her a quick, discrete engagement and a quiet ceremony before the trees."

The venomous words met their intended mark, reminding Petyr that he was still, and would always be, lowlier than them, but they didn't remain in his guarded heart or linger in his turning thoughts. His focus was solely on the young girl who had just found out within the week that she was well on her way to being the last of her line and coming up with a way to buy her more time to mourn. As such, Petyr would also be grated time to woo her properly, and permanently, to his side and possibly help her warm to the idea of being his lady wife instead of forcing a rushed marriage upon her. But that was just an afterthought; at least, that is what the Lord told himself.

Petyr was definitely a Master of the Game, but to say he was completely heartless when it came to the women of House Stark was a grievous mistake. Of course that was a trait he kept strictly to himself.

A new plan revealed itself to the Lord, one which might give Sansa the time she needed, "Has she flowered? There is no use in taking a young wife if she is not yet able to carry a child." He inquired, fixing his cuff and trying to appear unmoved by the topic.

Cersei saw through him like glass, knowing how much he desired the girl, "She flowered a few months ago. Her Septa, who has assured me that her maiden's gift is still intact, agrees that it is time for her to be brought under the protection of a husband before she becomes too tempting to those in the castle. Sansa is entering the peak of her womanhood and the pinnacle of her beauty, surly you have noticed? Everyone else has." She asked, her head rolling slightly to study him, "Sansa should be able to carry strong sons quite well. Women of the North are known for their durability. So…there is no problem with her to be found, my lord. But, that's not what you are worried about, is it?" She toyed before him, trying to bait him, "You shouldn't have any problem placing a child within her belly, should you Littlefinger?"

Petyr refused the lure and, finishing the last pull of his cuff, looked up to meet her straight on, "The House of Baelish has never had a problem securing their place in this world." He replied, folding his hands together gracefully on the table in a silent defeat, knowing that was the last card he had to play and that he couldn't buy Sansa any time like he had wanted to.

"Indeed, it hasn't." Cersei replied, looking down her long nose at him and choosing to wait for another day to continue their Game.

Tywin, who had been sitting back watching their banter with amusement, circled the lip of his goblet with a finger, "Now, of course, we will require a…favor of sorts, in exchange for our generous gift to you, Lord Baelish."

The pale lips of the Lord turned up into a grin, having wondered when what they wanted would be addressed, "I am truly your humble servant, my lord, and will do whatever I can to help advance your desires for the flourishing Kingdom. It is not a favor, but an honor to—"

"No need for laud and fawning, Lord Baelish. This is business, nothing more." Tywin waved away Petyr's words, "You will need to save your charm for when you go to bed the Stark girl. Not all of them fall so easily into your sheets, if you remember correctly, and it might take a bit to win her loyalty, especially considering the treatment you showed her father."

Petyr leaned back in the chair, seeking to size up the elder Lannister and figure out his hand. Thought Petyr had always held to the code of confusing ones enemies, he could usually see through their smoke and mirrors with ease and deduce their game. Tonight however, as he received what he had wanted for a long while, he found his discernment slightly off point.

"You need to secure the support of the Eyrie for us." Tywin finally stated, his eyes narrowed and serious.

"How do you propose I go about that, my lord?" Petyr asked, the hairs on his neck raising as he thought through the different options.

The only sure way he could think of to secure the title of Lord of the Vale was by marrying into the line and there was only one female, the regent as it were, in the line: Lysa Arryn. But that went against everything they had previously discussed, unless they meant for Sansa to be a kept woman instead of his wife – but that too was problematic because they had mentioned a Heart Tree, where only vows of marriage were spoken.

Raising a brow, Petyr looked back to the Lannister. How do you plan for me to marry the Stark girl within a fortnight and yet have me secure the Eyrie when the only option for that would be marriage? There must be a great plot in the making, Petyr thought to himself, his eyes wandering to the fire as he mulled over different ideas.

Tywin smirked darkly, the plan already written out in his thoughts, and cleared his throat to bid the Lord's attention to him, "Oh, do not worry yourself. You will have the Stark girl in your bed within the month. Besides, I would never ask you to stoop so low as to marry the basket case that is Lady Arryn. Not even someone of your rank should be forced to endure such a punishment." He reached for the pitcher and poured another glass of wine, "But, once you are wedded and bedded, I would like you to travel to the Eyrie to ensure their alliance by using that striking charm of yours to convince the protective mother, who was quite fond of you in her youth and, rumors has, still is, that her dear little boy would flourish as the Lord of the Vale under a man's watchful eye. I want you to convince her to sign over wardship of young Robin to me and then do as you see fit with the loose ends."

Petyr opened his mouth to inquire after Sansa, but the Queen Regent was a step ahead of him.

"Do not worry about your young, little bride, my lord; I will keep the little dove under my watchful eye. No harm will come to her." Her eyes grew sinister, casting a negative and distrusting feel upon her promise.

Petyr shifted his foot under the table, uneasy with the proposition, and pretended to consider it.

He, along with everyone else, had seen the way Joffrey gazed at Sansa Stark, it had been the driving force behind the question he was about to ask. The lust in the malicious King's face was written clearly, almost uncomfortably, on ever part of his face, something Joffrey never even attempted to conceal. And, especially after what had happened to Ros, Petyr swore he would never leave Sansa's side while that monster still lived, he wasn't about to take back his self-imposed oath. Not now, not ever.

In addition to his concern towards the Boy-King, as Cersei had said, the young Stark had truly come into her body and was glowing in her youthful beauty which set up a steep temptation that even the most skilled of players could fall into. It was a spell that Petyr had found himself under, an enchantment only certain ones with Tully blood knew.

Coupled with the temptation of lust, the Lord also found himself slowly being taken over by an odd sense of jealousy at the attention little Sansa was receiving in court. It wasn't just about envious possession as it had been about with Cat, but something else. Something Petyr was not willing to admit for fear of the weakness it brought with it.

All in all, married or not, he could not truly protect Sansa from the advances of others if he was not present. Ultimately, a ring and their spoken vows before the old gods wouldn't be enough to shield the young bride if one stumbled upon her, alone, in the gardens and the temptation grew too great.

Money could only garner a certain amount of protection and even then there wasn't anyone he trusted to watch out for her in his absence, just as there wasn't anyone now who he could count upon, which is what kept him tied to King's Landing and continually pushing off business elsewhere.

"You will need to use whatever means necessary to get Lysa to agree to the arrangement." Tywin continued, trying to sway Petyr to his side, "That is no place for a young bride, especially one who isn't a player in the Games nor knows how to conduct herself in such plots. She is too innocent still to understand the Games of Men. Her father passed on his too honorable heart to her, I doubt she will ever be able to lie properly. You would do better to lock her in your chambers while you go about your exploits."

"You underestimate my teaching skills, my lord. I am sure that I can play her well enough to keep her in line and sticking to her part." Petyr chanced, finding his confidence and trying an alternative route, "Also, as her husband, I have a right to decide where she comes and goes, as well as where she stays. The law says as much."

"Careful, Lord Baelish, she is not yours yet." Tywin warned.

Petyr inclined his head, pulling back his advances, "Indeed, my lord. Excuse my insolence, it was not intended."

"Sansa will not be able to play a part. Obedient she may be, but she has no skills apart from domestic." Cersei countered, annoyed by his objection, "She can't lie for anything, you yourself have said as much, and will give you away the instant you step foot in the Eyrie."

"My opinion respectfully differs from yours, my lady." Petyr replied, reluctantly turning to the Queen Mother, "I think you underestimate her Stark blood and how much of a player she can be when given the chance." He turned back to Tywin, the most powerful of all the Lannisters, to gain ground, "We have to attract her to our side of the cause and, to do that successfully, we need to give a little and show her how much power she wields, but only within the boundaries we have establish for her. We have to have her rely solely on us. To accomplish this, we must give her something to gain her trust, something that can be taken away at a moment's notice if we are not in the picture, so that she is easier to control later. The direwolf won't bite the hand that tends to it if it is trained well from a pup."

"How will you be able to seduce Lady Arryn when accompanied by your little wife? Surly Sansa will be a distraction not just to you but her Aunt as well, stirring up deep loyalties she holds for her dead sister." Cersei continued, "Not to mention that wife of yours could potentially undermine any of your attempts to bed another. Sansa will not be happy with your match, I assure you, but she will be even more upset by the fact that her lord husband is not keeping the vows he stated before her gods to be loyal to her alone. She could ruin all of our plans if she accompanies you to the Eyrie." Cersei countered, the desperation cracking her voice as she saw herself losing control of the red-headed Stark.

"There are ways to win a woman's favor without the need of sheets, my lady. Lady Arryn is an old friend of mine and you can rest assured that she supports our cause. And, besides, Lady Arryn has not seen Sansa since she was a child—"

Cersei leaned back in her chair with crossed arms, mumbling, "Was and is…"

"—and if you are worried about her being swayed by the visit of a Stark, Sansa can dye her hair and go as my niece, a ward of mine and nothing more. I know Lysa to be a very jealous woman, she has been ever since we were children, as such I have already decided that it would be safest for Sansa if she appears as a charge instead of my wife for the duration of our stay." Petyr held out his hands, daring her to ask another question and test his resolve. They might have won on the requirement for a short engagement but they would not be winning on this.

"A trip outside of these walls will offer her a taste of freedom, a reason to trust me and sway her to our plans eventually." Petyr pressed, "It will be a gift, if you will, for how obedient she has been and will show her what is to come if she keeps behaving herself. Besides, it will be quite easy to sway the girl to change her appearance to accompany me, more than anything she desires to be away from King's Landing anyway, and it will be even easier to convince her that she needs to keep up a front so as not to be sent back."

Cersei's eyes slit, knowing she had met her match this day.

Tywin leaned back, studying the Lord, tapping his finger against his thin lips. Petyr held his head high, letting his eyes return boldly to meet Tywin's and daring him to find fault with what he said.

"You believe you can train the pawn to be of controllable use later on?" Tywin mulled aloud, his eyes narrowing in study.

"I do." Petyr smiled like Cheshire cat. By the sour etched in Cersei's face, he knew he was gaining ground, "The girl has taken enough hits for our cause, if we want to use her to our advantage later we must start giving her sometime in return for her suffering. Showing her we trust her with this assignment and loosening the reigns enough to give her a controlled sense of freedom might help our cause. Who better to sway the North back to us than their sole heir?" Petyr finished with a charmed smile.

"Father, you can't seriously be considering—"

With a sharply raised hand Tywin instantly silenced his daughter, reminding her of her place.

"Very well, Lord Baelish." Each word was said with a growing weight, as if the following should be taken with great heed, "If you believe that you can control the direwolf pup, than she is yours to do with as you see fit. But if she fails, she will not be the only one. Am I understood?"

Petyr gave a solid nod, his face stoic, "I understand, my lord."

"Good, very good. We will announce the engagement tomorrow, Cersei will talk with the Stark girl privately, of course, before it is announced." Tywin looked to his daughter, continuing only when she confirmed what he said with a nod, "Congratulations on your engagement, may you have many healthy sons to carry your name on."

Petyr inclined his head in thanks of the blessing.

"With this issued settled, you may leave us until tomorrow. At first light I will expect you at court to solidify a few large expenses coming up and then, of course, for the announcement later that morning." Tywin nodded to the door and began to rummage through the papers scattered before him on the table.

Petyr stood and gave a slight bow of respect as the traditional formalities were exchanged before taking his leave. He began to fix his cuff once he was out in the hall, making sure the white of his tunic sleeve could be seen against the dark, rich green of his outer coat.

His thoughts turned as he walked back to his quarters, finally able to contemplate the large gift the Lannisters had bestowed upon him.

Strings or not, Sansa Stark would now be his. His lady wife and his bed mate till the end of days. Within a fortnight her body would be his completely and fully, and he could start on the long journey of winning her heart and soul. His desire overcame his lust for ambition in that moment as he snuck into his room, pretending as if he had never left in the first place.

As he ready for bed, he considered the lies he had told to keep the girl with him when he went to Eyrie.

Of course Petyr did not think the girl was gifted with the strength of her father, all of that had gone to the small Ayra, but he knew that if he sought to protect her from the Game that he would have to put her out, just as one would with their first pawn in a game, and do everything within his power to keep her safe after that move.

And, maybe, under his watchful eye and guiding hand she could become a piece to be reckoned with on her own. After all, once the small pawn had gone to the ends of the board it became a queen in its own right.

Petyr moved to the window and opened the wooden panel, letting the salty sea breeze fill the air around him. Closing his eyes, he pushed his face into it as his hands rested upon the cool, stone sill, "I will keep you safe, Little Pawn," He whispered to the night, "I swear by the gods and anything else there might be. I will keep you safe if nothing else."

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