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Shiver, Shiver

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AUGUST 12th, 2015

“How do you feel about fucking Ned Stark’s daughter?”

Petyr nearly choked on his coffee. He placed the cup on the table between his chair and Tywin Lannister’s, eyeing him for signs of a trick. “Pardon?”

“Sansa Stark,” said Tywin. “Surely you know of her?”

“Only from news articles.” That was half a lie; Petyr had seen the Stark girl on Cat’s Facebook, too, but he wouldn’t admit to checking on his childhood crush every so often. He leaned back in his chair. “I wasn’t aware you were in the business of wooing teenagers.”

“I'm not.” Tywin stared at Petyr in his infamous, calculating way. “I was certain you would take this offer, Mr. Baelish. I’ve offered it to no one else. Have I pegged you for someone you’re not?”

Petyr rubbed his chin. Fucking Sansa Stark was certainly an idea. A realistic one, apparently, and not at all unappealing. “Go on.”

Tywin waved his hand in summons. Cersei, blonde and beautiful and graceful as ever, crossed the room and handed a stapled packet to Petyr. “The Democratic Committee has planned on naming Ned Stark their frontrunner in the state election,” she said. Petyr flipped through the packet, a series of emails back and forth between committee members. “No one else has a chance.”

“Ned Stark doesn’t seem the type to siege a nomination,” said Petyr. “He’s just a lawyer.”

“Yes, but he’s going to run. And people want him to run.” Cersei sighed, folding her arms and walking to the window of her father’s office. “It’s rare that there’s a politician who’s liked by both sides of the aisle. Stark hasn’t tried to clinch the nomination, but he’ll get it regardless. They like him. He’s their strongest bet.” She turned away from the window, contrite. “We need to weaken him.”

Petyr didn’t need to ask why. Ned Stark had been causing all sorts of problems for Lannister Industries, the oil mega-corporation that Tywin had raised from the ground up. If Ned was given a position in government, he could push legislation that would prevent Tywin from doing business the way he liked: illegally.

“Why go after the girl?” Petyr asked. “Not that I’m refusing, but a teenager seems an odd choice. Why not Ned Stark himself? His wife?”

“We considered going through the eldest, Robb,” said Tywin. “But according to you, he is as loyal to his parents as one could be.”

Petyr nodded. “He’s been taking my classes for the past two years. I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t let campaign information loose. That doesn’t answer my question, though.”

Tywin rested his arm on the back of the couch. “Sansa Stark is weak. I feel confident she would release information when prompted by someone she’s infatuated with.”

“Infatuated?” questioned Petyr. “That’s a strong word.”

“You managed to get the Tyrell heiress on our side, using your tactics. A teenaged girl will be far easier.”

Cersei wore a cruel frown. “Sansa humiliated my son at prom. Dumped her drink all over him after they won king and queen. He was bullied relentlessly until graduation. He still hasn’t recovered.”

Perhaps Joffrey should grow a pair. Petyr knew better than to say that aloud, and ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. “And you chose me because…?”

“Your days as a lobbyist for my company were some of the best in its history,” said Tywin. “I understand that you enjoy being a professor at Columbia, and it just so happens that Miss Stark will be attending in the fall. You’ve never hidden your… talent for persuasion,” Tywin complimented. “A naive girl would be the perfect project for you.”

Petyr grinned. His business with the Lannisters had left him rich, able to live in luxury for the rest of his days, and he’d rewarded them equally with his skills in politics. It seemed they were still eager to repay him for all that he’d done. And while there was danger in accepting this scandal, his curiosity had been piqued. Fucking Sansa Stark was too tempting a prize. Let Tywin think he has his loyalty. For now.

“Would you like to see a picture of her?”

“No need,” said Petyr, standing from the sofa. “She is Cat’s daughter. I’m sure she’s beautiful.”

“We’ll need as much information as you can provide before Ned Stark officially receives the nomination in the summer,” said Tywin. He rose to his feet. “Is that enough time?”

“Oh, plenty.”

The two businessmen shook hands. Petyr could already imagine the deplorable act of bringing young Sansa Stark to her knees. He had a wide range of strategies he’d learned over the years, but no one to use them on, no one who excited him. Until now. He’d never met her before, but Petyr knew that valiant Ned's precious daughter would be the greatest chase he’d ever have.

“You may want to begin sooner than later,” called Tywin as Petyr made for the office door. “She’s a religious virgin. She’ll take more time than most.”

“Don’t worry,” said Petyr, one hand on the doorknob and a smug grin on his lips. “I know just where to start.”