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The shaking started again. Sansa felt as though her body were being torn from her mind, splitting into two separate entities, plummeting into the void.
The ground ceased to be solid, giving way to the anxiety facing this again. The jury, the sleepless nights, the last-minute submissions, and the comments with Professor Lannister before her final defence. Everything had to be perfect; it was her last step before becoming a doctor.
“Take my hand.”
His voice pierced through the fog in her mind, his steady hands bringing her back to earth. The coldness she felt in her chest ceased, allowing the young woman to breathe after what felt like an eternity. Kind green eyes searched her, looking inside her shell for some sign, something that would tell him she understood.
“Sansa.”
Her name rang out clearly before her. She blinked, and slowly the blurred figures and silhouettes came into focus, revealing the spacious foyer of the university theatre, but they were all eclipsed by him. Petyr crouched down in front of her, clasping her hands together, like a prayer, screaming I won't let you go, you're not alone.
Then, without really knowing why, she felt one of his hands rise to her cheek and, with a light caress, wipe away a tear that had begun to roll down her cheek. It was almost brotherly, an old family friend comforting the daughter of his once-elder sister. Feelings she struggled to hide threatened to surface because he was so close that she could feel his breath brush her eyelids.
Because she was afraid her heartbeat revealed her soul crystal clear.
“I can't do it, Petyr. I've been at this for so long that this last step is impossible for me.” Everything was done, but at the same time it wasn't.
Her doctorate, her slide deck, all the exams, there was nothing left to do except face a panel of uptight professors who humiliated students for sport.
“I don't believe any of that, sweetling. You've been ready for a long time; you have to take charge of this moment. No one has worked harder than you; now it's your turn to reap the rewards.”
Strong arms pulled her towards him and enveloped her in a tender embrace. She smelled his featherlight perfume, which magically always filled the room as well as a hint of tobacco, although Petyr always said he was quitting the horrible habit.
“You just have to go in there and give a masterful speech that will leave Tywin Lannister himself speechless and with no choice but to give you your well-deserved honours. And afterwards, I promise I'll treat you to lemon cakes.”
"You promise?" She replied, unable to hide a smile.
“I promise, sweetling. Are you feeling better?”
Sansa nodded, wiping away the last of her tears. "Much better, yes. Thank you."
It was as if a veil of anguish had lifted from her, and all the colours and the world around her took on a different hue. She was calmer; after all, she knew that Petyr was right, that she was more than prepared for what she had to face.
“I'll be out here waiting, but I won't leave you.” With that, he kissed her on the forehead as a farewell.
He lingered for a heartbeat longer. The girl shivered.