A/N:

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"Robin!" Sansa sobbed. She stared at his limp body, cold and pale. "Someone help!" She cried.

Servants and guards came running. "Milady?"

Sansa cradled her young cousin's body close. "It's Robin," she wept. "I- I think he's d- dead."

The two maids gasped in horror, hands flying to their mouths as they stared at the limp body of their lord.

The rest of it was all a blur for Sansa. Littlefinger was of course notified right away, and she did not miss the satisfied expression in his eyes as he examined Robin's body, or the gleam in his eye as he 'comforted' her.

"My daughter has a sensitive heart," he explained to the maester. Sansa sniffled, unable to keep her eyes off Robin's corpse.

"How did he die?" She asked, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Littlefinger pursed his lips in a regretful expression. "It was only a matter of time," he said. "Little lord Robin was a very sick child. You know that, Alayne."

Sansa nodded. "I do," she whispered so only he could hear. "But it's just that…. Well, I've lost another family member yet again."

Littlefinger embraced her, and she tried not to recoil. "There, there, Alayne." His hands squeezed her hips.

Slimy lecher, she thought.

He pulled back and gazed at her with false sympathy. "Sweetling, why don't you go take a rest?" He suggested. "You've spent all your time caring for the little lord, and now you must deal with the grief of losing him."

Sansa nodded and sniffled. "Yes, father."

No one saw the secret smile she had as she left the room.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"But I don't want to go," Robin sniffled.

Sansa adjusted his cloak. "Hush, now, SweetRobin," she said. "Lord Yohn will take you to his castle. You're their leige lord. They'll need you to show them how to be strong, like you are. Isn't that so, Lord Royce?" She looked up at the Lord of Runestone.

Bronze Yohn Royce nodded gruffly, his slate gray eyes unreadable.

Tears streamed down Robin's face. He was being quiet for once, thank the gods.

"But you won't be there," he cried.

Sansa was unsettled to realize she did not want to leave him either.

She bit her lip and gazed at his little face. He was a handsome child, once he was healthy and gained a little color in his cheeks. Sansa had been taking care of him for the past moonturn. She took him outside to play, to let him bask in the fresh cold air and put more life into him. She dumped all the poisoned sweetmilk. She let him stay with her at night, to keep him safe and happy. All this she did for her own benefit, or so she thought, but now she realized, she cared for him.

He had Tully blue eyes, like her. Eyes that were now clear and bright with health.

She gathered him into her arms like Mother used embrace her. "It won't be forever, Robin," she whispered. "Once all the bad men are gone, we'll see each other again, I promise."

He pulled back. "You are going to defeat the bad men? Will you throw them out the Moon Door?"

"Yes." Sansa laughed despite the tears filling her eyes.

Once Robin was all saddled up, Sansa turned to Bronze Yohn.

"Please, take care of him," she said.

Bronze Yohn's eyes softened. "I will, my lady," he promised. "You have my word. I will guard him with my life." His voice was not so booming as usual.

Sansa nodded and lowered her eyes.

"I wanted to fight for your brother," Bronze Yohn said. "I knew your father. He grew up here, in the Vale. He was a good man."

"Thank you, my lord," Sansa said tremulously.

He studied her. "It's not too late," he said gently. "You could come with us. Stay at Runestone and gather support from there. We can protect you from Lord Littlefinger."

Sansa raised her eyes to his and was reminded of her father, in the fatherly look Bronze Yohn had in his eyes. It was the first time in a long while that a man had looked at her like she wasn't a piece of meat for them to own.

"Thank you, my lord, but I cannot," she said quietly. "Littlefinger is here, and he is far too smart. He mustn't think anything is amiss."

Lord Yohn looked regretful. "Be safe, my lady. Farewell."

She stood there for a long time and watched as they disappeared from sight.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Now that Little Lord Robin is dead, Harrold Hardyng is the Lord of the Vale," Littlefinger said. "Most convenient, as he is already on his way here."

"What will you do, my lord?" Sansa inquired. "Harrold Hardyng is of age, so you will no longer be Lord Protector."

His green eyes flashed with something unpleasant. Then it was gone, and he smiled.

"Why, I'll put my plan into action, of course."

Sansa had already guessed what his grand plan was. He would have her seduce and marry Harrold Hardyng, so that he could control the Vale through them. Once Sansa had a child, he would kill Hardyng, then regain the North with the Vale's army. Once they had Winterfell, Littlefinger would no doubt attempt to claim her for himself, possibly marry her, and then he'd be sitting smugly on top of the Vale and North, with Sansa at his side like some trophy meant only to please him.

That will not be happening.

"I have unfortunate news, my darling," Littlefinger continued. Sansa tensed.

"Yes?"

He looked regretful. "It seems your bastard brother is dead. I thought I might be the one to tell you, instead of you hearing it from some gossiping stranger."

Sansa went cold all over. "Jon?" She managed in a strangled voice.

He looked disinterested. "Was that his name? Ah, yes. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. It seems he was betrayed by his own men."

Sansa's heart pounded. Do not react. Do not react.

It was a struggle to keep from falling to the floor in despair. Jon, Jon, her sweet and solemn half-brother, whom she had never been particularly close to but missed just the same, because he was part of Winterfell just like her. One of the last Starks, just like her.

Knowing Jon was alive out there had kept her going, the thought of seeing him again, a piece of home, gave her hope. She had clung to thoughts of him these past moonturns, finding solace in the knowledge that she was not truly alone. That she was not the only one who had lost Winterfell.

"Why did they kill him?" She whispered.

Littlefinger looked very sympathetic. She saw right through it.

"He had let wildlings past the Wall, it seems, and some of the men were quite displeased. On top of that, he was about to break his vows and ride for Winterfell to free lady Arya."

Sansa felt the despair give way to anger. "Who did it?" She demanded.

Littlefinger gave a sly smile. "I was not told their names, only that they had done it. But one Bowen Marsh, I believe, led the attack on your brother in the courtyard. They stabbed him full of knives."

Sansa mentally added the name Bowen Marsh to her list of people to punish.

Mayhaps throw him out to freeze, naked. With a knife to take his own life when he cannot bear the cold.

A knock at the door interrupted them. Littlefinger had been gazing intensely at her, and now he looked irritated. "Who is it?" He called.

"We have travelers, my lord," a servant called.

Littlefinger stood up and brushed her hair back. "Do not fret, Sweetling," he said. "Once you have Winterfell, you can punish them for their crime."

Sansa met his eyes. "Thank you, Father."

He arched his eyebrows. "How about a kiss for your father, before I go to deal with our unknown guests?"

Sansa fought back a shudder and leaned forward to peck him on the lips. Unfortunately, before she could quickly pull back, he pressed his hands to the small of her back and pulled her against him. The kiss lasted a few seconds before he let her go, looking satisfied.

I hate you.

"Now," he said, licking his lips, "you stay in here while I go to greet the travelers. We can't take the chance that they might know you, can we?"

"Of course not, Father."

She watched him stride toward the door, and she imagined a new punishment for him.

Toss him out the Moon Door.