Sansa, Ramsay, Brienne, Osmund, Orys and Tyrion met Petyr and his men when they arrived. Ramsay and Sansa stood out towards the front with Tyrion. Osmund, Orys and Brienne stood directly behind them. Petyr had arrived with the Knights of the Vale just like he had promised. Sansa was elated. Ramsay and Tyrion were a little impressed. They hadn't known specifically how many men he'd bring, or how many men he had at his beck and call. They knew now.

Petyr dismounted from his horse and took a look at the people before him walking from Tyrion down.

"Tyrion," Petyr purred, "Brienne," he nodded to her, "Sansa," he stopped and took her hand, placing a kiss on it.

Ramsay decided he didn't like him.

"Ramsay," Petyr acknowledged.

Sansa took one look at her husband and knew that he wanted to stab the first person he came in contact with. She intervened.

"Uncle Petyr," Sansa smiled at him, "Welcome to Winterfell," she left her husband's side and gripped Petyr's arm steering him back towards his men and beginning to walk.

"Anything to help you, Sansa. That's what family is for."

Tyrion looked at Ramsay who was glaring holes in to the back of Littlefinger's head and cleared his throat. Ramsay's head turned violently fast to look at him. He would never get used to the amount of rage this man showed on a daily basis. Orys and Osmund walked closer, one on each side of him and Brienne trailed off to follow after Sansa. She and Littlefinger had begun to wander.

"You aren't very fond of Petyr are you?" Tyrion asked, the four of them all watching him and Sansa walk and talk.

"No," Ramsay said dryly.

"I'll deal with the problem," Osmund offered.

Tyrion turned to look at the three men beside him. That was the most he had ever heard Osmund speak. The three of them both looked damn right deadly. He wasn't sure how Sansa was so comfortable around them. He assumed he should be grateful they wanted to protect her and the baby. He doubted people in their right mind would attempt to take on one of them let alone all three.

"No problem," Ramsay sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, "Sansa wants the men and he's her uncle," he spat the word, "but one stare that last too long or drifts a little lower than respectable and I want his eyes brought to me."

Orys pulled a knife out of seemingly thin air and a smile toyed at his lips as he spun it between his fingers.

"I'll take care of it."

"Do," Ramsay's own sadistic smile toyed on his lips and he looked down at Tyrion beside him, tearing his eyes away from his wife for the first time since she'd left his side, "Do you like him?" he asked.

Tyrion was visibly shocked by the Lord of the house speaking to him, let alone asking him for his opinion.

"No," Tyrion said simply, "I don't trust Petyr but I trust Sansa and she's simply playing the great game."

Ramsay nodded once. The amount of respect he held for his wife was constantly growing with the days. Her laugh tore through the silence and the four men regarded the scene before them in utter silence.

X

Arya Stark glared at the man before her. She hated him. She hated him and every other person in King's Landing. She'd been being discrete. She'd exited the ship and headed north. She was going home no matter what it took. She had heard from more than one person that Sansa had escaped the Lannisters and was at Winterfell. That was where she was going. Sansa was her sister despite how they'd felt the last time they had seen each other. She would protect her last living kin no matter what. Sansa wasn't exactly capable of taking care of herself. She had heard that Sansa was okay for the time being, but that the Freys wanted her head. They would have to take it over Arya's dead body. She had trained for this. She was going to annihilate the Freys and everyone else on her list. The man before her was on her list- The Hound.

He'd grabbed her by her shirt and called her by her name- her real name. He'd promised not to hurt her and offered to bring her to Winterfell. She wasn't sure why that was. She should have killed him where he stood, but she couldn't once he started talking about her sister, about how he had given her something to cover herself with when she was being humiliated in front of the court or how he had stopped her from getting beaten or Gods forbid, raped. She couldn't in her right conscious kill someone that had helped her sister. She hadn't taken him off of the list. She had simply moved him down. Sansa would tell her if he was telling the truth or not and if he wasn't she would cut him down. He would be crossed off of her list and then she could focus on the Freys. They were at the top of her list. They had taken her eldest brother and her mother and now they were after her sister. The whole lot of them would be murdered in their own home. She would see to it.

Arya's hand began to shake with the simple thought of it. Sansa's safety came before her need for revenge though. She would get to her sister and then move from there.

Walder Frey.

Joffery.

Cersi.

Tywin Lannister.

The Red Woman.

Beric Dondarrion.

Thoros of Mer.

Ser Ilyn Payne.

The Mountain.

The Hound.

The Hound looked at Arya in mild amusement as she mouthed words to herself, her eyes starring in to the fire between them. He didn't have the time, energy or want to find out what was wrong with the dumb girl. He just wanted to get her to Winterfell and collect some gold from the Boltons for her. He'd heard Roose was dead and the Bolton Bastard had taken over. He'd also heard that the north was rallying for Sansa Stark. The thought amused him. The shaken, little girl he had seen in King's Landing was no more if that was the case. He took a deep breath and then gulped down a drink of ale. If Sansa had in fact come in to a more firm and manipulative version of herself he might actually stick around… for amusement and the such.

X

Winterfell was in an uproar and it was making Sansa crazy. Tyrion could tell. She'd collapsed for dinner in her normal place. Her husband had sat across from her with Orys and Tyrion beside him. Bronn sat on the other side of Tyrion. Petyr had sat on one side of Sansa, facing Orys and Shae on the other facing Tyrion. Brienne had gone off with Podrick. He was leaving Winterfell for a little. He wanted to go off for some reason Sansa hadn't bothered asking about. If he'd wanted to inform her, he would have. Osmund had taken his food off to sit with some of the other Bolton Boys when Petyr had sat down, something that everyone had picked up on. To Sansa, it seemed like Osmund was jumping up every five minutes to stop a fight. The Vale knights and Ramsay's Boys were quite frankly, not very fond of each other and while Ramsay found their scuffles amusing, Sansa was growing irate.

"I apologize for my men," Petyr offered to her, "They're a little on edge around the other men."

"It's fine, Uncle Petyr," Sansa lied.

Tyrion took a drink out of his goblet and stole a look at Ramsay, who was toying with a knife and watching his wife intently.

"They've heard the horrible tales of everything you've gone through and they're eager to help you, Lady Stark."

"Bolton," Ramsay interrupted dryly.

Orys and Bronn both laughed. Shae directed her attention to Tyrion who drowned down the rest of his glass and held it towards her to refill it.

"Right. I apologize," Petyr smiled at Ramsay and then turned back to Sansa, "but how are you feeling, Sansa considering…"

"Considering?" Sansa questioned.

"Considering everything that you've been through- losing you aunt and being here alone while dealing with your marriage."

Sansa opened her mouth but it shut instantly when Ramsay threw his blade skillfully across the table and its occupants watched it dig in to the table in front of Petyr. Bronn doubled over laughing. Orys had gotten extremely serious. Sansa shot her husband a look that he never saw. He was too busy glaring at Petyr who had his eyes fixed on the blade before him a small smile on his lips.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ramsay growled.

"It means you aren't exactly known for your kindness," Peytr said simply.

"Yet, you brought her here to marry me," Ramsay scoffed, "Now you're worried about her wellbeing?"

"I was told no harm should come to her,"

"And does she look harmed to you?" Ramsay snapped, "I'm starting to believe you're making comments just to piss me off."

Tyrion cleared his throat and Sansa clasped her hands on the table.

"We're all enemies with the Freys now," Sansa interrupted, "You both want to protect me for whatever your own reasons are. You're allies now."

"Whatever," Ramsay stood abruptly and reached across the table yanking his knife out of it, "Eat something, Stark," he glowered, "I'm going to bed."

"Ramsay-" Sansa started.

"Goodnight," he interrupted.

Sansa watched her husband stalk out of the dining hall. He seemed to be mad at her more and more lately. She spooned some food in to her mouth.

"Is he-"

"Don't," she interrupted her makeshift uncle, "Ramsay isn't up for discussion, uncle. We have an understanding."

Petyr nodded mutely and Tyrion sighed. Sansa had somehow defused the bomb for the night, but there was much time to come before Petyr returned to the Vale and there was only so much that Ramsay could put up with. Everyone at the table knew that. They were all sure Petyr knew that. He was a lot of things, but a fool was not one of them, Tyrion stole a look at him, eating his food with a small look of amusement. Petyr was up to something and it involved pissing Ramsay off. Tyrion hoped that Littlefinger was aware that upsetting that man normally ended in an excruciatingly painful death.

Sansa excused herself from dinner shortly after Ramsay's departure. She had forced down an entire plate of food after Orys had made it known that his loyalties lied with Ramsay and if he asked if she'd eaten he would not lie. She'd wished everyone a goodnight and told Tyrion she would be seeing him early in the morning. That was her way of telling him that they needed to talk politics. He had nodded and she had gone with Orys on her heels. Ramsay was proving true to not letting her be alone. She didn't put up a fight about it anymore.

Sansa and Ramsay had taken up in the bedroom that belonged to her parents. It would take time for her door to be fixed. It had been decided that since they were the Lord and Lady of the home they would now reside in the master bedroom. Sansa and Robb's old rooms would be for their children. She refused to touch Rickon, Brann or Arya's room and she knew for a fact that Jon would be back and there was a possibility of Theon. When she and Orys reached the bedroom, Sansa pushed the door open and peaked inside. Surprisingly, Ramsay was in their bed, sitting with his back against the wall, throwing knives across the room and in to the wall. Orys peaked inside as well and nodded at Ramsay before leaving them alone. She didn't need to be guarded when she was with her husband. No one protect her or their child better. He dragged her with him almost everywhere he went now, unless he was training. According to him that was no place for a pregnant woman. Sansa entered their room fully and closed the door before her.

"You can't stick your knives in every single table and wall in Winterfell," Sansa teased.

"It was either the table or your uncle," he hissed the word.

Sansa sat beside her husband.

"You don't like Petyr," she said simply, "Neither do I. That man is a snake in the grass and a manipulator of the highest entity."

Ramsay was visibly shocked by the venom in his wife's voice. He turned his head to look at her side profile.

"Then why is he here?" he questioned.

Sansa didn't hide things from her husband. He was her partner. He had killed his sibling for her and watched her kill his father and his lover. They didn't hide things. Secrets led to weakness. The last thing they needed was someone revealing their secrets and causing a rip in their alliance to one another.

"Because he has men," she said simply, "and we needed them. But, believe me, Petyr will be dealt with, Ramsay. He knew exactly what sort of people you and your father were, no offense. I'm fond of you now really, but he knew of your… habits… and he threw me in to your lap anyway. Besides, Brienne told me that he told my mother Arya was with me. He told me Arya was with my mother. He lied to us. He lied to us because he has something to hide. That's the only time people lie and people that have things to hide from me have no home in our lands," Sansa turned to face her husband and smiled at him, "Petyr Baelish has contacts that I may need, but when he crosses us like I know he will, you can have him. I just need to figure out what part he played in my horrors of King's Landing."

Ramsay picked up the blades beside him and threw them in to the wall one after another, watching them all hit their mark.

"Good," he hissed.

A/N: I've been responding to everyone's reviews if they have questions in them sooo if you have any questions feel free to leave them or PM me. If you leave them I will PM the answer to you! Thank you to all of the lovely people that read, follow, favorite or review this fic. Thank you to the people that simply breeze through with no desire to continue. I appreciate it all. I have finally introduced Arya sort of so YAY! Also, I sent Podrick off because I found myself constantly forgetting about him. His character was mentioned maybe three times in this whole thing. He may -wink- -wink- come back later when I'm not so focused on moving characters and developing Sansa in to a strong little lady willing to do anything for her home and transitioning Ramsay's respect for her choices in to a little more.