A/N: contains violence.

Mockingbird

"Nothing isn't better or worse than anything. Nothing is just nothing."

For the seventh time that day, Rose's sword clatters out of her hand, onto the stone floor. She sighs, breathless, and bends down to pick it up. When she rises again, Ser Gunther places the tip of his own wooden sword under her chin.

"Head up," he instructs. Stepping back, he readies himself. "Again."

Rose lunges at him, and their swords click together.

"Again," he orders. His own sword moves against her, forcing her to pivot, to strike from the other side.

"Again." Her feet dance beneath her, eyes sharp as she watches him move. His sword goes to hit at her, but she blocks it, the adrenaline kicking in.

"Again!" he shouts. Her feet move quicker, turning and pivoting as he strikes at her from all angles until she clashes his sword out of the way and tags him on the stomach. Gunther grins. "Good."

From the staircase, Littlefinger watches as Rose circles the Master-at-Arms, demonstrating a natural grace, her brow furrowed in concentration. He doesn't turn around when he feels his wife approaching his side.

"She's a fast learner," he muses, over the sounds of batting wood and feet squeaking against the hall's floor. "A skilled warrior, she'll make."

Lysa grimaces. "Is it proper? A high-born girl like herself sparring with knights?"

"Rose is a sweet girl, but she has a wild temper," Littlefinger explains, softly. "She's angry at the terrible things that happened to her family. Sometimes, the best way to deal with our anger is to lash out. To brawl it away."

In the hall, Ser Gunther and Rose orbit the sealed Moon Door, and he says something which makes her laugh, before charging at her once again. She staggers a little, taken aback, but quickly regains her footing and blocks his incessant blows.

"Such aggression," Lysa sighs, shaking her head. "She clearly didn't get that from my side of the family."

Littlefinger turns to face her. "Be gentle with her, my love."

"Why do you care for her?" Lysa hisses, rounding on him, her eyes blazing. "Her and her irritant sister. It's because she's pretty, isn't it? Prettier than me, with her golden hair and shapely body—"

Littlefinger takes her face in his hands and brushes his lips, softly against hers. Instantly, she slackens in his embrace and lets out a low moan into his mouth. When he draws away, he keeps a hold of her and looks her, squarely in the eye. "I only have eyes for you," he whispers. "I swear it."

Any indication that she was worried before vanishes. She tips her forehead against his, then turns on her heel and leaves the hall. Littlefinger's smile disappears the moment she's out of sight. He turns his attention back to Rose, who has stopped sparring to catch her breath. Looking up, she catches his eye with a short-winded smile.

"What is it?"

"Come on!"

Sansa gives her hand another tug, dragging her out of the hallway. Together, running and giggling, their skirts lifted over their ankles, they hurry into the courtyard. The cold swims around them, the air biting. But, Rose is left breathless at the view.

Outside, the snow falls in gentle drifts, the ground and trees already blanketed. She feels it against her face and ears. The sky is a clear white, the purest white Rose has ever seen. The sisters take a moment, staring upwards, admiring the clear sign of winter, each of them speechless. Rose feels tears stinging her eyes, half joyful, half filled with a tremendous sadness as she thinks of her father.

When she turns around, Sansa is on her knees in the snow, gathering it up with her gloved hands. Rose chuckles, bending down beside her to help. They spend a good hour forging a replication of Winterfell — the First Keep, the broken tower, the glass gardens, and anything else they can remember. Sansa begins carving out the doors with a small stone, a smile on her face.

A pair of footsteps trudges through the snow behind them. Turning their heads, Rose and Sansa spot their cousin approaching, curiously. "Hello, Robin," Sansa greets.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"We're building our home — Winterfell." Sansa frowns. "At least, I think we are."

Rose grins. "We haven't been back there in a very long time."

Robin crouches down next to them, admiring their work. "Why did you leave?"

"It's a bit of a long story," says Rose, with a laugh.

"I stay here in the Eyrie," Robin sighs. "Mother says it's dangerous on the roads and I have to keep myself safe, because I'm the Lord of the Vale, and the Lord of the Vale is a very important person."

Rose nods. "You are indeed."

"When will you go back?"

"Probably never," Sansa grumbles. Rose turns her head to see her staring at the snow building, pouting. "Our family doesn't live there anymore, and someone burned it down." At the quiver of her chin, Rose's heart breaks a little.

"Oh." Robin looks startled. He leans closer, squinting. "Does Winterfell have a Moon Door?"

Rose sighs, grateful for the change in subject. "No. It's not high up in the mountains, like here," she explains. "It's on the ground."

"That sounds dangerous," Robin explains, making the girls giggle. "How do you make people fly?"

Sansa shrugs. "We don't."

"What do you do with all the bad people, and the scary people, and the people you don't like?" he asks, frowning.

"We never did anything with them at all."

"Girls don't take part in executions," Rose explains. "Not where we come from, anyway."

Robin stares down at the snow building, thinking. "Well, I'm Lord of the Vale. When I grow up, I'll be able to fly anybody who bothers me. Or you, Rose," he cries, excitedly, making her jump at the sound of her name. "When we get married, you can tell me if you don't like somebody and then we can bring them back here, and whoosh!" He gestures, wildly with his arms. "Right through the Moon Door."

Rose lifts an eyebrow. "Sounds rather wonderful," she admits.

Sansa turns her head to grin at her, knowingly. Imagine the look of horror on Cersei's face if she went flying through that door . . . or Tywin's . . . or Walder Frey's . . . or Roose Bolton's—

"Let's put a Moon Door in your Winterfell."

"All right," Rose beams. "Where shall we put it?"

"It can go in here, in this big tower." Robin's stubby finger goes flying towards it.

"Careful—!" Sansa cries. Her face falls when the snow crumbles, collapsing it. She huffs, irritated, and straightens to her feet. "You've ruined it. Now, we're going to have to rebuild the whole thing."

"I didn't ruin it," Robin protests, leaping up.

"You did."

Rose gets up too, brushing the snow from her cloak. "Sansa, it's alright—"

"It was already ruined because it didn't have a Moon Door," Robin shouts. "I was fixing it!"

"Knocking things down isn't fixing them," Sansa snaps. "It's ruining them."

"I didn't ruin it!"

"You're being stupid!"

"I didn't ruin it!" Robin roars.

Before Rose can stop him, he lifts his foot and stamps on the rest of the snow castle, crushing it beneath his boot. He kicks at it, screaming petulantly, like a toddler having a tantrum, until its nothing but crumbled snow. Sansa watches, outraged, then slaps Robin, hard across the face. Rose gasps, staring back and forth between them, speechless.

Robin straightens up, clutching his reddening cheek with tears in his eyes. Bawling loudly, he sprints away from the courtyard, back into the hallway. Sansa looks, frantically to Rose. Then, she sets off after him. "Robin, I'm sorry!" she cries.

Rose listens to the sounds of their retreating footsteps, still startled.

"Children," drawls a voice from behind her.

Spinning around, she sees Littlefinger descending the staircase into the courtyard. "She slapped him," she whispers, unable to resist a laugh.

"Yes," Littlefinger smirks. "I saw."

Rose chuckles again, feeling light-headed. "She probably shouldn't have done that."

"No. His mother should have, a long time ago." He reaches the bottom of the steps and crosses the snow blanket towards her. "Consider it a step in the right direction."

"Aunt Lysa won't be happy," Rose says, with a sigh.

"Let me worry about Aunt Lysa."

Rose chews on her bottom lip, looking down at the ruined snow castle. Her brow furrows as she considers the irony of her broken home, crumbled on the ground at her feet. Suddenly, she's sad, again.

"The last time I was in Winterfell, I was a hostage," she says, quietly. "I was beaten and tormented in my own childhood home, by a man I thought I could trust. In truth, I was relieved when we left. A part of me never wanted to set foot in the castle again, afraid all those horrid memories would come rushing back."

She looks up to see Littlefinger watching her, intently. "Now, every time I close my eyes, I have this picture in my head," she mutters, frowning. "Of my family, what's left of it, back in our home, where we belong. Ruling the North like Father would want us to." She wrings her hands in front of her. "It was Robb's dream first. Now, it's mine."

Littlefinger pauses, then moves closer to her. "People tend to find peace in familiar places." He stops at her side, and she turns to face him. "I keep telling you, my love, you have the power to reclaim your home. You and Sansa, both. Perhaps if we worked together—"

"Why did you kill Joffrey?" Rose asks, plainly. "Tell me the truth."

Littlefinger stares at her, not moving, not answering for a while. She sees the thoughts flashing about in his eyes, wishing that she could read them. "I loved your mother more than you could ever know," he says, softly. "Given the opportunity, what do we do to those who've hurt the ones we love?"

Rose feels the weight of his words against her chest, making her heart thump, unsteadily. A small smile crosses her lips; she can't help it. Littlefinger sees this and seems to take it as a reason to step closer to her, so their faces are aligned.

"In a better world, one where love could overcome strength and duty, you might have been my child," he whispers. "But, we don't live in that world." His fingers curl around the end of her braid, stroking it with the pad of his thumb. "You're more beautiful than she ever was."

Again, she feels her heart racing. "Lord Baelish, I don't—"

"Call me Petyr." His hands go to her face, pulling it towards him.

Before she can stop it, his lips are on hers. At first, it feels wrong. Very wrong. Until, she finds herself sinking into him, his hands sliding around to cradle her neck, hers falling on his shoulders. It isn't the same as the last time they kissed; filled with fire and urgency. This is softer, more comforting and innocent. It makes it easier to pull away.

Firmly, she presses against his shoulders. His lips leave hers, his face disappointed as it draws back. She fixes him with a fierce look. "I will put my trust in you," she says, rasping a little. "I will do what you ask of me. As long as you promise to help my sister and I take our home back."

Littlefinger nods, without hesitation. "My life and loyalty are yours, My Lady," he says, cradling her face in his hands. "From this day, until my last."

A surge of relief floods through Rose's chest. For a split second, she's tempted to lean in and kiss him again. Until she hears a scream from inside.

Her sister's scream.

Without thinking, she lets Littlefinger go and sprints into the hallway. She can hear him calling her name, his footsteps marching after her, but she doesn't stop. The closer she gets to the hall, the more distinctive the voices become — she can hear Lysa shrieking, her voice ringing through the Eyrie, shouting obscenities.

Rose reaches the open doors of the High Hall and lets out a frantic cry. Lysa has her sister by the hair, forcing her to bend over the Moon Door, shaking her, violently. "Look down!" she's screaming. "Look down! Look down! Look down!"

Quickly, Rose whips her dagger out from under her dress, clenching the hilt. I will slit her throat. I could do it. I'll kill her if she dares—

"Lysa!" Littlefinger shouts. Rose didn't hear him reach her side. From across the room, her aunt turns her head, eyes wide and wild. "Let her go," Littlefinger orders, calmly.

She stares back at them, her face contorting. "You want her?" she asks, furious tears filling her eyes. "This empty-headed child? And her whore sister!" she screams, suddenly, her gaze darting to Rose. Sobs begin to rack her body. "I saw you both! I know what you did."

"Let her go," Littlefinger repeats.

"Just like their mother, the both of them," Lysa wails. "They'll never love you. I lied for you! I killed for you!" Tears stream down her cheeks, falling from her chin, onto Sansa. "Why did you bring them here?" she screeches. "Why?"

"I'll send them away," Littlefinger insists, smoothly. "I swear on my life. I swear to all the gods. Let her go, Lysa."

Lysa's grip tightens onto Sansa, who continues to sniffle and whimper. Then, she gives her a sharp push, away from the edge, and Sansa falls to the stone floor.

Rose's legs move forward on their own accord — she races to her sister's side, getting on her knees beside her. Sansa lets out a relieved gasp, clutching onto her, desperately. Rose can feel her trembling as she holds her close to her chest.

Lysa collapses onto the stone edge of the Moon Door, wailing loudly into her hand. Rose stares at her, wondering why she feels no remorse. Wondering why she still has the image in her mind of slitting her throat, right then and there. The picture of her, holding her sister over that door, clouds her judgement. Getting to her feet, she takes a small step towards her, dagger in hand.

Instantly, Littlefinger grabs her wrist, drawing her back. He fixes her with a steely look. Rose stares back at him, teeth gritted, shaking with rage. If you don't kill her, I will, is what she says, with nothing but her eyes. And, she means it. The tears flow quickly down her cheeks, but she can hardly feel their wetness. The inhuman rage bubbling inside strips her of any compassion.

Littlefinger studies her, curiously. A loud sob from Lysa draws him back to the present. With a small sigh, he releases Rose and approaches her.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he coos. He kneels in front of her, taking her in his arms. "My sweet, silly wife." Drawing her close to him, she continues to weep into his shoulder. Slowly, he steadies her to her feet. "I have only loved one woman . . . only one, my entire life," he whispers, gently. "Your sister."

With that, he gives her a short, sharp push. Lysa stumbles backward, her feet slipping on the marble floor, and disappears through the Moon Door with a blood-curdling scream.

A/N: I won't lie, Lysa's death was waaaay too much fun to write! Knowing what Littlefinger is capable of now, do you think Rose's approach to him will change? How will she cope with the hearing in the next episode?

Quick note: Sansa is one of my favourite characters in the series, and she goes through such an enormous growth around this time. I don't want to take too many of her important moments away from her just to make Rose seem like a more badass/powerful character. Sansa's growing up quick, and it's important that that comes across, just as much as Rose's development.