Petyr's sleek grey Aston Martin rolled to a stop just out of sight of the large vacation home the Bolton's called their cabin. Darkness surrounded his vehicle like a cloak with viridescent trees that rustled with the movement of a light breeze; fog loomed. Its thick cloud dotting the cold metal with little water droplets that had gathered in the atmosphere. The crescent moon shone through brightly illuminating the mist turning it to a wall of white that would soon engulf the so-called cabin and all nearby, everything behind the garish wooden monstrosity had turned colourless as though the universe just came to an abrupt half and stretched on in nothing but vast emptiness.

Indescribable rage still surged through his body, veins filled with more anger than blood but Petyr couldn't let himself focus on that one emotion forever, he had to save his girl. No one would see the car hidden away amongst the trees and hopefully it would give Baelish enough time to surprise them. Diving out the car Petyr stripped off his grey suit jacket as though it were on fire and tossed it into the back seat quickly - no longer did he care about the eight-hundred dollars it had cost him - before rolling up his black sleeves revealing half his tattoos. Normally he remained perfectly stoic and unreadable but all he wanted to do was hurt and kill, he practically vibrated with intense fury; given the opportunity what did he do those who'd hurt the ones he loved?

Petyr forced himself to take a deep breath and fill his lungs with much needed cold air, it helped to cool some of the fire inside him but it came nowhere close to extinguishing it. He grabbed his black duffel bag it didn't take long to put on his ebony colored leather holster and slip his Colt Gold Cup into the light brown leather. He liked guns, when someone was shot it wasn't like a knife through butter, no, it twisted and turned, ripping into the soft gooey bit behind the flesh; destroying the muscles, tissue and organs.

He scouted the house quick and from a distance but very carefully. At first he thought it was the thickness of the fog but it soon became clear Ramsay hadn't let his dogs out to guard the area, oh this is a trap. Petyr wasn't stupid he knew that but it wouldn't stop him getting Sansa back. No one stole from Petyr Baelish, especially not his girl. Ramsay was expecting him, so Petyr had to do something unexpected, even if to the outside world his actions appeared stupid; no one expected Littlefinger to be stupid. Eventually the dark-haired man had looped the whole house and was back at the garage door, a camera hung high looking over the doorway before rotating a little down the driveway, from his place in the fog coated tree line it was easy to use the blindspot. He only had a few seconds to pick the lock before the camera rolled back round but that was all he needed, there wasn't a set of tumblers in all of Westorose that could stop him, the door opened with a satisfying click and Petyr didn't waste a moment stepping inside. The front door would have been to obvious and he was too fucking old to go climbing in windows like a teenage boy so the garage door it was. Two large cars filled the grey room that looked more like an underground storage bunker than a garage, closest the door was a two door BMW coupé in midnight blue; clearly belonging to Ramsay thanks to the large keychain hanging from the rear-view mirror in the shape of a snarling dog. The second car had been parked directly to the BMW's left, a charcoal Jaguar sedan that could have only belonged to Roose Bolton; they are both here then. Petyr ignored the cars though in favour of finding a place to stash his bag, it would be easier to move around without it.

Quickly the Cleaner spotted a large metal shelf stacked high with every piece of crap one could imagine for their cars as well as the more useful like oil, wax and de-icer. Petyr pushed his bag under the large stand alone shelving while listening to the house, silence. This is far too easy, I know he wants me here but I didn't think he'd make it this easy. He tried not to think about the horror Ramsay was forcing his darling Sansa through because if he did anger would cloud his judgement. The dark-haired man stood and went over to the large oak door that lead to the main house to the right of the shelving, he pushed it open with ease only to find the house lit up but silent, almost dead. The so-called cabin was huge and a little under decorated save for the mass of mounted heads on the walls, a chandelier made of antlers that quite frankly was disturbing hung down in the centre of the large main room over two black armchairs and a large matching couch. To the far right was the dining room that led to the kitchen decorated with yet more mounted heads, but Petyr cared little for the Bolton's décor, he had Sansa to find.

Ramsay would have either had her chained up in the basement or tied to his bed upstairs, the only reason he headed to the basement first was because it was closer and easier to torture her in. A small door hidden away behind the winding staircase was smaller than the rest, like it didn't want to be noticed, Petyr reached for it turning then doorknob silently. It turned without incident and Petyr slipped inside taking each step one by one, pressing his weight down carefully to avoid squeaks or creaks. He half expected hands to fly out from behind the stairs and trip him. The room had little to no light save for a small lightbulb at the very bottom of the almost endless staircase, at first he thought the place was empty but reaching the bottom told him otherwise. Illuminated ever so slightly by the bulb's orange glow was Sansa, wrists chained high above her head bleeding and bruised.

"Oh Gods Sweetling."

Sansa's back was bleeding from the Flogger and her hair was everywhere almost as though she'd been in a hurricane, the word whore had been scrawled over her naked chest in crimson blood; her own or someone elses he didn't know. She'd half collapsed leaving her blood splattered feet lazily on the floor supporting no weight what so ever. Her whole body had been held up for hours by nothing but her wrists and heavy black-grey chains, just when Baelish though he couldn't get any more rage into his body there was a surge and he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.

"Sansa?" He said quiet enough that only she would head. A hand came up to cup her pale cheek.

Tired blue eyes managed to open and lock onto the man before her, for a second she thought she was dreaming or hallucinating but no, this really was Petyr.

"Master?"

Petyr grinned.

"Yes, Sweetling. It's me, it's Petyr."

He couldn't help it he just had to kiss her, his other hand came up to cup the other cheek and he pressed their lips together for a quick kiss. Sansa winced in pain when Petyr dropped his hands and pulled her up to stand on her feet, Ramsay's death isn't going to be as easy as Joffrey's, no poison, I want to see blood and hear screams! Looking up to the shackles grass colored eyes found that each one had two locks rather than the standard one and there was no way he could just break the chain keeping her attached to the ceiling, he had no choice but to pick them. Baelish reached into his back pocket for his lock picks.

"Master go." She mumbled through the pain. "Leave me and go. Please."

Petyr froze in shock, eyes locked on her half-conscious face.

"What? No, of course I won't. I'm taking you home." He told her determinedly.

"Please, you have to." She was crying now, she'd only ever cry for him. "He's going to kill you. Please just go." She begged.

Petyr could hardly breath, there was no way he'd just leave her, he wouldn't, he couldn't.

"I won't leave you." He argued forcefully reaching for the first lock and setting to work.

Tears poured down Sansa's cheek, her eyes grew red and started to sting, lips dehydrated bringing back her headache. She couldn't watch him die.

"He'll... kill you." Sansa stuttered out with her sobs. "You gave me a year. A year... I never thought I'd have." Petyr came to a dead halt, hands frozen in their movement and looked down to his angelic girl, green-grey met blue. Why was it the worst situation imaginable that let him see those beautiful eyes again? She continued. "A year where I was happy, you made me happy. Do it again and go." Her words were but a whisper.

"I said no!" He shouted completely forgetting Ramsay and Roose were somewhere in the house.

"Please-"

"No!" There were whisper shouting now.

"Please-" He cut her off again.

"No, I won't leave you!"

"Why!? Why won't you just go and save y-"

"Because I love you!"

Everything went silent with that confession, he'd felt it for so long and yet there in that dark basement was the first time he said it. As a teen Petyr had thought he loved Cat but that was a childish crush compared to what he felt for Sansa, he'd do anything for her; except leave her there. Sansa's tears drip, drip, dripped down onto the cold floor and her heart surged.

"I love you too... that's... that's why you have to go." She sobbed "Take care of Tristan and Lady."

"How touching." Said a new voice, deep and sarcastically.

Petyr swung around arms falling to his sides, it took everything Petyr had not to launch at Ramsay and rip his throat out with his own teeth. Two large Rottweiler flanked him snarling viciously, a shorter man stood behind him on the stairs.

"So she is a Stark. Wonderful. Don't worry I'll make her forget that."

Petyr pulled his Colt Gold Cup in less time than it took to process the fact he'd moved. He desperately wanted to shoot Ramsay but he knew the second he did the two Rottweilers would attack. If they'd been raised by another the animals probably would have been friendly and loved but instead they got Ramsay, they'd been tortured just as Sansa had.

"Bastard."

"Words hurt Baelish." Ramsay grinned. "And you fire that gun my dogs eat you, they haven't been fed for days, but you've figured that out already." Petyr stared at him down the still raised gun. "I'm going to play a game with you Baelish, you love games. You get ten minutes head start and then I'm letting my dog loose on a search and destroy mission."

Petyr's moss colored orbs flicked to the dogs then Sansa and finally back to Ramsay who just stood there with a look of complete abhorrence on his sharp features.

"Many men have tried to kill me, and those many men are dead."

"Confident, I like it. But as I said, ten minutes, well, nine and a half now."

The man with grey at his temples again looked to his darling girl.

"I'll come back."

With that he was gone charging past Reek almost knocking him to the ground. Petyr would play Ramsay's little game if only to buy himself some time to take Ramsay by surprise. Ramsay stood watching the basement door for a few moments before turning to Sansa.

"He's right, he'll be back but he'll be dead." The words cut like a knife through her heart. "Reek, stay here and watch the bitch."

Bolton the younger stared at his watch for a full ten minutes, grin growing larger with each second that passed while Sansa's heart grew heavier as thoughts of the man she loved lying dead before her filled her mind.

He giggled when ten minutes were up and with a whistle the dogs were released.

XXXX

This wasn't how Petyr imagined himself dying, eaten by hungry dogs, really, it had never occurred to him. He could hear them coming, barking, following his scent through the trees that surrounded the cabin, Petyr's heart raced and his lungs begged him to stop but he'd never give up, he had promised to protect Sansa, to go back for her and he would. Remembering the small creek he's spotted when he'd circled the house Petyr raced towards it in hope of loosing the Rottweilers or at least slowing them down and confusing them. Baelish ran zig-zags through the small creek trailing his scent this way and that going back on himself as best he could to disorientate the Rottweilers before pulling a skedaddle off into the thicker woods. He knew he couldn't risk running straight across the clearing, it was far too open, no he had to go around, Ramsay knew Petyr would loop back but he enjoy the chase more than the inevitable kill.

Feet stomped down crushing leaves and snapping branches with eerie tones, soil stuck to his Italian leather shoes scratching and staining, never again would they be wearable; not that Petyr cared. An owl hooted not far away while small creatures scurried in the distance, the moon in the sky silver and powerful as though a celestial watcher surrounded by tiny stars glinting in the night, it would have been beautiful under different circumstances. Petyr's heart bounce around his chest as he pushed himself to run faster through the dense dark forest, up tiny hills not more than mounds covered over with leaves in shades of pale green, orange and yellow. He hadn't run this much since track in high school.

When the forest thinned to almost nothingness Petyr had no choice but to break into the clearing and bolt for the house, he could still hear the vicious animals but they were a distance off now, seemed his confusion tactic had worked giving him a few minutes extra to work with. Petyr made it back to the garage door and through past the parked cars, by now he'd realised Ramsay had probably killed Roose or done something equally terrible, otherwise he'd have seen the CSO. If Roose was gone then there was officially no one left to control Ramsay, the full extent of his evil was free.

Petyr rushed down the basement stairs so fast he nearly slipped and fell to the bottom but he managed to recover and found himself face to face with the scared little slave he'd caught a glimpse of earlier. Sansa's eyes lit up at the sight of him alive and unhurt but Reek's grew wide with fear. Petyr pulled his gun aiming it at the proverbial deer in headlights perfectly prepared to shoot dead the messy haired man.

"Please don't. Please." He squeaked.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"Reek." He whispered looking down to the floor.

"Oh no, real name." Petyr wasn't taking anymore of Ramsay's crap.

It had been so long since anyone had asked him that, to be honest he was beginning to forget he'd once been from a good family and possessed freedom.

"Theon." He finally answered and Baelish's left eyebrow rose up his forehead in question.

"As in Greyjoy? The heir to Iron Isle Shipping?"

His hair had grown out in the two years he'd been missing, his skin was paler and he'd thinned out letting his clothes hang off his thin frame; rags was a better description. Reek, or Theon, stared in amazement as the dark-haired stranger with grey at his temples lowered his weapon and slid it back into its dark brown leather holster. He just went back to picking the mass of locks on Sansa's cuffs, Theon didn't know whether he should have run or screamed but in the end the younger man just decided to remain perfectly still and not say a word.

"If you want to live I suggest you do as I say." Petyr said flatly without looking up. "Where did all the blood come from? It's not Sansa's."

For a second Theon stood there on the edge of remaining or running away before managing to return autonomy to himself and pointing over to the corner behind him.

"...Mister Bolton. Mas-" No, Theon wouldn't be Reek any longer, this stranger, this Petyr Baelish, would be his salvation. Ramsay wouldn't be a Master anymore. "Ramsay killed him."

Petyr glanced up only for a moment before unlocking the last of the cuff locks, she collapsed onto him nearly knocking them both to the ground. There was so much care and devotion for the redhead all wrapped up in stormy eyes, his body seemed calm but he couldn't hide his tense shoulders. Something told Theon that this man was far more dangerous than Ramsay ever could be, and that both scared and reassured him; scared because after what Ramsay had done the idea of someone worse made him feel faint and reassured because Baelish actually stood a chance of surviving the night.

"Drag Bolton's body over here." Littlefinger ordered.

Theon didn't know what the other man was planning and he didn't question it.