Sansa drifted along the halls of Harrenhal past large doors each with a different name card. Darkness dominated the halls, not a single candle and very little moonlight, just enough to provide a basic image of the vast expanse before her. There wasn't any noise either, not a bird, not someone snoring loudly in a room somewhere, not even her footfalls; maybe that should have concerned her. Sansa didn't remember getting out of bed and didn't even know why she'd started wandering the halls but somehow her body seemed to know exactly where she was going even if the mind didn't.

She passed a room with no name sign on her left and tilted her head to the side as she thought about it. Every other room she'd passed by had a name on it but this one sat eerily silent and the redhead didn't know why. She felt a want to investigate but somehow that wasn't what she was looking for. Sansa had no idea what drew her near but she got the feeling she'd know it when she saw it.

The redhead turned to her right then and noticed a set of marble stairs tucked away in a corner. They weren't as grand or as prominent as the ones in the main hall, designed to blend it would have been a better description; not hidden but still went unnoticed. That was where she was meant to go, her heart said so.

Carefully she approached them as if pulled by some other worldly force. The marble chilled her bare feet as she headed up the steps but Sansa paid the cold no mind. her night-dress flowed around her legs because of a gentle wind she couldn't locate. Despite not knowing what was happening or even remembering how she got out of bed, Sansa wasn't afraid and continued up. The young woman felt as though she needed whatever was at the top of the stairs, it surged her forward.

Eventually a large door made of black wood came into view, detailed with intricate carvings, this wasn't any old door, something important was behind it. What she'd been looking for must have been behind it! Sansa rested her hand atop the door handle-

"Not quite yet, Sweetling."

Before Sansa could flick around in search of the deep voice something yanked her back and she surged backwards away from the door, down the stairs and down the hall towards her bedroom as if she were in water. She opened her mouth to scream and then it all turned black.

When Sansa opened her cerulean orbs she sat bolt upright in her bed with no idea where she was for a moment, then it all returned, Harrenhal. Sansa was on Mockingbird Island at Harrenhal, a guest of the mysterious Lord Baelish. She let herself fall back into the stack of soft pillows and happily cuddled into her big bed, it had just been a strange dream. Suddenly a spark of agony surged through her chest and had Sansa hunched over in seconds as the pain shot through her, but then just as quickly as it had all started the pain died and left Sansa feeling as well as she ever had.

"That was strange." She said to herself.

Sansa wondered what her dream had been about, she'd never dreamt anything like that. Well, that wasn't exactly true, Sansa had often had dreams about searching for something but never known what it was she'd been looking for. Could have been her purpose in life could have been a dragon. They'd never been so vivid though. It had all just been a dream though, right? Still, it had been so real … and who was the voice supposed to have belonged to? Everything about her dream, the voice, seemed so unusual and yet so familiar all at the same time.

The redhead couldn't dwell on it, she couldn't just sit in a state of bewilderment over a dream – a figment of her imagination – especially when she needed to get into a corset by herself.

Outside it was daylight so Sansa suspected that her fellow guests would be rising for the day soon if not already. She didn't know what to expect but Sansa had grown up with Arya so she was fully prepared to withstand more or less anything when it came to embarrassment. The young Lady Stark slipped out of her warm bed and selected a dress from her luggage, a pale lilac one that would be fairly easy for her to get into on her own. She lay everything out on her bed neatly before she glanced up at the clock above her fireplace, almost eight; yes, her fellow guests would most certainly have started to rise.

Sansa jumped when a knock at the door echoed around her rooms, everything had been so calm and quiet that even that gentle knock sounded like a roar. She laughed at herself as she headed through to the main living area and called out for who was at the door.

"My name is Armeca." An accented, female voice called back. "I was sent to help you dress, Lady Stark."

Sansa raised an eyebrow, seemed not being allowed any servants didn't mean a lady's maid wouldn't be provided. Would have been nice for the invitation to have said that. Sansa crossed the room and let the olive-skinned maid into her rooms, Armeca smiled up at the redhead and closed the door behind herself.

"Thank you, milady. Lord Baelish would never be so cruel as to force a lady to dress herself, he understands it can be difficult."

Sansa couldn't even begin to describe how grateful she was to have Armeca there, her life had just gotten so much easier. With Armeca's aid it hardly took any time at all for Sansa to slip into her dress and get her hair combed and braided.

"Armeca, do you know why Lord Baelish invited me here to Harrenhal?" She asked while the maid finished putting pearl headed pins into her hair.

"I have no idea, milady. I'm a lady's maid, so I'm not privy to such information. If anyone knows the reason for why these specific guests were chosen it would be one of three people; his valet, Olyvar, Lothor Brune, the head of the house guard or Lord Baelish's assistant, Ros."

Sansa found herself sat there with a raised eyebrow, quite frankly she was surprised Lord Baelish needed a house guard, this wasn't King's Landing. However, when she thought about it, really thought, the redhead realized this was a castle filled with people all on different sides of whatever political and personal wars they were fighting. She concluded a house guard was probably a good idea. Another thing to surprise her was Ros, a female. Most lords she'd met all had male clerks or a squire to do their bidding.

"Olyvar, Lothor and Ros are closest to milord."

"A female assistant." Sansa mused aloud without meaning to.

"Yes, Lord Baelish is also very progressive, he believes women can be far more devious than men and are often capable of getting far more done."

Everything Armeca told her only worked to make Sansa more curious and intrigued by the as unmet Petyr Baelish. Oh she hoped he lived up to the image she'd built in her mind of a well calculated and wise person.

Once Sansa was dressed and Armeca had finished with her hair she was informed that breakfast would be served shortly, with that Armeca took her chamber pot and bid Lady Stark a good day. Alone again Sansa found herself happy for the morning conversation and help with her dress. She headed out onto the stone balcony to look out over the rest of the castle and at the courtyard below. In the daylight she could see trees and paths with perfect clarity and the sound of the ocean reminded her of her journey from Winterfell Hall. The sound of ocean waves hitting rocks in the not too far distance had her smiling, as did the mildly salty air; she'd gotten there by herself, her own adventure. The air here smelt refreshing and different.

Sansa remained there a short time as she gathered her courage to make her way downstairs. She didn't know the other guests and she hadn't met Lord Baelish either. Still, Margaery, Oberyn and Tyrion had been nice enough the previous night, especially Tyrion, he wasn't even remotely like Cersei. If she'd made friends in the three of them then maybe she'd make them in the others; hopefully.

Whatever point proving punishment her parents intended to subject her to upon her return to The North Sansa felt it would all be worth it. This shred of independence had been so good for her soul already. After her trip to King's Landing with her family she'd almost been put off travel, Joffrey had been a spiteful child while Queen Cersei had left Sansa in a constant state being uncomfortable. She'd longed for just one friend at the capital but it hadn't happened. There had been a ball shortly before they'd returned home though where she'd found a man staring at her from across the ballroom, regrettably it had been a costume ball so she'd never seen who was behind the silver mask, but that man who'd never spoken to her, approached her or revealed his face to her had been the only thing to grant her any comfort despite Sansa not having known why. The redhead couldn't continue to dwell on the passed though and it wasn't right to constantly compare her trip to King's Landing with this one to Mockingbird Island, they were two entirely different places and Sansa wouldn't let the disappointments of one infect the other.

Sansa remained there a few moments more then took a deep, calming breath before she left her rooms and headed for the stairs she'd ascended the night before. Every wall was adored with paintings or that rich, dark purple color, the flooring was grand but never too much and all the corners she came across had something to fill them whether it was just a vase of flowers on a pedestal or an ornate seating area. As she passed by one of the pedestals the wondrous fragrance of roses reached her; for a haunted castle damaged by war and fire the inside really was welcoming and splendid.

Seeing the grand marble staircase made Sansa realize it was even more immense and imposing during the day. Whoever had designed Harrenhal hadn't wanted a single inch of the place to go unnoticed and it most certainly did not. The outside loomed fiercely while the inside had been draped with finery. Sansa nearly slipped off a step when Margaery appeared from seemingly nowhere, grabbed her and looped their arms together as if they'd known one another since childhood's hour. The elder woman grinned at her boldly, genuinely happy to see the redhead, maybe Sansa really had made friends here.

"I love your dress, Sansa." While a nice complement Sansa honestly didn't think her lilac gown was anything compared to Margaery's own what with all its golden accents and flowing beauty. "Did you sleep well? No ghost come to hassle you, I hope." She teased.

Sansa shook her head as they passed by the fireplace they'd met at the previous night.

"I slept very well, thank you, though I did have an odd dream."

"I often have strange dreams after a long voyage." Lady Tyrell admitted but didn't seem too bothered. "You should try earl grey tea, not a clue why but it always helps me."

"Thank you, I'll have to try that."

The pair made their way through an open doorway off to the far left of the grand fireplace only to spot a servant stood at it stoically. The man nodded politely and bid them a good morning.

"Breakfast is soon to be served for Lord Baelish's guests in the formal dining room at the end of the hall, my ladies."

"Thank you." Said Sansa before she and her new friend continued.

Her blue eyes kept flashing up to the vast paintings which lined the hall as they headed to a door which obviously led to the dining room. When the redhead paused a moment at one painting Margaery peered from the younger woman to the painting and back.

"They are lovely, aren't they. Lord Baelish really does have quite the collection here." How did she manage to sound interested and disinterested all at the same time?

"It's rather impressive, that's for sure." Replied the redhead.

"You think this is then you should see his gallery, it's quite – what's the word – formidable. Yes, formidable seems right, or perhaps sublime. The one you're looking at stopped me in my tracks my first time here as well." She confessed as they stood craning their necks up at the artwork. No doubt if Sansa and the painting were to stand side by side it would be twice her height. "There's an old legend about it, it's called 'The Soulmate' painted by Kova Bragian. You have no idea how old it is or how priceless."

Sansa looked to her new friend. "What is the legend?"

Margaery thought for a moment. "Well, the way Prince Oberyn told it was that long ago a man killed a woman's husband out of spite, so he could force her to marry him and gain status. The woman though was a witch, a woman of magic trained by the Old Gods, and in retaliation she cursed him. She broke his soul in two and forced him to wander the realm in search of its other half so that he'd know the agony she'd suffered through after the loss of her husband. So he'd know what it was like to be missing part of himself."

"That's a very sad story." Sansa told Margaery quietly.

"They say time heals all wounds, Sansa, but I don't believe there would ever be any healing for the loss of one's true love. That's if something like that actually existed of course. No, I think that the idea of soulmates is rather sad and cruel since so many young women are married off for the sake of connections and alliances."

Clearly the whole concept made her feel cheated out of something, her chance for happiness maybe.

"You don't love Lord Renly?" Asked the younger girl cautiously.

Margaery flashed her those big eyes and one of her bold smiles. "Oh my dear girl, marriage is a business transaction, nothing more, just another part of the game. Marrying for love is best left to the authors and painters like Kova Bragian."

She carried on towards the dining room then but Sansa remained behind a moment to stare up at the painting. It really was quite striking, a man with white hair being killed by his own loneliness all from the inside. The most painful part though, the bit that showed he wasn't just an ill man but a broken one were the eyes, so perfectly detailed with sorrow, those brown orbs held no joy or hope, just misery; those eyes were flat and dead. She didn't wish to think true love didn't exist, her parents were a clear argument for it did, there wasn't anything her father wouldn't do for her mother.

"Sansa." Margaery called out from the dining room door and Sansa hurried to meet her so they could enter together.

Happy to think of a different subject, any other subject, the two women stepped into the dining room together. The large room was roughly 'Y' shaped with an absolutely massive set of folding doors wide open to let in the warm air, however they were at the top of a mountain looking island so they could see all the way down to the watery depths below. That clear reminder of death didn't bother young Sansa though, she had decided already that Harrenhal was stunningly beautiful; had so much going on without it being overpowering. At the very centre of the purple room stood a large table ornately carved and set for breakfast but she didn't pay much attention to it since the guests had all gathered around it waiting to be fed. Some flicked back and forth while others had settled into deeper conversations. She only recognized Tyrion from the other night, everyone else remained a stranger to her and most of them were men. Though they may have been chatting away it was obvious to even one such as Sansa Stark the reservations a lot of them had.

She approached the table and instantly spotted a scrawny man with scruffy auburn hair, she grinned when he looked up and their eyes met. Theon! Clearly both were amazed to see one another, they'd hardly heard a word from him since he'd returned home to The Iron Islands. Quickly Theon shot up from his seat and pulled a chair out so Sansa could sit between himself and Margaery.

"Thank you, Theon." He returned to his chair. "It's been quite some time, Robb misses you."

"He does? I really should write more." He told her timidly.

Theon had spent so much time at Winterfell Hall with Robb and Sansa's cousin, Jon, that he'd practically lived there. In reality he had for a time, not a wonderful father.

Suddenly he nudged a woman with similar features beside him to gain her attention, when she turned she raised an eyebrow at Sansa as if sizing her up.

"This is my sister, Yara Greyjoy. Yara, this is the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark."

While conversation with Yara remained polite it wasn't lost on Sansa that she didn't much care for all the pretty dresses and over the top niceties of noble life. The woman had showed up to breakfast in leather breeches and a dark gray coat after all, in fact the most decorative part of her whole outfit was the Kraken pin – which matched her brother's perfectly – on her left breast.

Everyone chatted a short time until breakfast was served by an whole team of servants and they all tucked in happily. As she ate Sansa couldn't help but notice the empty place at the head of the table and wondered where Lord Baelish had gotten to, the vacant chair beside his also had her questioning why Prince Oberyn hadn't come to breakfast.

Margaery set her cutlery down a moment or so later and let out a little self-deprecating noise which seemed mightily uncharacteristic of Lady Tyrell.

"Where are my manners, Sansa, I simply must introduce you to everyone. It's only right." She gestured to Yara and Theon. "No need to introduce you to the Greyjoys since you already know them and you've met Lord Tyrion. Next to me is Lord Varys-"

"Oh, I'm fully aware of who Lady Stark is, we were at many of the same events while in King's Landing though I doubt you ever noticed me."

Varys flashed her a kind smile and Sansa took an instant liking to the bald man, she'd heard his name before but wouldn't have been able to pick him out of a crowd at all. They said that if there was a secret in the capital the Varys would know about it; what sort of mysteries did he have locked away inside his head.

"If introductions are to be made," began a woman with vibrant red hair and a blood-colored dress, "I am Melisandre."

A Red Priestess, Sansa hadn't ever seen one of those before. Blue eyes noticed her friend tense with irritation but no one said anything in regards to it.

Lastly to be introduced was a large man with dark skin who looked very friendly right up until he wasn't. He wore a foreign garb in light colors with a round, bejewelled necklace; in truth Sansa found it garish.

Margaery leant forwards a little as her brow furrowed. "I actually don't know who you are, I'm afraid."

From the way his eye twitched he was obviously irked by not being recognized, not that Margaery seemed to care in the slightest.

He cleared his throat and spoke in a deep tone. "Xaro Xhoan Daxos is my name, I am a member of The Thirteen in Essos."

Beyond Essos Sansa had no idea what the black man had been talking about, still, if he had been invited across the Narrow Sea to Harrenhal he had to be someone of importance.

Everyone returned to eating then while Xaro conversed with Varys and Lord Tyrion at the other end of the table, something about the Targaryens. Meanwhile Sansa just had to ask where Lord Baelish was, not meeting his guests the previous night made perfect sense, it had been such a late hour, but this was breakfast where clearly a place had been set for him. Instead of Margaery answering her as she'd expected the sound of Prince Oberyn's accented voice came from behind her as he rounded the table and sat in his vacant seat.

"Petyr rarely eats breakfast and has found himself busy."

The tone of Oberyn's voice suggested he knew far more than he let on. He tucked into his food without another word and Margaery leant closer to talk just amongst themselves.

"Fucking him." She whispered.

Sansa needed to move that particular conversation onwards and so asked the guests why they had all accepted the invitation and come to Harrenhal. Most of the guests seemed surprised by her question as if they'd expected her to already know but when she showed no signs of comprehension Lord Varys took pity on her and elected to explain for her.

"While we may not be the blatant choices for powerful men and women in the world, my dear girl, we do run things from the shadows." He gestured to everyone around the table. "We are a collective of people who – when properly motivated – can sway the world's leaders and rebels to do as we wish for the sake of the realm. Robert Baratheon, Ned Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, Stannis Baratheon, Doran Martell, they are all powerful people in the view of all. We are those who keep the powerful running, my Lady, the people who truly drive change." He paused hardly a second. "You see, change cannot be screamed into existence, it must be whispered."

That may have all been well and good but Sansa wasn't one of these people, maybe Robb or Jon, hell, even Arya but not Sansa. She was just a quiet girl no one had ever really expected much from. Then the penny dropped, Sansa would be announced formally as betrothed to Prince Joffrey soon enough no matter her wishes – Margaery had been right, just a business agreement – and she'd be queen one day. This was the reason Lord Baelish had sent her an invitation, Sansa was useless to him now but soon she'd be sat at Joffrey's side to whisper ideas and plots to; not that she thought he'd ever listen to a word she said. Strangely just knowing why she was there made her feel so much better.

Tyrion's voice knocked her out of her thoughts then. "The conclave will not happen until the next afternoon, Lady Sansa. Today is about us getting settled and rested after such long journeys. Relax and have some wine."

Many of the table's occupants rolled their eyes, 'have some wine' was Tyrion's answer to so many things.

Yara snorted, a very unladylike noise. "Drinking all of Baelish's wine, huh, little lion. Where do you put it?"

That got a laugh out of some and they all returned to eating their breakfast. In fact breakfast carried on much like that for some time. Slowly Sansa started to become comfortable around them all though she thought it best to remain on guard; especially around Xaro, something wasn't quite right about him. The redhead decided she liked most of these people, this very odd little group of people, most of all Margaery and seeing Theon again had been a treat.