When their breakfast had finally come to an end and the guests of Harrenhal filed out to vanish until noon, Petyr cornered the teenager and quickly asked for her to join him in the library. Sansa didn't hesitate, this was her chance for answers, for something to finally make some damn sense.

Neither said a word as they entered the library, a large room similar to the gallery though instead of sculptures and paintings this room was, of course, filled with bookshelves. She actually had to gasp at the sight of so many tomes, there had to be thousands of them. Each and every wall was either bookshelf or window save for the grand doors and a fireplace which – just like every other one she'd seen – roared away quite happily as if lit by the Lord of Light himself. It matched the fireplace she'd seen in the gallery right down to the odd statue of a wolf and mockingbird atop it. Unlike the gallery – and despite the large windows – the library remained rather dark and a little cavernous like, someone wanted to keep it hidden away.

"Your library is beautiful, Lord Baelish."

"Thank you for your awe, Sansa." So he's dropping my title now as well, is he. "Most people don't appreciate the library. Of course you are more than welcome to borrow a book if you'd like." She'd just been about to thank him for his offer like etiquette had taught her when the older man gestured to her dress and spoke once more. "Do you like the dress?"

Like it? Sansa adored it. "The gown is wonderful, my Lord, though you need not go to such trouble on my account. I didn't realize today was to be war."

Petyr's devilish smirk reappeared then, an expression which most would have distrusted and frankly Sansa wanted to do the same but she couldn't bring herself to, Sansa still felt much too comfortable around this deceptive man.

"Everything is war, sweetling, just with different levels of public notoriety."

She understood his point, couldn't argue with it. Sansa had been kept away from things during her trip to the Red Keep but even then she'd realized hostilities never subsided.

"Are you going to explain as you said you would last night?"

The man with ash at his temples went silent for a time. It was an expression she'd not seen from the older man before, he always seemed so in control of himself both mentally and physically but emotion was at play here and he actually looked troubled for a few seconds before it got hidden away behind his mask once more.

"It's a little too soon, Sansa. You need to know, I agree, though not quite yet."

Annoyance flooded Sansa's body and rightly so, she'd been dunked into this strange new world and needed answers. The girl stepped forwards with an urgent look on her face.

"You promised." Sansa insisted. "You said that my dreams were anything but, how could they be? How did I know your voice before I even laid eyes on you?"

Petyr sighed and rested his large, warm hands atop her shoulders. "I know and I will explain, I just do not wish to overburden you with the conclave happening today."

Sansa shook her head. "All you are doing is causing me to worry more."

He nodded, he'd seen that even though he'd not intended it. "I am sorry."

"Please tell me. I am scared, Lord Baelish, I have no idea what is truly happening. How am I to take part in this conclave, this war as you keep calling it, when all I can think of is you and the knowledge you're keeping from me?"

Petyr gestured to the purple settee then for Sansa to sit and thankfully she did so without argument or hesitation. He adored the way the light shined upon her skin, made her look ethereal. The Lord of Harrenhal sat beside her, his back straight as he paused once more, he took a breath then met Sansa's eyes firmly. He didn't like it but he was going to have to tell her.

"Have you ever known what you've searched for in your dreams?" Sansa shook her head, she'd never known, always wondered but never known. "Any idea what you may have been looking for at all?" Another shake. "Well, I do. They are not dreams, Sansa, not really, though your subconscious does control them. It is more like a wandering soul."

"Soul?!" Sansa's eyebrows shot up filled with confusion.

Petyr had no desire to tell Sansa this tale, at least not now, he'd wanted to wait until after the conclave and maybe discuss it over dinner with candles and a wave of romance. However, Baelish knew Sansa was a stubborn girl when she wanted to be, he really should have seen this coming. Possibly his problem had been the two decades he'd spent thinking about this moment, he'd allowed himself to romanticize it in his head.

Sansa just continued to stare at the lord and clearly he must have realized it because suddenly he stood again and went to the fireplace.

"Come." He said but Sansa had no idea where.

There was only one door in and out of the library, or at least she thought there was. To indulge him and because she was determined to get her answers, Sansa rose to her feet and joined him at the fireplace where her eyes regarded the wolf and mockingbird sculpture which sat there like it's twin in the gallery. Then, surprisingly, he tipped it backwards to reveal another combination lock, Petyr's thumb spun the numbers around until a small click sounded. A hand was proffered to Sansa as he shone that dangerous smile at her, Sansa didn't even hesitate, something she didn't understand drove her on.

She gasped when the fire spun around but let Lord Baelish lead her inside yet another of his secret rooms. The room was undecorated, just exposed stone walls but it was also larger than she'd expected, Sansa truly hadn't realized there was so much room between the gallery and library walls. Blue eyes spotted a second fireplace on the opposite side of the room and quickly reached the conclusion it must have led to the gallery. There was also a strange, but large, rectangle over on the north wall; is that some other passage to the ballroom? That was something for Sansa to think about later. What really had the teenager's attention were the tables arranged in a circle all topped with things from books to ancient looking artefacts. A large chandelier hung down in the centre to brightly light the hidden room. Sansa could remember speaking to Prince Oberyn while she'd wondered what was on the other side of the fireplace and now that she saw it Sansa didn't quite know what to make of it all.

"What is this room, Lord Baelish?" Enquired the Stark girl.

He shrugged a little as he stepped further into the room. "Over the centuries I have collected things of interest or importance to me."

Sansa paled and ceased following him around the room to view the odd objects inside the hidden chamber.

"Centuries!?"

Lord Baelish nodded and went to a glass case in the corner of the room fully aware that Sansa would follow him without hesitation. There she saw the glass box to be filled with old letters and older books, medals and knives, she even saw a scrap of fabric stained with something of a reddish brown color; is that blood?

Green eyes met puzzled cerulean ones. "You must have suspected something was different about me." Sansa remained quiet though he knew she had. "Any guesses as to what that is, Sweetling? How do I know things I shouldn't. How I know the details of things you believed to be a private dream. The very fact that I am in them, conversing with you. You thought about it, Sansa, undoubtedly in great depth, have gone through each and every logical theory you could but when that didn't provide satisfactory answers you moved to less logical ones even if you told yourself you hadn't. Maybe you don't even realize you had." Petyr's voice hushed as he leaned in close, turned to a whisper laced with a sultry lilt. "Go on, Lady Sansa, what am I?"

Sansa stood quiet and swallowed. He knew of her dreams, had walked inside them, Petyr had seemingly heard some of her thoughts or at least interpreted them, and now he spoke of centuries of life rather than decades. Sansa had laid in bed wondering as to what could explain the strange Lord of Harrenhal and logical answers had escaped her quickly. She knew the conclusion she'd reached but the redhead didn't wish to say it aloud because then it would be real.

Baelish waited, had no intention to rush her and instead watched her with those calculating green eyes of his; a level of patience few people ever received from him.

"You are not human."

And there it was, a smile from him – smirk really – that seemed smug and yet proud of her all at the same time.

"Well done, my sweetling. What I am has gone by many names but the humans forgot our true one millennia ago when my father's father was little more than a babe. Now? Now, I believe the preferred word would be Demon."

Sansa's innocent eyes went wide once more as she repeated the word. Demons didn't really exist, did they? They were just peppered among the religions of the Old Gods, the Seven and every other deity which existed from Westeros to Sothoryos. Demons were not real … but what else explained Petyr Baelish?

"Father said you were a demon." Muttered Sansa, she couldn't quite reach his eyes.

Petyr chuckled. "I'm sure he has no idea just how correct he is." She gazed at Petyr's disarming smile, the one designed to keep her calm. "More importantly, my dear, so are you."

The redhead's brow furrowed deeply and went very, very silent. When the quietude lingered on too long Petyr sighed and took her hand in his to ground her panicked mind. He gripped her tight but not painfully so, his eyes remained soft and caring.

"See? This is why I did not which to tell you everything in one go." Another sigh. "Sansa, you are something remarkably rare. I am ancient and yet have only heard of someone like you once before."

"What am I?" Her voice was but a whisper.

Lord Baelish couldn't resist the kiss he pressed to her fingers. "You are a demon born to human parents." Sansa stared with such disbelief but Petyr continued. "Sansa, my dear sweetling, there are two ways for a demon to be born. There is the obvious and usual way, the way I was born. Then there is the second way, many of our kind still believe it is impossible but here you stand. What you are is almost mythical." Petyr paused to figure out how to go about explaining, yet this girl had been denied her true nature all her life and deserved to have it back. "Your mother, Catelyn, conceived an ordinary human child just like your siblings, but, unfortunately, that child's soul died. Your mother was then left pregnant but with a child that would be stillborn as so many are. These children are just empty shells who never get to live. You though, you, my precious girl, did something extraordinary, something even my kind refuse to believe. That babe inside your mother screamed out for a soul, screamed and demanded until one answered, only this soul didn't belong to the humans but to the demons like myself. A demon soul merged with a human body. And so, you are a demon born to humans."

"No."

Petyr lifted an eyebrow as Sansa backed away from him as if he were mad. Perhaps Lord Baelish was mad, had lost his mind somehow, maybe it had been the ghosts said to roam Harrenhal. Sansa couldn't believe all of this, it was insanity.

"I'm afraid the answer is yes, sweetling." He stepped forwards though didn't crowd the teenager. "Why would I lie to you? What could I possibly get out of making up this story?"

It was true, from what she'd seen of Petyr Baelish he chose his words carefully and used them to gain what he wanted. What would be gain from lying in such a way? Also, Petyr couldn't have been lying about her dreams, they had been her own and yet there he'd been inside them just as real as he was now.

"Why do I dream of you?" Sansa demanded.

She had to know, was sick of being oblivious to everything around her, of being an easily dismissed child.

"Good girl, you are finally asking the correct questions." He smiled boldly at her. "Have you seen the painting in the hall? The one by Kova Bragian?" The girl nodded, she'd taken great notice of that painting for its beauty and skill. "The story is true of demons rather than humans, they just adopted the idea. Our souls are destined for one another, your soul yearns to be with mine as mine does for you. The yearning is constant and so, in your sleep, it comes looking for me or occasionally mine goes in search of you."

"But you loved my mother." Sansa vacillated.

The older man sighed, for a man so good with words he couldn't explain all of this as he would have wished.

"The little boy whose soul occupied this body before me did, and that duel killed him. I took this body because my brother had recently acquired a new one for himself since he found where his soulmate would be, also we like to remain similar ages when possible. I mostly took this form though because my soul felt as though it had found what it had always yearned for in Catelyn, that should have been impossible." That fearful confusion had started to reappear on Sansa's face once again. "Demons only soul bond to others of our kind and she is human. Sansa, what I had actually found was the vessel that would birth you. That was why Cat never felt the same for me and yet I'd been pulled towards her, that is why I still searched you out in my sleep, you hadn't been born yet."

The way Petyr saw things Sansa had two options, she could either slap him, accuse him of being insane and flee for home and safety, or she could listen to him and realize he wasn't lying. Baelish lied about much, twisted and turned the truth for his own gain as he had for centuries but he'd not lie to Sansa, not his perfect soulmate and not about something so important.

Meanwhile Sansa had other thoughts which scurried around her brain. All of it was nonsense, surely. Demons weren't real, soulmates were an illusion created by painters and poets to try to romanticize marriage rather than letting it be known – as Lady Margaery had said – that it was little more than a business transaction. As a child she'd believed the illusion, wanted it to be real so she could marry Joffrey but upon meeting him Sansa had quit deluding herself. Logically everything said to distrust Lord Baelish and stay away from him, however, her heart said to listen, to stay close to him; was this the yearning he'd spoken off? Then again, Petyr had also made her mother sound like little more than a broodmare.

The man in his ditto suit smiled to himself. "To me, she is in a way. After all she gave me you."

He tried to give Sansa a moment to soak everything in as she once again stared at him almost open-mouthed, though he suspected she'd need far more than a minute just as he would have if roles were reversed. However, she latched on to something then which he'd not expected or thought even remotely relevant to the conversation.

"Wait, brother?!"

Once more Petyr nodded. "Yes, my father and mother are immortal so as you can imagine I have several siblings. There were eleven of us at last count." If Sansa's eyebrows rose any higher they'd have vanished into her hairline. "Occasionally we'll change names but most try to avoid it when possible. Currently there's my family's golden boy, Sebastiyan, he's the eldest. Then; Amyas, Faustus, myself and Oberyn, Raghnall, Evangelijne, Demelzah – you'll want to stay away from her – Bartholomeu, Khreestiana and Vhaluntinya. I am told to expect a twelfth by the end of the year though." He continued as though this was normal. "Oberyn and I are twins though I am the elder."

And Sansa had though she'd had a lot of siblings. She honestly questioned herself why she'd not fled yet but there she stayed rooted to the spot wondering-

"Oberyn? As in Prince Oberyn?" Petyr nodded. "You and the prince of Dorne are … twins? There's at least a decade between you surely."

He chuckled. "We are, yes, I am eleven minutes older than him which he likes to turn into a semi-constant ribbing. Also, you are thinking much too simply, my sweetling, the physical forms we inhabit are separated by a decade but our souls came into this world together. We don't really speak with the rest of our family, in fact, Oberyn would say he's the only one who actually likes me." Baelish paused a moment then to look Sansa up and down with a calculating eye. "I must say, sweetling, you are taking all of this surprisingly well. Perhaps it has not yet really sunk in."

The redhead shook her head and finally pulled her hands away from Petyr's. She pulled them close to her chest as if to curl in on herself but she managed to remain standing tall; Petyr was proud of her.

"Oh, it has sunk in, Lord Baelish, I have been silently searching for answers my entire life and you are the first to provide any even if they are all words of madness. It may sound like some story, some fable to play a trick on an unsuspecting child but-" Blue eyes met his green ones "-something inside of me says I should believe you. Why have I not left? Why do I listen to you? Most importantly why do I trust you? You are a stranger to me, my Lord, a man everyone in my family told me to stay far away from. My father clearly hates you, my sister thinks you just want to use me, my cousin is convinced this is some way of getting closer to my mother and I no longer know what to think. So why do I trust you, Lord Baelish?"

Petyr stepped closer, pleased when she didn't back away from him and lightly cupped her left cheek as he peered at her softly; practically lovingly.

"Please, call me Petyr." The other hand rose to cup the other side of Sansa's face, his skin so warm and he smelt of mint. "You trust me as I trust you. Our souls know one another, Sansa, they know better than our minds do. You know the pain of your subconscious looking, searching, in the night, I have felt that for centuries, for almost a thousand years. Then when I finally do feel that pull towards you and I take a new body what I find is a human, a human who does not love me and does not feel the same pull that I do. For a long time I thought perhaps I had no soulmate, that I was broken, alone. Then I was invited to celebrate the birth of Cat's first daughter at Winterfell Hall. Imagine my surprise when I made my way through the crowd to congratulate her and instead found your father stood guard over you while she tended to something elsewhere. The same pull but not for her, for you. My connection to the soul meant for me wasn't weak or non-existent, it was so strong I knew where you'd be before you were even a possibility. I wasn't alone, Sansa, I was just early."

The older man's eyes were filled with a desperation for her to believe him, for a liars words to be taken as gospel. As he spoke Petyr had tightened his grip on her face but not painfully so. Yes, in that moment Petyr Baelish – or whatever his birth name had been – was more desperate than dishonest.

Sansa sighed but didn't look away from him. "How much more is there you haven't told me?"

"Much, sweetling. So much more, but it doesn't need to come all at once."

Sansa wanted to ask more, longed for answers, an urge which Lord Baelish couldn't blame her for. She wanted to ask how he seemed able to travel between bodies, why he was almost a thousand years old and yet still alive, and most importantly she wanted to know why her of all people.

"My inquisitive girl" Baelish smirked at her with adoration. "We travel by feeling, though it is very complicated, seeking out what we need and when; similar to your dreams. As for how I am still alive it is fairly simple. Human souls degrade over time which causes the body to do the same, eventually they die and the body follows because it cannot survive without a soul. Almost like a quill without any ink. Demon souls do not have the same limitations, our souls – yours and mine – are constantly renewing themselves so we do not die of old age or illness, why I was able to repair this body when people thought I would die."

"Then why aren't you still a boy if that was the body you took?"

Why am I not running or panicking? Sansa already knew that answer, because you know he's not lying.

"We can let a body age if we so desire. As I said, Oberyn and I like to remain similar ages physically. You can do it if you want or you could remain seventeen for eternity … I would not be opposed."

Baelish smirked devilishly. Oh how wonderful it would be to have Sansa stay his perfect, young girl forever. She'd never get wrinkles or go gray, would always be the picture of beauty that matched her soul.

"I'd like that."

You'd like that?! Where is this coming from? You don't know who he is! He's just said it himself, he's a damn demon. Her mind screamed at her. But he held you last night, comforted you. In your dream all he did was cling to you and treat you like- like- like he loves you.

Petyr took her hands back into his larger ones and something inside Sansa purred and relaxed, her body soothed like that first cup of hot tea on a harsh winter's day. Still, all fairytales sounded delightful at first.

"What is it you want of me, Lord Baelish?"

"You already know that, sweetling." When Sansa continued to stare at him his eyes softens, an expression few ever got to see. "I will be honest with you, Sansa, I want you. I want you to stay with me forever, stand by my side. Do you have any idea how long I have waited for you? How rare one soulmate finding the other one is? Apart from my parents and Oberyn there is little more than a handful. Oberyn waited centuries for Elaria to be born."

"I cannot just stay here!" Sansa exclaimed. "I have a family back at Winterfell and it has already been decided that I shall marry Prince Joffrey unless Father gets his way and then I will probably be married to Harrold Hardyng."

Petyr growled in the back of his throat, it was something she'd not heard from Petyr before, as if he were suddenly possessive.

"Your father is many things but cruel and dumb are not amongst them, he'll never marry you to Joffrey the incestuous bastard." Sansa questioned the word 'incestuous' but he waved his hand to dismiss the topic for a later date and continued to speak. "As for Hardyng, I've had dealings with Lady Waynwood before, her ward is little more than a walking libido." The redhead parted her lips to speak but – once again – Petyr just carried on talking. "Let me do one thing, sweetling. One act and if you still wish to leave after the conclave has concluded then-" he side unhappily "-very well. I shall give you the use of one of my ships so you may return to Winterfell quicker."

Sansa paused to think. Could she walk away from all of this? No, you cannot just go back to The North and expect to be content. That thought was how Sansa came to nod. She watched as Petyr cupped her cheeks then, slowly, leant in to kiss her pale lips. Sansa had never been kissed before, the closest she'd ever gotten was when Jon, her father or Robb kissed her forehead on occasion. Most noble born ladies, the ones who had been raised on a combination of societal norms and etiquette, would have pulled away and maybe even struck the Lord of Harrenhal for his audacity but Sansa couldn't bring herself to. His lips were gentle, just a brush of softness, but Sansa felt … whole. Felt like a piece which had been missing had finally been returned to her. She wanted to cry, wanted the kiss to never end. It was little more than a chaste kiss but for Sansa it was the most important moment in her life, her heart cried out with joy.

Petyr was ancient, had said so himself, and Sansa wondered if this was how he felt as well, if he'd been longing for this feeling just as she had all that time. When the man with ash at his temples pulled back he looked deep into her cerulean orbs.

"I have loved you since before you were born and nothing will ever change that, sweetling. The stories you hear about me loving your mother are only half-true. It was the Petyr before me who loved Cat, the one who died even though she begged Brandon not to kill him."

Sansa let silence linger for a long time, the realization of everything he'd said had finally started to sink in and she truly didn't know how to feel. Eventually, after he'd been staring at her long enough to become clearly concerned, Sansa managed to find words and form a sentence.

"Lord Baelish, while I believe you are not human, I cannot simply abscond to live on an island with you because you say you love me. I don't know you and I don't even know if the other things you say are actually true. It could all be the ramblings of a mad man and my naïvety."

The older man knew he should have expected something like this. How could she take everything in so simply? He'd been the one who wanted to guide her slowly into his world.

He sighed, defeated "So you will leave after the conclave."

It wasn't really a question but still Sansa felt the need to answer.

"I must." She said quietly. "I am sorry, Lord Baelish, I do not mean to reject you or hurt you but but information which at first seems to connect all the dots isn't always the right information."

Why did her heart hurt? Why did it feel as though someone had actually gripped it and squeezed violently? The redhead started to walk away back to the fireplace as she wondered how in Westeros she'd get the thing to open up and free her from the hidden part of Harrenhal but Petyr's deep voice had her halt.

"Sansa, sweetling, when you are in the conclave hall, believe what you feel from the others and not what they say. It is their emotions which should guide you and you can use them against your opponents." A small pause, tiny and hardly there. "You are an empath after all, I suspect it is why you believe me quite so wholeheartedly."

With that he shifted a sconce beside the fire and the doorway revealed itself so she could leave. Sansa didn't look back as she all but fled the library, but she knew Lord Baelish watched her go, his green eyes didn't leave her until the library door closed behind her.

The demon took a calming breath, he was a patient man, he'd waited this long – all his life – for Sansa Stark and he could wait a little longer; even if he didn't want to.