Sansa Stark learnt two things very quickly once the conclave proceedings had begun again. The first was that she should have eaten more at breakfast with Petyr, for some strange reason she was still ravenous; though after some time she'd started to wonder if that was down to the sex rather than anything else. The second was that yesterday had been tame, day two was when the proverbial knives came out it seemed. The only human who didn't look ready to stab someone in the face was Varys but Sansa suspected he wouldn't hesitate for a moment if it came down to it. Also, how Oberyn managed to keep looking bored and unaffected was more or less entirely beyond Sansa. Xaro Xhoan Daxos hadn't improved his attitude either, he'd continued to glare at everybody and offer no real solutions or insights into anything.
As the minutes, then hours, passed by Sansa realized that though everybody was out for themselves they had formed small groups based off their thoughts. Of course the Greyjoy's were together but Varys seemed more aligned with Tyrion than Petyr than she'd previously assumed, then again Petyr and Oberyn were playing their own game over the top of the one the humans were aware of, and now so was Sansa so she supposed she was with them. Margaery appeared to want to situate herself with the little lion and eunuch for the time being but Sansa was smart enough to know that would change as soon as it stopped being convenient for her. It was just Melisandre and Xaro who remained alone, outliers in this game of lies.
It was strange but Sansa couldn't help being proud of herself, not only had she accepted the wild news of her nature – an easy task when it had allowed so much to fall into place and make her feel whole – but she'd come to use it as well. Petyr had spoken of her one day being able to cause others to feel the emotion she chose and while it seemed like a remarkable skill Sansa didn't intend to go around forcing others, it was the other side of her empathy gift – because it was a gift – that Sansa was proud of herself for using. She'd been able to feel the hostility radiating off of Xaro all day, then again it was plain in his face so kind of obvious to everybody present, however, the fact that Tyrion wasn't nearly as drunk as he pretended to be wasn't so clear to people, Sansa felt the waves of concern and hope that left him; he really did just want all the fighting to stop, for someone good to finally lead Westeros, Sansa didn't think much would come of that want as noble as it was.
Throughout the conclave's second day Sansa didn't accomplish much, then again she'd not come to Mockingbird Island with an agenda, although she had kept Xaro's comments from cutting her too deeply. A man who'd been nice and generous on the surface but was actually a greedy and arrogant man on the inside. Despite the redhead having not achieved world domination or taking over the Iron Bank of Braavos, Petyr looked to be well on his way to doing … well, whatever it was he actually wanted; even Sansa wasn't a hundred percent certain and she wasn't sure Oberyn knew either.
Speaking of Oberyn Martell, Sansa watched him a time, he was laid back and casual even during argument, the man appeared to radiate charisma and was always ready with a scoundrel-esque smile, the dark-haired man was debonair and exotic. Petyr was entirely different. While both could easily duke it out when it came to smirks and sarcasm, the brothers were wildly different. Petyr was a walking mystery, a talented manipulator and terrifyingly intelligent to a level few were capable of, a man best described by the word Machiavellian in all honesty. He wasn't a true sociopath, no, he understood love, pain and all the other emotions, he wasn't antisocial but asocial; so no, Petyr wasn't a true sociopath, he was something much worse. Petyr was far more dangerous, a devilishly dangerous demon but, as Sansa had quickly come to realize, was her devilishly dangerous demon. Yes, Petyr and Oberyn were very different almost to the point it was hard to believe them twins. However, every now and again when they flashed a knowing look between themselves their eyes would darken in the same way and Sansa saw the similarities. Lady Sansa wondered if she would develop the same knowing expression one day when Petyr had finished teaching her how to play this game of his.
Come the end of day two only Petyr, Oberyn and Tyrion had made any real progress. Then again Yara just seemed to want her uncle to fuck off and Sansa didn't think she'd get much help with that from the conclave. Quite frankly Sansa was utterly delighted when they adjourned for the day, everybody either retired to their chambers or to the gardens and Sansa very nearly joined them but Petyr appeared from the shadows as she headed for the grand staircase; sometimes she wondered if he could walk through walls.
"You were quiet today." He said in that raspy voice of his, a small smirk on his lips. "Observing and waiting to strike I hope."
Sansa breathed out a laugh, short and quick, as she turned to face him fully. "You make me sound like one of the Sand Snakes."
Lord Baelish leant against one of the large pillars and folded his arms as he regarded her, amusement clear in his eyes. "Oh trust me, I know my nieces and you are not like them."
"Not sure if that is a complement or an insult."
"Neither I suppose." He pushed off from the wall and practically glided over to her where he slipped an arm around her narrow waist. "Let us take a stroll on the beach, just you and I."
The redhead's brow furrowed deeply but she didn't refuse and instead let Petyr guide her along through the grand halls, through the ballroom and out onto a surprisingly large terrace nestled among Mockingbird Island's sharp rocks. She'd never seen it before but somehow she felt that was the point, this wasn't for Petyr's guests, it was hidden off to the side and screamed private; no, this was for him.
"I must say," began the redhead as she lifted her skirts to walk down the steps, "I find it hard to believe Mockingbird Island has a beach."
The steps were slightly wet and grew slippery the further down them they travelled so Petyr took her hand in his for support like a perfect, noble gentleman.
"I shan't hold that against you, Sweetling, but I assure you there is. Most of the island is jagged rocks or simply inaccessible yet if one knows where to look there is the smallest of beaches nestled away at the end of these stairs."
"Like a hidden oasis?" She dazzled him with a charming smile.
The sound of waves crashing against the black rocks echoed as did a few birds as they squawked high above.
"Precisely."
Sansa found her skepticism drained away rather quickly when she laid eyes on the so-called beach. It was a sort of curved triangle of sand surrounded by rocks on two sides with a small boulder as the sand's only blemish. Blue eyes glanced back up the rock-cut steps they'd come down but only the very tip of Kingspyre Tower was visible; isolated truly was the best word.
Lord Baelish offered her his arm then and she quickly took the opportunity to cuddle into his side both for warmth and comfort. Waves washed up the beach then back out as if determined to draw the eye to the horizon. Who knew something so peaceful and tranquil could be hidden behind sharp rocks and Harrenhal's imposing towers.
"What is on your mind, Sansa?" Petyr asked, voice deep as always.
She smiled up at him. "I was just realizing how much I needed this, a peaceful little moment."
The man with ash at his temples pulled her closer in a selfish attempt to be the only one to touch her perfect body. Together they walked along the small beach; with each step Sansa's heels dug in ever so slightly.
"I thought you would enjoy it, Sweetling, I understand that the conclave can be overwhelming to newcomers. Normally that is a good thing but perhaps not in this case." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "If you like we can dine out here tonight."
Sansa beamed. "That sounds wonderful, thank you, Petyr."
To dine in the salty night air, just Petyr and herself, the whole idea practically made Sansa's heart sing.
"No thanks needed. You are my other half, I cannot be happy unless you are."
Blue eyes turned to meet his green ones. "Surely you plagiarized that from a poem."
That earned a chuckle from Lord Baelish as the continued to near the encroaching waves.
"Maybe you just bring out the creative streak in me." He teased.
The sun would set soon, birds would fly back to their nests and the air would cool. Dining then, candles flickering, would be utterly delightful and Sansa could hardly wait.
Little was said for the rest of their stroll since nothing really needed to be said; the waves crashing against the rocks said it all. Somewhere at the very back of her brain Cat's voice screamed at Sansa to stay away from Petyr, Harrenhal and everything that went along with him but the redhead had long ago stopped listening to that voice. While Sansa agreed it was sage advice, it had become totally irrelevant to her; Sansa wasn't some human girl who needed to be sheltered any longer.
When the sun started to set both soulmates returned up the rock steps to Harrenhal where Sansa went to change for the evening while Petyr made his way to his office atop the Tower of Dread to speak with Ros regarding some 'business' as Baelish had cryptically put it.
Lady Stark selected a simple, purple dress for dining with the Master of Coin, a color she thought he'd highly approve of, and wrapped herself in a black shawl. Armeca kindly filled Sansa's hair with pearl-headed pins. Honestly Sansa hadn't ever had anybody to dress up for before, sure she'd dressed for dinner with her family and the occasional guest to Winterfell but she'd never wanted anybody to look at her before Petyr had come along; maybe Joffrey for a short, deranged minute.
Roughly about an hour and a half after they'd separated Sansa returned to the hidden steps which she now found lit by tallow candles, their flames fluttered in the night breeze, and was quickly met by Olyvar.
"Good evening, Lady Sansa. Allow me to escort you?" He proffered his arm out towards her.
"Of course." She quickly agreed and together they made their way along the steps and out onto the hidden beach.
A small table laden with wine glasses and plates each covered over with a cloche, it looked so sweet and perfect with yet more candles burning away. A slight chill lingered in the evening air as clouds passed overhead but it wasn't harsh, more a comfort, a reminder that one was alive.
At the end of a line of sandy footprints stood Lord Baelish himself as he stared off towards the unending horizon with a glass in hand. Sansa couldn't help but think that there was something almost magical about the way the silvery moonlight lit him, left him looking supernatural; but then again, he was. Though he hadn't turned to face her Sansa was fully aware he had registered her presence so she calmly strolled to his side to gaze out at the sea with him.
"Soon I will have to return home." She said almost sorrowfully.
"Then you and I should make the most of what time we have before you return to Winterfell." He replied after a sip of his drink.
Movement sounded then as a series of feet travelled away from them and Sansa's head swung around just in time to see Olyvar and the two other servants who had been on the beach take their leave.
"You do that, don't you." It wasn't quite a question. "Make them do what you want."
"I told you of our abilities, mine can be of the utmost use. Some require words to be used but my staff have grown so acustom to my persuasions that only a slight hint has them comprehending." Petyr paused then and took her hand in his. "Come with me."
So she did. Sansa let him guide her further towards the soft rolling waves and revelled in the warmth of his hand. Her eyebrows shot up when he suddenly sat down.
"Sit with me."
It was silly and really didn't seem like the sort of thing Petyr Baelish did on a regular – or even semi-regular – basis but it was just silly enough to be fun. For a moment the redhead worried about getting her evening dress covered in sand but Sansa didn't have to worry long because somehow Petyr managed to seat her in his lap comfortably without even a moment for pause; his practically empty glass dug slightly into the sand at his side to keep it stable.
Sansa rested her head against his shoulder and stared out at the ocean; odd how she could be his height and yet still feel so wrapped up and safe by him. She'd never seen the sea like this before.
Winterfell Hall was bang in the middle of The North, practically half surrounded by mountains so the ocean wasn't something Sansa had ever seen before; streams, rivers, the occasional lake, yes, but not the ocean. No, her first time had been on their arrival at King's Landing where she'd been able to gaze out at Blackwater Bay with amazement. After a while looking out at the sea had become a past time of Sansa's, a way of escaping Prince Joffrey even for a short while. To Sansa the sea had suggested freedom or perhaps she'd just subconsciously known Petyr was out there waiting for her. When she stared out at the Narrow Sea now though she wasn't trying to escape or avoid, she was just gazing at the world's powerful majesty with the demon who made her feel complete.
At first the idea of living forever had horrified Sansa and she knew full well that only after she returned to Winterfell would she truly be able to digest all she'd learnt about the world and herself, but for now living forever didn't sound so scary as long as she had Petyr to guide her. So no, looking out at the North Sea, sat in Petyr's lap she knew she wasn't trying to escape, she was perfectly content to stay. The redhead didn't have her siblings running around screaming, she didn't have the 'you must display yourself as a perfect lady' from her mother and she most certainly didn't have Joffrey alternating between leering and glaring at her. Sansa could be herself here; she had peace.
Petyr pulled her closer then and she let out a content sigh as salty air washed over them.
"Are you ready to eat or shall we sit here a while longer?" He asked, voice deep.
Sansa didn't even need to think about it for a moment. "Sit here a little longer. The cloche will keep our meals warm."
"Anything you want, Sweetling." He promised.
So they stayed there sat amongst withered away boulders and grains of sand that had once been mountains. Just two demons, the dazzling starts and rhythmic song of the waves. Sansa would always have The North in her blood and adore her homeland but the teen knew she had already grown to love Harrenhal and Mockingbird Island.
Most would depart the island only a few hours after the conclave the next day and then finally they'd be alone save for the servants and Oberyn of course but they were all in on the secret so Sansa enjoyed her evening with her mysterious demon.
~X~
The clocks chiming three o'clock concluded the conclave for another year and when it did Daxos stormed out and went to wait aboard his ship until it was prepared to depart. It had become clear to Sansa what Petyr and Oberyn had really been after, what nugget of information they'd desired. Daenerys Targaryen. The brothers wanted to know how far into her plan to remove the Baratheons and Lannisters from the throne she'd gotten, as well as how far Tyrion leaned towards helping her; Daxos had just been there to tell them of the dragon queen and her stay in Qarth. The merchant hadn't ever stood a chance of getting anything he wanted, hence why he'd stormed out.
Meanwhile Sansa felt as though a door to the world had been opened and she'd seen through new eyes, then again, she supposed in a way that was exactly what had happened.
As soon as Xaro Xhoan Daxos had left to sulk like a child Harrenhal had felt lighter; odd for a place supposedly haunted. The little lion, Oberyn, Yara and her brother filtered off for a drink – or twenty which was more likely – and to await their ship departure. Margaery had headed to the gardens for some sun with Varys which had left Lord Baelish alone with his girl.
Quickly the two had opted to stay away from the guests, Petyr had guided his redhead into the gallery and then behind the secret passage through the fireplace into a secret room. It wasn't as large as she'd imagined, an almost perfectly square room which had mirroring fireplaces on opposite walls suggesting a second entrance. The hidden room wasn't as opulently decorated as the rest of Harrenhal either, the walls were coated in a dark-brown panelling with built-in shelves along one wall topped with odd items that Sansa instantly had questions about.
"It's beautiful in here." Sansa meant that. "Better than I imagined when I found the lock underneath the sculpture."
Petyr smirked while she continued to glance around. "Found that, did you. The lovely thing about having to rebuild Harrenhal is that I could hide a network of passages that only I know the full extent of here, blend them in with the original ones."
Sansa perked up then. "Can I see all of them?"
"All of them." The man with ash at his temples confirmed. "And if you like this room you should see the vault in my office."
"I'd like that."
Together they headed around the room occasionally pausing to glance at this and that until they came to a stop before a painting, but this one wasn't like those which adorned the rest of Harrenhal. It wasn't given pride of place but nor was it shoved into a corner as though it offended. Sansa didn't recognize the two men illustrated but there was something eerily familiar about the taller of the two. Quite frankly the only thing Sansa could say about it with any certainly was that this portrait was old. It didn't have the same details of modern works and the paint had started to crack in some areas.
"I see you found us."
The redhead's brow furrowed deeply in puzzlement. "'Us'?"
"Yes," Petyr nodded, "this is myself and Oberyn in our first bodies before we went to make life for ourselves. Some demons stay in the body they're birthed to, others swap when needed." A pause, small and hardly there. "Regardless, none of that really matters since it was so long ago."
The redhead paused a moment to look up at the painting, both Petyr and Oberyn had looked very similar once upon a time; same eyes and lips.
Baelish continued. "Our mother insists that she has a portrait of all her children in their original form, similar to how a human mother would save your first pair of shoes. She has the original while Oberyn and I have copies."
"That sounds so sweet." Samsa smiled up at him dazzlingly. "She must really love you."
"Not really." He didn't seem phased in the least. "My mother - Alayne - only does it so she can decipher if we are failures by her standards."
That seems far less sweet, muttered Lady Stark's mind, yet strangely still not as awful as Cersei Lannister.
Petyr continued. "Sweetling, I have eleven, soon to be twelve, siblings. Some of us born hundreds of years apart. We are a remarkably rare species and are not born in the same way humans are. My mother views herself more as a trainer than a mother. She was good to us when we were young but it waned quickly." He flashed her a comforting smile then, one full of reassurance. "Worry not, my love, not all demons are like her."
Lord Baelish guided her away from the picture then and though Sansa would have liked to have studied his original face a little longer, she knew he didn't wish to speak of the subject any more. Instead she let him escort her over to a set of red, button back armchairs which Sansa suspected the brothers had spent many a night sat in sipping wine and brandy. Petyr made sure to keep hold of his beautiful girl's hand as they sat; there was a peaceful quiet, just the sound of crackling fireplaces and general settling of the castle.
When the silence finally broke it wasn't a sudden change but rather a deep baritone carried across the room by a gentle breeze.
"Once everyone has left I shall take you to the catacombs, you should see the weapons."
"Really?" She asked in surprise; Sansa had thought that he'd want to keep them as hidden as possible.
"Of course." He confirmed. "Though a death sentence to us when wielded they are truly a sight to behold."
The teenager felt a wave of something pass over her then; so many would never even know such items had existed let alone see them with their own eyes.
"I'd be honored."
Green eyes flashed to her. "You're the first to sound so enthusiastic."
Sansa hardly missed a beat. "Well, how many other than myself and your brother have been offered?"
Baelish smirked. "Touché."
They continued to enjoy the comfortable quietude after that much as they had the previous night on the beach. Normally if Sansa sat with someone there would be a need to fill the quiet with polite conversation as she'd been taught by her mother but when it came to Petyr she could just sit, relax and be herself in a content silence. For longer than Sansa had been able to count the two stayed in their peace with their fingers laced together. The air had a warmth to it – probably from the fires – which left the room feeling cosy and Sansa couldn't help but want to curl up for a nap like a pussycat. She was happy but soon she'd need to return to Winterfell.
"It it strange to want to go home and never leave here all at the same time?"
Lord Baelish breathed out a chuckle at her question. "That isn't strange at all, my love. Just because you have found your soulmate does not mean you stop being a Stark and loving your family."
The teenager appreciated that he understood even if he didn't appear to be close to his own family; save for Oberyn. The fact she could only have his children came back to her then and she decided there and then she would adore each and every one of her babies, they would all be loved by their mother and undoubtedly taught how to get everything they wanted by their father. That soothed Sansa, she'd not be forced to spawn more fake stags for Prince Joffrey, nor would she wonder how many half-siblings her and Harrold's children would end up with. These children would be Petyr's and suddenly the idea of 'doing her duty' didn't scare Sansa so much.
Petyr's green orbs rested upon her then, a comforting weight. "What are you thinking of? It made you happy."
"Just about when we have our own children."
Petyr smirked having clearly pictured something similar at one time or another and squeezed her hand.
"If that is what you desire I can make it happen." He teased then leant over the arm of his chair to kiss her fingers lovingly.
"I'm not ready yet, not yet."
Of course she wasn't, Sansa was seventeen and unwed. No, she wasn't ready for a child just yet; the most she could raise would be a puppy for a few years at least.
Another smirk passed over his lips before Baelish rose to his feet and pulled Sansa up with him, he wrapped his arms around her slender waist and kissed her with all the love one soulmate could have for another.
"We could always practice."
It was the redhead's turn to smirk then, she didn't think she'd ever be able to say no to some practice. Practice made perfect after all.
~X~
By nightfall all the conclave guests had departed Harrenhal for their homes save for Sansa and Prince Oberyn. Petyr had seen to it personally that Sansa's vessel would br able to depart first thing in the morning while Oberyn would stay on a little longer.
While Sansa was pleased that it was now pretty much just her and Lord Baelish she couldn't help but start to realize why so many thought Harrenhal haunted, the castle was so large, imposing and now empty that ever little the smallest of sounds echoed from seemingly nowhere but a paranormal origin. Earlier that day when she'd politely bid Margaery goodbye she could have sworn a man clad in armor had been up at the top of the rock steps; a blink and he was gone.
Stars twinkled up in the heavens but Petyr and his girl were oblivious, there weren't any windows so far under ground. Once Olyvar had confirmed twice over that all the human guests had vacated the island, Petyr escorted the young Lady Stark down to the old, disused dungeon then along a tunnel which looked as though it would cave in at any second. If it actually would or if that was just the impression Baelish had desired to give off she wasn't sure; either way it was effective.
The dungeon air had an icy chill to it – not that she'd hadn't expected that – the sort of chill that worked its way into the bones and made one feel as though they'd been dragged to the very bowels of hell. The redhead wasn't scared, wouldn't let herself be, but the dark rock and lack of light save for the flickering torch Petyr held made everything rather foreboding. Quite frankly Sansa probably would have avoided the place as best she could had she not been with the Lord of Harrenhal and aware of what awaited her.
The dark-haired man kept an arm around her waist as they walked, partly as a comfort, partially possessive. He'd spent so long waiting for Sansa that he'd take every single change he could to touch, hold and kiss her.
Eventually they came to a dead-end, nothing there, not a pillar nor a gate or even a sconce; nothing, just a rocky ending to an otherwise pointless, and dangerous, looking tunnel. Petyr couldn't help but smirk at his redhead's puzzled expression as he finally released her so he could gesture loosely to the wall beside him then tapped one.
"Push here, sweetling." He instructed knowingly.
Blue eyes flicked to him with a delighted suspicion, but she quickly followed his instructions nevertheless. There was a metallic click and then a large section of the dusty wall swung open to reveal a steep set of stone steps, these, however, were not like the ones which cuddled the island at the wharf, these were crude and angled slightly in some places. These weren't there to be pretty but rather to lead down into the pits of Mockingbird Island.
Had it not been for the torch Petyr held there wouldn't have been a single flicker of light, just an unending abyss.
Sansa gathered her skirts together, grateful when Petyr offered his arm to help her lest she slip. The air grew colder as if a breeze came through but everything was solid rock, there wasn't anywhere for a gust to come from.
"Stand still, my love, we wouldn't want you to trip." Said Lord Baelish when they got to the bottom of the stairs.
Sansa's brow furrowed deeply. Yes, everything was practically pitch-black but there wasn't anywhere for her to go surely. They couldn't get any deeper and while Mockingbird Island was larger than she'd anticipated the secret tunnels couldn't be anymore extensive. Petyr approached what the orange glow revealed to a gigantic stone door and pulled a lever made of metal and wood, the stone screamed and creaked but opened smoothly enough, even in the darkness Sansa could see a cavern before her. The cavern wasn't outrageously large but at the same time seemed much too big to have been hidden away inside Mockingbird Island. A stone walkway stretched out before her – or at least as far out in front of her as she could actually see – but that wasn't what had Sansa's attention. From far below came a rushing sound of water, as if it were actually angry. The water death trap had to be far below them judging by the way it echoed, thirty feet maybe more. Petyr's green orbs raked up then down her supple body before he opted to answer her unvoiced questions; the slight pang of fear in her didn't go unnoticed.
"Long ago when the island had the name Whent there was a small network of cave tunnels which had been dug by the water flow. After Harrenhal's destruction they partially collapsed, there isn't any access big enough to fit a person any longer but somehow the water still manages to hurtle through." Baelish shrugged. "I'm not sure if this cavern was here before the attack or are a result of it, either way I have found use for this little hidy-hole." He offered her his large hand then. "Come, the bridge is perfectly safe."
Sansa hesitated. "But... I can hardly see my hand in front of my face."
"Oh, yes, sorry." He smirked to himself. "One moment, my love."
Lord Baelish left her for the right side of the bridge, had it not been for the flaming torch she'd have lost sight of him entirely. Carefully he lowered the torch to the low wall of the bridge, there was a fizz and then a bold whoosh as a green flame roared to life, down the right of the bridge to the other end, then this way and that revealing some kind of pedestals before the flame rushed back along the left side of the bridge.
The redhead stared, open-mouthed and shocked at what she'd just witnessed. She'd never seen a flame like that, never seen such beautiful power.
"Wildfire." Said Petyr as he slipped the torch into the holder and returned to his soulmate's side. "In very small doses it makes a wonderfully useful light. Dangerous one might say but this sort of thing deserved it."
Sansa let him wrap his arms around her waist and hold her close, the two of them lit generously by the wildfire.
"For a man who seemingly likes to work from the shadows, you do appear to have a flair for the dramatic." She teased which earned her a little chuckle.
"Well, every now and then a demon does need to strut out of those shadows even for a little while." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Shall we?"
Sansa's dazzling blue eyes peered out at the bridge flanked by wildfire; from everything she'd ever gleaned about wildfire it was volatile and dangerous, prone to exploding. However, as it lit the troughs on either side of the stone bridge she couldn't help but think it the most magical wonder she'd ever seen.
Finally Sansa nodded, she wanted to see the weapons of fable. With Petyr's arm still snaked around the teenager's waist they crossed the bridge to the other side of the cavern.
The wildfire had staved off chill somewhat but the water continued to rush below them terrifyingly, so black and unwavering. Sansa refused to shiver though, not when she was so safe in Petyr's arms. Soon they reached the end of the walkway and Petyr waisted no time guiding her to the seven red marble pedestals, all of which were topped with a sword save for the middle one; a jigsaw missing a piece. Each pedestal had a golden plaque labelled with each kingdom and sure enough it was The North's that lay vacant.
Young Lady Stark couldn't take her eyes from the weapons, amazement dominated her features. These weapons, they almost didn't look possible.
"Soon it will be a complete collection, Sweetling."
"They're stunning." She meant that, they gleamed and shone in the wildfire.
Each blade of Valyrian steel was a little different depending on the preferred style of the kingdom they'd been gifted to, but all had the same key things in common. First the blades were all adorned with symbols which had been seemingly made by gold and possibly obsidian inlays. Second were the handles, they'd been made from some kind of bone though it wasn't like any bone Sansa had ever seen before; it looked thicker, denser even. Lastly, and arguably most notably, were the guards.
"Is that dragon glass?" Sansa questioned quickly.
Lord Baelish nodded. "Yes, my love, dragon glass is a powerful thing, humans nor demons fully understand it." He gestured to the blade from the Crownlands. "The symbols are from every faith one could imagine and I suppose you've wondered which animal gave part of itself for the handles; they came from a dragon. Disgusting if you ask me, that they'd use those creatures against us."
Sansa's brow furrowed deeply in puzzlement. "That's dragon bone?!"
"Yes," Lord Baelish confirmed easily, "who do you think taught the humans how to ride dragons?"
Intrigued by the swords and intent on ignoring the rapids below that bridge she reached a pale hand towards Dorne's sword only to ground to a halt as blue eyes peered to the dark-haired man.
"May I?" She asked, breath slightly visible in the cold air.
"Of course, but be careful of the blade edge. As you are a demon the cut will not only bleed but burn severely."
Keen to avoid the pain the swords could inflict she quickly promised to be careful then lightly drew her fingers over the smooth yet rough handle of bone. It felt different to horn or other bones, like ice and stone had merged together with metal, while the dragon glass was like diamonds.
"They're truly beautiful, Petyr. In a morbid way."
Petyr nodded more to himself than Sansa. "I couldn't agree more, Sweetling. Then again there is always something beautiful about death."
The redhead backed away from the blade then, content not to push her luck.
"What will you do once you have all of them?"
"Nothing." Baelish was quick to respond. "Nothing but keep them hidden here where no one can ever find them. Thanks to the purge we are an endangered species. It is unlikely my and Oberyn's siblings will ever find their soulmates. It would do me no good to use these weapons against my own kind."
Young Sansa had to agree with him, she didn't know everything which had happened between humans and demons – until a few days ago she'd not known demons were even real – but even Sansa thought the weapons needed to remain hidden, and Petyr's cavern under Mockingbird Island was a better place than any other she could think of except for maybe somewhere over The Wall.
Once more Petyr took the opportunity to wrap his arms protectively around his sweet redhead, an action Sansa quickly copied. She slipped her hands inside his coat to use his body heat to keep the cavern's chill away. The wildfire did its part to stop her shivering but that didn't stop the cold trying to seep into her soul.
"We have a great many swords mounted at Winterfell Hall," she began after a long moment, "but I haven't seen anything like these before and I know every inch of my home." The redhead sighed. "Although, it's not the sort of thing we would have just lying around."
"Indeed not." Petyr agreed easily.
"They should all be here where another purge can never happen."
Lord Baelish rested his chin atop Sansa's red locks to breathe in her wonderful scent; flower blossoms and honey.
"My brother and I have spent hundreds of years trying to complete that task and we will even if it takes us hundreds more."
Sansa smiled up at him fondly then, her blue eyes sparkled in the light of the wildfire. "You didn't have me hundreds of years ago. I'll help you find The North's sword. I can search my home more freely than you could."
In all honesty Petyr had planned to ask her from the beginning, she was the one with the best chance of finding it after all, but he wasn't sure it was a good idea for her to just go looking alone.
"That would be wonderful, Sansa, but I don't want you getting hurt. Who knows what trap – if any – is set up to take your pretty little head off. When Oberyn retrieved Dorne's sword he got dropped into a pit of vipers, had he been unbonded or human he'd most certainly have died."
"I will be careful, I promise, Petyr." She pressed a kiss to his cheek. "It's just I don't want to go to sleep at night knowing some crazed person – someone like Joffrey – could one day find the missing sword and start a savage cull of demons and those people have decided are demons for little more than someone's sick amusement."
Petyr pulled her closer to his chest. "Fear not, Sweetling, I will protect you. I don't doubt that you can do this but I want you safe."
"If I find it I will send for you," she promised "just have a ship waiting."
"I will likely be in King's Landing." He told her off-handedly which got him a quick smile.
"That's even better."
The two demons kissed then, Sansa all wrapped up in Petyr's tight embrace as if the most dangerous weapons in all of history weren't sat little more than a foot from them.
"Oh my sweet Sansa." He breathed out happily.
"Always." She smiled. "My heart has yearned for you so long without my mind's knowledge. Now we are together though I feel whole."
"I feel it as well." Another kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too, Petyr. As mad as it sounds to love a man I have only just met, i do love you."
The pair stood together in the cavern for several minutes just enjoying one another's presence as if they weren't surrounded by the things which had almost wiped out their species. Instead of fear Sansa only felt a peaceful contentment.