The time had finally come, despite it having loomed over both Petyr and his redhead for days now the actual moment of her boarding the ship – Petyr's best – had somehow managed to sneak up on the pair. Sansa's whole body fluttered with nervous ambivalence as she stood with him on the wharf, one half of her couldn't wait to return home and be wrapped up in the arms of her loving mother; though that would have to wait until her parents were done yelling at her. The other half of Sansa though, that was the truly painful part, she didn't want to leave Petyr's arms, didn't want to be away from him now she'd finally discovered what her mind, her soul, had been searching for all her short life. When the redhead stopped to think about it she'd had that empty feeling for seventeen years but Petyr, oh poor Petyr, he'd spent a thousand years with that bottomless emotion plaguing him.

The teenager stood with her back to the ship and Baelish's strong arms wrapped tightly around her slender waist, her head rested against his shoulder.

"I don't want you to go either and if we stand here any longer I'm going to become selfish and lock you away in my bedchamber."

Sansa chuckled mostly because she believed he'd do exactly that... and she'd let him. No, no she had to go home, had to return to Winterfell Hall. Once her mother and father had been placated, once she'd settled back in everything would be well again and she could at the very least write to her sweet Petyr.

He brushed a stray strand of flaming red hair back behind her ear then kissed her temple lovingly; a delicate touch she delighted in.

"You could be selfish for just a little while." She teased, unwilling to let him go. "Maybe longer than a little while."

"Don't tempt me, sweetling." Petyr smirked. "Truly, don't tempt me because I will keep you for myself." Another kiss, just as sweet as all the others he'd bestowed upon her. "By the time you reach Winterfell I shall have departed for King's Landing." Baelish released her then much to Sansa's displeasure, then reached an expectant hand behind him to where Olyvar stood, quickly a small box of dark wood was handed over. Petyr looked at the box a moment before he offered it to his beloved Sansa. "Here."

She took the box without hesitation. "What's in it?"

"Open it once you're on the water. It will be your reminder of me."

She smiled softly up at him. "Oh I don't think I will ever need something to remind me of you, you're too unique."

"I'll take that as a complement."

Lord Baelish ushered her onto the ship then, she needed to leave before he really did force her to stay. They shared another kiss before Sansa forced herself to board the ship where she stood at the stern to wave. Petyr stood there alone on the wharf with Olyvar just behind him and to his right, but blue eyes caught sight of a shape over by the gate which she quickly realized must have been Lothor Brune, seemed he had a skill for staying out of sight and looming.

Sansa continued to wave until long after Petyr had vanished from sight, in fact, Mockingbird Island had practically turned into a blip on the horizon by the time she gave in to her arm's fatigue and stopped. For a time she just continued to stare out at the water, seeing home would be a good thing, she'd be surrounded by her family again.

Sailors went this way and that but other than the occasional glance they left her alone thankfully; although, as time went on she started to wonder if Petyr – or more likely Lothor – had strongly suggested what would happen to them if they hurt her. Sweet and caring in a disturbingly dangerous fashion.

Sansa knew they were far from land when the birds ended their squawking and the only scents to remain were wood and salt water. On her way out the smell of the sea had delighted Sansa and teased her palate with a wave of freedom but no longer, not it was a mix of eagerness to see The North once more and a sorrow of being so far from her Master of Coin.

It was only hours later, when the sun had almost set entirely and the moon had come out to dominate the night, that Sansa finally returned her attention to the small wooden box she'd had a firm grasp of since she boarded the ship. She pulled it close to her chest as she finally made her way down to her cabin where she shut and locked the door for the night. There she lit a small candle and changed into her night things before she crawled into her berth. The candle flickered with a vibrant flame, just enough to see by while waves crashed against the hull.

Only once comfortably settled did Sansa finally reach once again for the box. There were no identifying features on it, just smooth, dark wood like any other simple box but Sansa felt as though there were truly something special inside. Something to remember him by, that was what he'd said and though she'd never need anything to remind her of such a man, having an object to hold on to would be nice.

Having put off opening her present for most of the day she now found herself eager to look inside, so she did just that. With enthusiasm she pulled the box open to reveal a silver brooch; Sansa gasped at its beauty. Of course she had other items similarly designed with her house crest but this brooch was something else. The profile of a gargantuan seated wolf with a mockingbird atop its shoulder much like the statue in his gallery. It wasn't bejewelled, it didn't have delicate inlays of gold or any other precious metal, but the brooch wasn't there to show off wealth, it wasn't for anybody but Sansa Stark. The silver though, it was wonderful and the fur looked soft enough to stroke. Not the sort of thing Sansa should have pinned to her nightdress but quit frankly she couldn't have cared less, so she pinned it and blew the candle out.

With her cabin in darkness Sansa rested her head down on the soft pillow and dreamt of Petyr knowing the brooch was there to snare her in Petyr's arms when he couldn't be there to do it himself.

~X~

It wasn't until the Broken Tower came into view that trepidation and a little fear crawled into her, this was it, she was home and at the mercy of her parents once again. Jeyne had been kind enough to have a carriage waiting for her so she'd not needed to worry about her parents physically coming to get her at the very least.

When the carriage stopped a footman was quick to pull the door open but Sansa didn't move, she couldn't quite bring herself to get out and face the disappointed expression her mother was sure to fire upon her. The redhead didn't have to build her courage though as a few moments later Arya and Rickon appeared to essentially haul her out onto the gravel path.

"Sansa, you're back!" Yelled her brother happily only to wrap his arms around her waist to hug her tight.

Meanwhile Arya just stood there with her looking significantly more amused than pleased to see her sister.

"You are so dead when Mother gets hold of you." She folded her arms across her chest. "She's into that angry stage where she doesn't sound angry, just glares."

Sansa paled, that was by far the worst level of their mothers ire. Slowly they made their way into Winterfell Hall where her siblings instantly scattered when the sight of Catelyn reached them. Traitors, muttered Sansa's mind before she realized she'd have run as well were she in their shoes.

"Hello, Mother." She greeted softly; all of a sudden watching the footmen unload her trunk seemed so interesting. "I assume Father is in King's Landing with the king?"

"Do not try to change the subject, Sansa Stark." Her mother folded her arms across her chest then and suddenly Sansa realized where Arya got it. "You purposely disregarded my and your father's wishes so you could sail off into the sunset. What if you had gotten hurt? A girl from a noble house travelling alone."

"I arrived very well, Mother, the ship made excellent time. Did you not get my letter?"

"Yes, we received your letter two days ago."

"I know-" Sansa's voice ground to a halt as her mother held up her hand.

"No, I do not wish to hear it, Sansa. You are the eldest daughter of House Stark, you will soon be announced as betrothed and yet you abscond to Harrenhal completely oblivious to the dangers which face you and without any knowledge of what Petyr wanted of you."

Oh Sansa may not have known when she arrived on Mockingbird Island but she certainly knew now.

The redhead opened her mouth but nothing came out, she wasn't sure what to say, how to placate her mother; or indeed if that was even an option.

Catelyn continued with her – possibly rehearsed – speech. "Go to your rooms, Sansa, your father shall return from the capital and we will discuss this mess then."

Sansa didn't object, knew better than to bother when her mother wore that glare of hers; it even got Arya to shut up and do as she was told. Instead she just made her way up the stairs, along hallways until she reached her room where she found her trunk being unpacked by one of the maids. Worry shot through Sansa for the second time since she'd gotten home then, she couldn't let the maid see the dresses Petyr had given her just in case her mother caught wind of them and had them taken away.

"Could you- could you come back later perhaps?" Slowly Sansa moved further towards the trunk that lay between her and the blonde maid. "Please? I'm very tired and would like to be alone for a while."

"Of course, milady."

The maid left without another utterance and Sansa realized she actually missed that word being said in Armeca's fake accented voice. With a sigh the blue-eyed teenager turned her attention back to the trunk where she quickly removed the clothing she'd been looking for and lay them neatly in a basket that she then pushed underneath her bed; not the best of hiding places but it would do for the time being. She didn't what to hide such wonderful dresses forever, just long enough for the dust to settle with her parents. Longing for Petyr's embrace she removed the brooch he'd gifted her, she gazed at it for several minutes just knelt by her bed before she went to gaze out of her window. Snow littered the ground as it almost always did and while the chill of her home was comforting she couldn't help but miss the salty air of Mockingbird Island.

~X~

It wasn't until dinner that Sansa left the safe confines of her bed chamber again, and, while her siblings and cousin seemed happy enough to see her, Catelyn continued to keep her brow furrowed deeply in irritation. Her father, Ned, shared the expression but to a much lesser degree; the Stark children of course loved their mother greatly but they'd always gotten on better with their father.

For much of their meal the conversation focused firmly on Robb and his upcoming nuptials to Lady Talisa Maegyr, and while Sansa had heard most of this all before she was grateful for Robb's kindness in keeping their parents' attention on himself rather than letting it slip back to his sister. Despite Robb's best efforts though Sansa knew it would all turn to her eventually, this wasn't the sort of thing she could just magically get herself out of. While Arya started off on some tirade about having to wear the gown of a 'real lady' for the wedding Sansa turned her attention to her gift, the innate ability inside her which Petyr had helped her realize. With a deep breath she closed her eyes and let herself feel the emotions of her family. Bran was in pain again, that was the first thing she noticed, it wasn't an excruciating pain, more a dull ache in his back from the hardness of his wheelchair; she made a mental note to suggest a better cushion to him later. Jon was restless, ready to head to Castle Black and take his oath while Robb felt genuinely happy probably on account of his future wife. It was when the redhead turned her attention to her parents that things darkened. Her father was much calmer than her mother, she had waves of anger rolling off of her but there was something else, something at the end which gave her pause … fear. Why would she feel fear? Sansa looked again with her heart to confirm it and yes, that small note underneath everything was fear. For several moments Sansa couldn't think for the life of her why such an emotion would be leaking from her mother, there wasn't anything to fear, no armies attacking, no fatal wounds and her father had returned safely from King's Landing. Then it struck her, Sansa hadn't just disobeyed the wishes of her parents when she'd made for Mockingbird Island, she'd travelled unescorted over land and sea to a place she'd never been before filled with people she didn't know. It was only then that the seventeen-year-old finally came to acknowledge that literally anything could have happened to her on her journey there and back, she could have been set upon by bandits, pinned to the upper deck and raped by sailors then left naked and weeping, and even after making it to Harrenhal there was nothing to confirm she wouldn't have been harmed there. Guilt flooded Sansa's slender body, she'd taken so much for granted just guided by her want to search out her missing piece to the point common sense had fluttered out the window. Yes, Catelyn had every right to be angry with her eldest daughter for the fear she'd caused her.

"... all growing up now." Said Ned, only then did blue orbs open once again. "Soon all of you shall have suitors."

Arya groaned as was to be expected but Sansa, she cringed deeply because neither of her suitors were particularly appealing; adulterer or madman seemed to be her options.

"I won't marry Joffrey." Announced Sansa loudly before she realized she really shouldn't have said that out loud.

Everything stopped dead then, Rickon appeared oblivious but the others certainly weren't.

"Lass-" Her father began, voice gentle yet deep but Cat quickly cut him off.

"Sansa, you begged us to marry Prince Joffrey." Neither Cat nor Ned had ever been too keen on the idea but Sansa had insisted in her childhood. "It is too late now, you will be announce to marry Joffrey soon."

Well, I started it, I may as well carry on. "I shan't marry him, Mother. Never."

"Children, best you retire for the night." Said Ned calmly, a kind fatherly act to keep them from being sucked into the argument he saw coming. "Off you go."

So they did, Sansa's siblings and cousin were quick to leave; Jon pushed Bran's chair out of the dining hall. Thankfully their meals had been finished.

Silence hung in the air and if Sansa wasn't mistaken she heard her father sigh more than once in the space of just a few seconds.

"Sansa, you are the eldest daughter of House Stark and have pleaded to be wed to Prince Joffrey almost your entire life. If you had reservations you should have voiced them sooner and perhaps you could have been wed to Harrold Hardyng instead." This time it was her mother's turn to sigh. "It is too late, Sansa, you need to take responsibility. Besides, you have always wanted to be queen."

Not if it means I have to marry Joffrey, Sansa's mind was quick to add. She couldn't marry him. Had it just been that she didn't love him then things would have been different, many marriages between houses didn't come from love. However, things were different, she had Petyr, a soulmate who she'd not forsake, especially for a pathetic, abusive monster like Joffrey Baratheon; he wasn't even a real Baratheon.

"I can't marry him, Mother, I can't and I won't. My time at Harrenhal taught me that I do not desire the same things of my ignorant childhood. I am not a child any longer, Mother."

"You are a child, Sansa, everything you have done since that invitation to Harrenhal arrived has shown me just how childish you remain. I understand you have reservations about your marriage, even I did when my betrothed was chosen for me-" Ned raised an eyebrow "- but this is our duty and it is too late."

"Sansa, lass, I don't want you to wed Joffrey either-"

"Ned!" Cat cut him off once more but she went totally ignored.

"-but I am Hand of the King, I cannot pull you out of this now and I am sorry for that. The only way for your betrothal to Joffrey to be ended is for them to break it... and Joffrey seems quite keen on you."

"Father, I can't marrying him." Sansa stressed, almost pleading. "I don't love him, I don't even like him. He is belligerent and I have no desire to be bound to the Lannisters or the Baratheons. Robb is marring for love and while I was at Harrenhal someone taught me that love should take precedence; actually two people taught me that."

"Baelish." Her father growled; he really didn't like Petyr.

"He was one of them, yes." The other had been Oberyn, the way he'd spoken of his sweet Elaria had been so beautiful.

"You will never return to Harrenhal." Announced her mother vehemently. "Petyr Baelish was once a sweet boy but all of that changed in an instant as though he were someone else entirely. You shall not be seeing him again, I forbid it."

"You cannot forbid that. I am not your slave." Oh Sansa really shouldn't have said that either.

Suddenly Cat's eyes glowed with anger so strong Sansa didn't need to be an empath to feel it. Ned, meanwhile, looked as though he'd have liked to retire for the night and never speak of it again.

"You will not speak to your father and I in such a manner ever again! You say you do not wish to be treated as a child yet you continue to act like one. Go to your chambers, Sansa!"

With a huff Sansa shot from her seat and fled out of the dining room, she practically ran all the way to her room where she threw herself onto the bed to cry. They couldn't keep her from Petyr, they couldn't, she loved him too much.

~X~

That evening once her lady's maid had aided her out of her gown, into her night things and Winterfell Hall fell silent, Sansa slipped out of bed to her desk where she lit a tallow candle and sat to pen a letter. She needed to contact Petyr, not only did she feel a desire to vent her frustrations but to feel close to him; her mockingbird.

Her urge to be with him was so strong that she abandoned her desk a moment to retrieve the brooch from its hiding place underneath her bed. She'd need to hide her things better now her mother had forbade her from ever seeing Lord Baelish again.

With a longing sighs he gripped the silver brooch tightly and returned to her desk where she took up her quill only to dip it generously into the impossibly black ink.

My dearest Petyr, were her opening words, a clear indication of her longing to be in his arms once more. Sansa relayed the events since her return to Winterfell and her parents insistence that she now married Joffrey. She could understand that things had gone on too long and that Ned wasn't really in a position to reject Prince Joffrey now even though he wanted to, but for her mother to say she should have said something sooner devastated the redhead. Ever since her trip to the capital she had made her distaste for Joffrey no secret. Either her mother had blinded herself or just didn't want to know of Sansa's real feelings, that was how the seventeen-year-old felt.

She wrote quickly but neatly, spoke of her want to be wrapped up in his strong arms once again while he whispered sweet nothings into her ear but nay, he wasn't there so her brooch would have to do. A cunning mockingbird and a majestic wolf, they were a team now as well as soulmates. Oh she longed to be by his side, to feel complete once again.

Sansa's letter went on for some time, several pages in face, but once she was finished Sansa signed it with the words 'your ever loving sweetling' because that was exactly who she was. Petyr was her love, her missing piece.

With a smile an idea reached her then and Sansa went to get her perfume from her vanity. She took the top off the glass bottle and dabbed the smallest drop onto the page beside the word 'sweetling', just enough to make the letter smell of her without soaking the paper; after all she had the brooch and gowns to cling to while Petyr just had memories. Lastly she heated some wax over the candle and sealed it shut. Olyvar had made sure to supply Sansa with the address of Lord Baelish's brothel in King's Landing so the redhead knew it would arrive safely.

That was how Sansa's life went for several weeks after her return from Harrenhal, her father once again left for the capital and tensions with her mother faded somewhat. At least they had until Catelyn had noticed how many letters her eldest daughter had suddenly started sending to a particular brothel. Sansa had been confronted about it completely out of the blue one morning while she sat embroidering a handkerchief with a mockingbird – a gift for Petyr – and an argument ensued. Normally Sansa eschewed conflict with her mother because Catelyn Stark was a force to be reckoned with but her mother had no right to instruct the servants not to mail her letters to Petyr and furthermore order them to bring any that arrived from him directly to Cat. How dare she!

Fortunately Sansa had been quick to realize that Cat hadn't actually been able to read any of the letters just yet, if she had Sansa would have been in far more trouble. There had been yelling unbecoming of noble ladies and when overheard even Arya had known well enough to keep her mouth shut.

In the end – almost an hour of argument later – Cat had stormed out of the sitting room having thought she'd made her position clear and having forbade Sansa from seeing, speaking or even thinking of Petyr Baelish once more. If her mother just knew what keeping Sansa and Petyr apart meant then … well, her mother just wouldn't understand.

Regardless of what Cat wanted for her child Sansa was quick to think of a solution and so with Jeyne's aid – sweet, perfect, ever helpful Jeyne – Sansa managed to start sending her letters to Petyr again by the end of the week. With Jeyne and her servants acting as a proxy for Sansa and Petyr their correspondence resumed with her mother as nothing but a minor hiccup. Before she'd travelled to Harrenhal Sansa would have felt bad for going behind the backs of her parents but the redhead honestly couldn't face being separated from Petyr entirely.

With her father once again in King's Landing and Robb spending all his time with Talisa the elder redhead known as Catelyn had found herself very busy which had blissfully allowed Sansa to slip back into the shadows from the whole 'betrothal' situation, it had also allowed her to start searching for the sword of The North.

Rather quickly the seventeen-year-old had searched all the obvious and logical places such a weapon would have been kept but, of course, she'd not found anything even remotely like the swords Petyr had shown her deep in the bowels of Mockingbird Island. Intellectually she'd known that she wouldn't just stumble across the ancient sword laying about in a corner somewhere yet that hadn't stopped her looking regardless.

Having searched the main parts of Winterfell she turned her attention quickly to the more remote parts of her home. Winterfell, like The North itself, was remarkably large and stood proud, it wasn't as large as Harrenhal but both locations shared a stately graduate which dominated everything around them. Going through the entirety of Winterfell Hall, every nook and cranny, was not an easy task nor would it be a short one. At the very least Sansa had months of probing ahead of her, it was a daunting task but the redhead firmly believed that all seven swords needed to be together, hidden away where no demon could ever be put to death for the crime of having existed again. Sansa hated the missing feeling she'd lived with all her life, the same one Petyr had, he had told her of his siblings and how they'd likely never find a soulmate, of how demons had almost been hunted to extinction; she didn't want that to happen again, didn't want to lose her Petyr.

So search Sansa did, she managed to scrounge up an old map of Winterfell from deep within the library – a miracle if ever there was one – and she'd quickly decided upon searching each floor left to right as her best method. Oh it would take her forever but Sansa was determined.

~X~

Almost two months later Ned Stark once again returned home to The North. He'd greeted his children, gone for a ride with Robb and Arya, then shared an evening meal with his family. Night had fallen hours earlier and all the Stark children had retired to their beds hours previous so it was just Ned and Cat left sat by the fire with goblets of wine in hand. The fire was just what the bearded man had needed, a soothing warmth to ease his tired body after such a long journey from King's Landing.

"Perhaps we should go to bed, Ned, you look ready to pass out." Said Cat lovingly.

"Nay," he responded and took a sip of wine "I'm fine, just a little longer."

Catelyn gazed at her husband a short time as if attempting to decipher something, it was only when her brow furrowed that she spoke again.

"Is something bothering you? You've seemed a little … off since you got back. Has something happened?"

Ned chuckled because Catelyn had always just had a way of getting to the crux of a problem, he'd long ago learnt not to bother hiding anything from her; she'd figure him out sooner or later.

"It's Robert, he's growing paranoid that something is trying to kill him." Ned sighed. "Calls them demons. I think it is because of this old book Baelish had been paging through, Robert took it from him, wanted to taunt him for reading fairytales but I think Robert is more frightened of them than Baelish is."

Catelyn let out a hum. "Petyr fears few things. What did this storybook tell of?"

"Something about demons who the humans triumphed over by creating blessed swords or some such nonsense, Robert has been ranting about it to me. He suddenly seems determined to find them." Another sigh, deeper than before and followed by yet another sip of wine. "I managed to swipe the book when Robert wasn't looking, thought it would be better if he didn't keep hold of it. If he asks where it has gone I'd just claim I didn't know, his drinking has increased again so I'll likely get away with it."

Cat lifted a questioning eyebrow. "What did you do with it? Did you read this book?"

"No, didn't care to get embroiled in scary fairytales. I didn't know what else to do with it so I gave it back to Baelish. Took the opportunity to firmly warn him off of ever going near Sansa again as well."

"You threatened him." The redhead surmised.

"Threats are the only language that bastard understands. I tolerate him out of respect for your childhood with him but that man is a rat."

"I find myself conflicted." Mused Cat as she took a drink from her own goblet. "He was such a sweet young boy but that duel changed him, Ned, he became a new person. On the one hand he is always going to be as a little brother to me but after what happened with Sansa – she still refuses to speak to me of what happened on that island – I don't know what to think."

Ned's dark eyes finally turned to his wife, a comforting expression on his face. "I made my stance clear to him, Cat, he is to never go near Sansa again, never to write her a letter, nothing."

"Good. I do have one question though, what was Petyr doing with a storybook about demons? Even as a child he wasn't one for children's tales."

"Who knows, dear." Ned shrugged. "Demons don't exist, whatever these swords are don't exist. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all some ploy to increase Robert's paranoia."

Unbeknownst to the Stark parents Jon hadn't gone to his chambers but instead to train a while outside. Still, the night air had grown icy and his aching muscles had longed for bed but as he'd passed by the hall the word 'demon' had caught his attention. Lord Baelish may of not been one for children's stories apparently but this one had piqued Jon's curiosity.

"Such a silly story." He muttered to himself then headed off to bed.