The sun was high in the sky signalling noon when Arya had burst into her sister's room and promptly dropped down onto Sansa's bed with a deep huff. Sansa, who had been reading a book at the time, just stared at her younger sister a moment with a raised eyebrow; Sansa could do without Arya going on another tirade about whatever had upset her this time.
"I've just seen the dress I'm gong to be shoved into for Robb's wedding." Grumbled the dark-haired girl. "It's awful."
Sansa closed her book, knew there wasn't much point in attempting to read while Arya was around.
"I'm sure it cannot be that bad." Sansa sighed.
"It is! It's horrid and I hate it, Sansa." She sat bolt upright then, her brow furrowed deep. "I'm not going to wear it."
"Arya, I know you like to pretend you're Jon most of the time but this isn't about what you like or want, it's about our brother. He's getting married so maybe you could put up with it for just one day."
That stalled her younger sister's complaints to a dead stop, she wanted to carry on arguing – by the Gods did she – but Sansa made a good point, she'd not be crammed into the dress for her mother's sick amusement but because it was her brother's wedding day.
The dark-haired girl let out a long breath. "I suppose you're right. It is just one day after all."
"Exactly," agreed Sansa "just one day and then you can go back to breeches and unladylike things."
"Just because you're obsessed with being the perfect lady." She stopped and smirked up at the redhead then for a second, so conniving that it almost reminded Sansa of Petyr's smirks. "Or perhaps you aren't now you've been to Harrenhal. What exactly did happen there? Spent a lot of time with Lord Brothel Owner I imagine." Unlike her mother's probing that of Arya came with much more mirth and the younger Stark's attempt to deride. Arya continued. "You may not have said anything but I can see something is different about you, you're … more grown up somehow. You don't … like him do you?"
"And what if I do?" Replied Sansa far more defensively than she'd intended as she hugged her book closer.
"He's old, Sansa, when I thought that he had a son to marry you off to it was weird enough but him? Jon overheard Mother and Father talking a few nights ago, apparently Father threatened Baelish, told him to stay away from you." Sansa's eyes widened, she hoped her darling Petyr hadn't been harmed but supposed demons were made of sterner things. "Then there is the whole thing with the king."
Sansa lifted an eyebrow. "King?"
"Jon said that King Robert is getting paranoid and that he thinks demons are after him or something, got hold of some pool of Baelish's and is acting strange now."
The eldest Stark's heart skipped a beat, the last thing she wanted was the Baratheons and Lannisters knowing about demons or the swords. Suddenly she became more focused on finding The North's sword, only then would no demon ever find their soulmate murdered.
"Arya, you heard this from Jon who overheard bits of a broken conversation between our parents. Who knows what is really going on. Demons don't exist and I doubt King Robert is going to be swayed by an extract of a book he knows nothing about."
Arya just shrugged. "Eh, I don't really care. Thought you would though, when Robert dies Joffrey will be crowned king and you will be his queen. You have always wanted that."
"I grew out of that way of thinking a long time ago and you know it."
The dark-haired girl looked her sister up and down a moment or two with suspicion. "Maybe, but you seemed fairly set on either Joffrey or Hardyng, not any longer though. Please tell me you don't want Baelish. I'm not joking now, you can't want him, surely, he's a brothel keeper and only out for himself. Father hates him."
Sansa sighed, she could hear that her sister's amusement had faded to concern and was grateful for it but it was totally unnecessary.
"You don't really know anything about him though, do you?" Began the redhead slowly. "Mother hasn't seen him in years and Father has never liked him because he grew up with Mother. Yes, he owns brothels but that isn't his defining feature, Arya. Petyr is a high lord, he is King Robert's Master of Coin." She listed. "He is a wildly intelligent man, cultured and funny, charming when he desires to be. I-I find I can be myself around him without judgement or fear of what Mother would say. He is the first man who has every actually listened to what I have to say and more importantly he is willing to take on board my ideas. He is-"
Arya cut her off with an unimpressed sigh. "You have fallen for him, haven't you. I won't pretend to understand love but I do know that it can be faked. He could just want you for access to something else."
Sansa shook her head. "No, I won't lie, he lies, he plots but and I have not known him long but I have learnt he will not lie to me. You may think that a naïve stance and I can see why you would, but... I feel as though I have known him all my life." The seventeen-year-old looked to her sister then, dead in the eyes to carry weight. "Have you ever found something which makes your very soul soar? Something which makes you feel complete?"
"No." Replied Arya in a softer tone than was normal.
"I hope you do because it is a wonderful feeling, a miraculous one. Noble women do not get to marry for love, we both know that, but I hope I can sway the minds of our parents. I love him, Arya. Petyr is a high lord, it is a good match."
"Not as good as marrying a prince," Arya pointed out "or the heir to the Vale of Arryn. You say you love him but can you really know he loves you?"
"I am not a child any longer, Arya, I understand that this looks like the swooning of a young girl for a handsome, charismatic and powerful older man but yes, he loves me. It is plain to see in his eyes."
The younger Stark girl chuckled to herself then and finally rose from Sansa's bed. "Whatever you say, good luck convincing Mother."
Then Arya Stark was gone leaving Sansa once again alone in her chamber unsure if baring her heart to her younger sister had actually been a good idea at all.
Soon Sansa's internal monologue turned from her conversation about Petyr and back to King Robert, surely Petyr couldn't have wanted Robert of all people learning about demons, no she'd have to ask him exactly what had happened in her next letter. They couldn't have the Baratheons and Lannisters reach a point of searching for the swords it would most certainly not end well for anybody.
~X~
After a single letter Sansa had learnt of exactly how Robert Baratheon had come to read tales of demons; the king had swiped one of Petyr's new acquisitions when he'd not been looking, an unusual slip of attention for Petyr. Of course Petyr had assured her that even if Robert went looking for the swords he'd never find them and Sansa believed him, she'd seen how well hidden they were. Still, if he went looking it wouldn't be long before he knocked on the doors of Winterfell and Ned Stark couldn't deny his king. The last of the seven swords needed to be found and needed to be found soon.
The redhead returned to her search with no real luck not when she had her mother pulling her away from the task to sew with her or aid in the preparations for Robb's upcoming nuptials; the way Catelyn was going one would think nobody had ever gotten married before. It wasn't until she'd been introduced to the dress she'd be expected to wear that Sansa had understood Arya's objections, her dress wasn't ugly per se just disturbingly pink.
Lord Baelish's next letter – which Sansa collected on a trip to visit Jeyne – informed the teenager that King Robert had indeed looked for the swords only to discover there wasn't any trace of them in the Red Keep and so had turned his focus to Dorne, having assumed they must still have theirs. The man with ash at his temples had gone on to talk about how Oberyn had been growing increasingly frustrated. Sansa hated it, Robert had led a rebellion and taken the crown so what would he do for a collection of mythical swords fashioned from rare materials and designed to murder immortals? Sansa shuddered to think.
Before leaving Sansa wrote another long letter to Petyr assuring him that she'd find the sword long before Robert came looking; after all Oberyn would keep Robert busy if needed. It was only then that Sansa realized they'd formed a little group that now had eyes over the length of Westeros; the North, Dorne and King's Landing with Petyr's informants lurking over the rest of the continent and probably into Essos and even Sothoryos. Was this how everyone else at the conclave had felt, like their fingers and knowledge snaked over all known territories?
When Sansa tipped the green sealing wax on to the envelope and pressed her seal into it Jeyne reappeared with a plate of lemon cakes as well as a grin of glee. Quickly Sansa handed the letter off to a servant so it could be dispatched and then the two girls promptly devoured the sweet treats and giggled about this and that; basically allowed themselves to be teenage girls for a while rather than the noble ladies their families demanded. The girls chit-chatted about this and that, ate an unnecessary amount of lemon cakes, and eventually went for a stroll in the gardens while they spoke of far away places they'd like to see with their own eyes. Eventually though, as they sat by the large fountain, Jeyne started to ask questions of Harrenhal and Petyr. Fortunately for Sansa since her return Jeyne had mostly questioned Harrenhal's supposed haunting but with each new letter Sansa and Petyr sent to one another Jeyne grew more curious; the redhead couldn't blame her friend since she'd have done exactly the same had roles be reversed.
"... I haven't ever met Lord Baelish but you seem quite smitten, San. Shall I expect my wedding invitation?" She teased with a light chuckle.
Sansa sighed while the fountain water splashed. "Oh my mother has no intention of letting that happen. If she gets her way I'll either be married off to Joffrey or left a spinster."
Jeyne rolled her eyes. "It cannot be that bad. You hate Prince Joffrey-"
"Doesn't seem to matter apparently." A smile settled on her lips when she remembered what Petyr had said about Margaery moving herself to be queen. "I don't think Joffrey will be marring me though, he'll get distracted soon enough."
"Surely if that is true you could wed Lord Baelish. From what you've said he sounds like a handsome older man who genuinely pays attention to you."
Another sigh. "When Joffrey gets bored of me my parents would rather marry me to Lord Hardyng, basically anybody but Petyr. My father essentially hates him and my mother thinks he's in love with her."
"Well, maybe-"
Jeyne got cut off then as a footman appeared only a few steps away from them back-lit by the sun; cute was probably a good way to describe the blond man.
"Lady Jeyne, forgive the interruption but your father has requested your presence."
"Of course, thank you, Jaymes." She turned her eyes to Sansa. "Excuse me."
Then she was gone, escorted by the footman, Jaymes apparently, and Sansa was left alone by the fountain. The sun had crested the sky so she'd soon need to return to her carriage and Winterfell Hall, if she got back after dark her mother would undoubtedly have words to say of the 'you need to be more responsible' variety. Still, that was a way off yet so Sansa just sat and let the sun bath over her skin. She wondered if Petyr could feel it, maybe not but he hoped he could feel how content Sansa felt, how relaxed and happy.
~X~
With Robert Baratheon now aware of the swords and apparently believing they truly existed Sansa had redoubled her efforts to locate the last one. She'd gone through almost all of her map with absolutely no hint of a hiding spot and actually started to wonder if the North's sword had been hidden somewhere other than Winterfell; Petyr had seemed so certain though. Still, after so long of searching Winterfell Hall top to bottom her hope had started to dwindle.
The longer Sansa searched for the practically magical sword the more she got chastised for disappearing all the time by both her mother and Septa Mordane. Neither of them liked Sansa's new found absences here and there at utterly random hours, especially when she then flat out refused to tell them what she'd been doing. What was the teenager supposed to say to them though? Oh it's all right, I'm just looking for the last in a collection of mythic swords so King Robert or his so-called son cannot try to start up a demon purge ever again. I'll just grab it, hand it over to Petyr and he'll hide it in this secret cavern under Harrenhal. Yes, that seemed like a totally terrible idea and she would have much rather just taken the grumbling then carried on.
The eldest Stark girl continued her search though as in her mind she really had no choice and it wasn't very long before Arya started to notice her elder sister's wandering through the halls suspiciously. Arya had always been the observant one in the family, she noticed things most would overlook or just entirely ignore deciding it was unimportant – reminded Sansa of Petyr in a way - so it shouldn't have been a surprise when Arya decided to follow Sansa.
The youngest daughter slowly crept after her sister, down halls and staircases to areas of Winterfell Hall they rarely thought of let alone visited. The redhead vanished around a fairly narrow hallway and Arya was quick to shuffle after her only to round the corner as well and find her sister gone, nowhere to be found. With her brow furrowed deeply Arya slowly stepped further along the hall wondering just where Sansa had vanished to, she shouldn't have been able. Halfway along the corridor Arya paused and rested her hands on her hips as she huffed; where in the Seven Kingdoms had Sansa disappeared to?
"Why are you following me?"
Arya practically jumped out of her skin as she spun around to face her elder sister, a hand rested on her chest to keep her heart on the inside.
"How did you do that?"
Sansa shrugged. "You're not the only one who can be sneaky, Arya." And being an empath really was useful for letting one know when others were around. "Why are you following me?"
With her breathing having returned to normal Arya stared up at Sansa just as curious as she had been before her fright.
"You're acting weird." She finally answered. "Keep running off like you're looking for something. What are you doing, Sansa?"
"What are you doing writing all those letters to that blacksmith we met in King's Landing?" Sansa shot back, not with anger just an attempt to shift the subject.
"... I don't." Grumbled the dark-haired Stark.
"Yes, you do. I'm surprised he can read and write, he should be proud of that."
"I taught him. The letters help him get better." Said Arya before she realized she'd been distracted.
At that Arya became convinced her elder sister was hiding something and demanded to know what it was, even went so far as to threaten to go get their mother should Sansa continue to deny it.
Sansa sighed. She couldn't really tell Arya the truth, not when it sounded so outlandish to begin with. The redhead also knew that her sister wasn't likely to drop it though, Sansa knew Arya too well for that, so something needed to be said. A lie, a partial of the truth perhaps.
"I- I found a book in the library that mentioned a secret room somewhere in Winterfell and I wanted to find it. It's a mystery and I want to solve it."
An emblazoned grin burst on to Arya's face as she faced an exciting mystery. "I'll help! I'll help you find it, I want to know what is inside."
Sansa already knew exactly what would be inside the room or whatever kind of hidey-hole it turned out to be. Having two sets of eyes would be somewhat helpful though, would cut her search time in half, she couldn't let Arya get it in to her head that there was some kind of treasure inside though.
"I don't know what will be in there, it could be empty save for cobwebs now."
"Or it could be gold and jewels hidden centuries ago, guarded by a skeleton gripping a scroll."
Oh yes, Sansa would have to make sure to keep the sword out of Arya's sight should the younger Stark find the hidden place.
"I'm going to go search the stables."
Sansa lifted an eyebrow. "Why the stables?"
"Well if you were going to tide a treasure and didn't want it to be found the stables is a good spot."
With that Arya charged off to go search for what she had clearly already decided was a great room full of gold squirrelled away by one of their ancestors. It was easier to let Arya believe what she wanted Sansa supposed, as long as it kept her sister pacified for a while. Sansa knew Arya wouldn't say anything to their parents or Septa Mordane as long as she though she in on Sansa's secret. The redhead lingered in the hall a moment trying to figure out if her sister was still lurking via the emotions she have off – that was how Sansa had known she was being followed to begin with – but nothing came, Sansa was alone.
Pleased she'd gotten rid of Arya for a while Sansa turned her attention back to the task at hand. Where would I have hidden a sword all that time ago? She'd asked herself that question many a time since returning home and each answer she'd managed to come up with had led her to nothing except for once when she'd found a poor dead rat. Suddenly Sansa's eyes widened as a thought struck her, the great fireplace in the dining hall, it was one of the eldest things within Winterfell Hall and hadn't been touched or even repaired since long before Ned's grandfather had been born.
"As good a place as any." She muttered to herself then hastened off.
~X~
When night fell Sansa joined her family – sans her father – for dinner and was delighted when nobody mentioned Petyr Baelish or her trip to Harrenhal once; she was further pleased that Arya said nothing about their conversation in the hall. However, she'd have rather the topic of conversation hadn't been so upsetting. Ever since his accident Bran had been different, he'd fallen so far and lost the use of his legs so depression was to be expected but now he'd come to terms with what had happened; Lord Tyrion's designs for a saddle had aided his outlook tremendously as well. Despite Bran's slightly more positive outlook he was still troubled and shortly before Sansa had left for Harrenhal had started to have censures, fits where he spoke of seeing three-eyed ravens and things which weren't there. Physicians had delivered Catelyn and Ned with the tragic news that there was nothing to be done about them save for sitting with him and waiting. The doctors could do little to help him and the rest of the Starks had felt just as useless. Sansa hated it the most, when the censures came now she had to excuse herself to try and distance herself from the pain her brother felt.
That afternoon while Sansa had been searching through the dining hall fireplace – a total waste of time as it turned out – another of the fits had struck Bran, one which had lasted far longer than any other he'd had to date. Sansa made a mental note to ask Petyr if there was anything to be done from a demon's point of view.
The redhead politely refused dessert since she didn't have much of a sweet tooth until it came to lemon cakes, and made her way to her bedchamber to pen another of her letter to Petyr which she'd hand off to Jeyne. It was as she sat at her desk that she noticed the small mark of soot on the bottom of her skirts; she sighed.
Sansa got out her writing things and quickly set some sealing wax to melt over a candle then dunked her quill into the ornate pot of ink and started to write.
My Petyr,
Regretfully I have no good news in regards to the sword's location for you. I have searched much of Winterfell Hall and have determined that the sword is either in the most obscure and well hidden of places or has been laid to rest somewhere else in the North. I know you were so positive that it had to have been here but I have found myself starting to wonder if that is true.
My sister, Arya, has taken to following me during my search it would seem, I am not certain if today was the first time or if it was just the first I had noticed but I had to tell her something so settled on a partial lie. Lying using the truth, I hoped you would be proud. I told her that while in the library I had come across an old book which spoke of a hidden room or some such and wished to find it for myself. Arya was suspicious as she always is but I believe she took what I said as truth because she now insists on trying to help me. While I'm not convinced this is exactly a good idea it would greatly improve my chances of locating the sword before King Robert decides Dorne and your brother are not worth his time and comes here instead. Anyway, even if she does find the sword she will not know its level of importance and it will be rather easy to get it away from her should she wish to keep it; my sister can be easily distracted when one knows how.
It is best to let my sister help, should I refuse her she will only complain to Mother and with Father being away in King's Landing – with you I expect – it is easier to search Winterfell. Father notices my thoughts and feelings better than Mother does, who knows perhaps he has some demon in him after all
My mother and Septa have noticed my seemingly random wandering of the halls as well and while not as suspicious as my sister they have started to question me. Worry not, my love, I will say nothing of our nature nor the swords to any of them. They would likely think me mad even if I did.
I miss you greatly, Petyr. At first it was bearable knowing I had the brooch you gave me and that I was loved, but the longer we are parted the harder it becomes. To have someone who so understands me now so very far away. I truly do miss you. I long to be wrapped in your loving embrace once again as you bestow one of those rakish smiles on me which I have become fond of. Promise me we shall be together again soon. Please promise me, Petyr. The tug I feel via our connection sates me for now, calms my soul, but nothing will ever be as good as your strong arms around me. Now I know what I really am I see the differences between myself and the rest of my family even more strongly. I love them of course but that does not stop me longing for you. I miss your voice when you call me sweetling, your smirks, the way your hands leave my skin warm. Oh please promise me I shall be with you again soon.
All my love,
Sansa
As she dripped wax onto the envelope to close it Sansa couldn't help but wonder if she'd started to sound needy. Needy was not how she wished to come across but unfortunately that was how she felt, she needed to be embraced by her Petyr once again. Felt as though she'd found her other half only to be forced to discard it again. With what her beloved had said about Lady Margaery it was almost a given that she'd not be forced to actually marry Prince Joffrey – which had been a weight off her mind – but that didn't stop her parents handing her off to Lord Hardying instead. Sansa wouldn't marry Harry the Heir, she refused, all the Gods couldn't make her, but that didn't mean Ned and Cat wouldn't try. Didn't matter though, she knew Petyr wouldn't ever allow it, not after he had waited so long for his redhead. Yes, all Sansa had to do was be patient and wait, that was all. They said patience was a virtue, but the young demoness had started to wonder if patience was mocking her.