Sansa had been in the sitting room for most of the day before the fire under the guise of finishing her embroidery, in reality she'd been a little sore since her impromptu rendezvous with the Lord of Harrenhal; a peaceful sit down was in order. Besides, Sansa had wanted to finish her embroidery for a while now. She'd made Petyr a handkerchief of course but she thought something a little more decorative would be a kind gesture as well so she'd turned her hand to a little needle painting and tried her hand at a mockingbird. Sansa doubted she'd ever be as talented as her mother but it was still to be a beautiful piece crafted with love.

Sansa had just started to detail the bird's tail feathers when her mother entered the sitting room clearly intent on speaking with her eldest daughter. The younger redhead felt her mother's presence instantly, she'd gotten used to her gifts and had come to be able to focus on a person or persons at will. Her mother, though heavy with determination, wasn't waited down by anger so Sansa assumed she wasn't about to be yelled at, but nor was there anything uplifting like happiness as Catelyn grew closer.

"Sansa, dear, may I sit with you?"

The teenager was tempted to shrug but knew her mother didn't deserve that, if she wanted to be treated like the young woman she was then Sansa needed to act like it.

"Of course, Mother." She gestured loosely to the chair opposite her by the fire but didn't look away from her work.

Catelyn sat herself down softly, made certain her dress lay neatly and rested her hands in her lap as she regarded her daughter a moment or two. She could remember the day Sansa was first laid in her arms, oh how proud she'd been.

When the silence lingered on just a little too long Cat took a deep breath and got to the point; not that Catelyn Stark had ever been one to beat around the proverbial bush.

"Sansa, I understand that you wish to marry for love, I wished for the very same thing at your age as I'm sure every other noble lady has." Well this is going to be awkward, muttered the inner workings of Sansa's mind but Cat just carried on. "No woman is truly pleased with an arranged marriage. I had doubts myself but I will admit that I was so fortunate with your father." And Uncle Brandon, Sansa mentally added. Cat leant in closer. "I say this because I want you to know I understand but at the same time I want you to be safe. Whatever Petyr said to you it isn't true, he doesn't love you, I'm not even sure if he's capable of love at this point."

Sansa's whole body tensed, went rigid and for a moment her breathing may have stopped. Of course Petyr loved her! He'd always love her! Yes, Sansa knew their relationship had been so fast in its development but they were soulmates, soulmates, it wasn't too fast it was just fate. The redhead appreciated her mother's concern but it really wasn't needed; explaining why wasn't really an option though.

"I remember the day he arrived, he was so small and innocent, Petyr hardly had anything to his name. Petyr and I were really rather close despite me being older than him and for a time I thought of him as a brother and a best friend." Cat sighed. "Yet, as we grew older it became clear that Petyr had other feelings for me. He loved me even though I never loved him in that way and was betrothed to your Uncle Brandon at the time. There was a duel and I pleaded for them to forget the whole thing but both of them were so stubborn, all I could do was make Brandon promise not to kill Petyr and even that almost didn't happen."

Sansa resisted the urge to point out that it had happened, that the Petyr Baelish she'd grown up with wasn't the same one Sansa had fallen in love with. Her Petyr had taken over that child's body upon his death, nothing remained of that boy who'd loved and fought for her. The redhead opened her mouth to speak – needle painting forgotten about for the time being – to shift the subject but Cat just carried on speaking oblivious to the invading realities.

"Petyr changed after that duel, for a few minutes I was convinced he had died. There was something darker inside him afterwards. Bizarrely he also became right-handed as well, our Septa had done all she could to correct him being left-handed but he'd refused, he just couldn't use his right hand and then suddenly it was as if he'd been doing it all his life. It made no sense." There was a pause then where Cat disappeared into her memories and Sansa felt the wave of uncertainty flutter from her mother. "I don't want you to get hurt, Sansa, but Petyr holds a grudge and this is some strange kind of revenge or to sate some kind of inappropriate desire."

"Not everything is about you, Mother!"

Sansa snapped abruptly before she knew she'd said a single word and Cat's eyes went wide because until recently her eldest had always been the perfect lady. Sansa instantly regretted everything, her mother hadn't deserved such an outburst.

"Go to your chambers, now!" Catelyn demanded, her voice harsh and anger dripping off of her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout." Sansa tried but her mother was having none of it.

Cat thrust her finger towards the door in a sharp point. "Now, Sansa Stark!"

The redhead shot to her feet suddenly needing to be alone and left the sitting room, needlework in hand. Sansa really hadn't intended to shout, it hadn't been fair.

Meanwhile Catelyn sat in her chair seething while she stared into the fire. She was outraged, had no idea what had come over Sansa, what Lord Baelish had said to her. Cat sighed, this wasn't good. She waited for most of the afternoon just waiting for her husband to return and when he did she practically descended on him. As soon as he spotted the look on his wife's face Ned sighed and fell into a chair in the parlor knowing it would be a long conversation; it had been such a carriage ride home and he'd rather liked the idea of just sitting down for a while on something which didn't wobble so he could take in some peace and quiet. Still, his wife had something to say and he learnt long ago not to deny her.

Catelyn sat herself beside him on the navy chaise lounge much as she had earlier when sitting with their daughter.

"I don't know what has gotten in to Sansa, my love, but I do not like it, I do not like it. How could Petyr use our girl to for such a horrid, spiteful action. He is surely only doing this to get to me, surely he is only using Sansa. I hate that she can't see that, his sweet words and charming smiles have blinded her to the truth. I've always known Petyr to be many things but never thought he could be so cruel. He has Sansa thinking he's in love with her."

Oh Ned could have rung Baelish's damn neck! He'd known the unhealthy attention towards his wife but to turn his perverted attentions towards his seventeen-year-old daughter was something else entirely; amoral, lacking scruples and utterly deplorable. Despite that Ned had faith in his girl, he didn't blame her for not wanting to marry Prince Joffrey, he didn't want her to marry Prince Joffrey but there wasn't any getting out of it now.

Lord Stark sighed, a deep, guttural sound well harnessed from years of being Hand to a drunk king. Robert had been a good man once, a man full of love and nobility but after Lyanna's death something inside him had broken and he'd never been the same.

"Sansa is a smart girl, she's had her adventure, her excitement, and is sure to calm down now she is away from him. Once she marries Prince Joffrey she will once again see her destiny to be queen as she's always wanted and return to the Sansa we knew before she defied us and went to that Godforsaken island."

Though Ned tried to assure his wife he knew it was just that, him attempting to placate her. He hadn't lied when he told Catelyn that Sansa was a smart girl, she was very intelligent but also naïve and much too kind-hearted which could cause her to be easily led.

"She's still refusing to marry Joffrey." Grumbled Catelyn though Ned knew she wasn't too pleased on the betrothal either. "Had it been any other lord we could have gotten her out of this since it hasn't been formally announced but Joffrey is a prince. Sansa has to learn to take responsibility, Ned, she is the one who pleaded with us for years to be wed to him and now she refuses because Petyr smiled at her."

Lord Stark ran a large hand down his face. "You're worried she'll bring shame to the family?"

"I'm worried that she will end up alone with no prospects, this is what Petyr's attention is doing to her." Bemoaned Cat. "I tried speaking with her about it earlier and she yelled at me, she has never once raised her voice to me in such a fashion."

"I'll kill him." The bearded man growled more to himself than anybody else but still his wife heard it and frowned. "Cat, this is just a phase brought on by the merciless ploys of a rat."

Though Ned tried to sound convinced Catelyn certainly wasn't but she said nothing regarding it. The two were essentially on the same page but there wasn't much they could do save for wait. Lord Baelish was far away in King's Landing while Sansa was safe at Winterfell Hall.

Meanwhile word of Sansa's abrupt screaming had finally made its way from the servants to Arya and Jon who had quickly become eager to know more; well, Arya had, Jon just wanted to make sure Sansa was all right.

"Aren't you normally the good girl?" Asked the younger Stark daughter as she just waltzed into Sansa's chambers with Jon behind her. "Screaming at Mother doesn't strike me at a 'good girl' thing to do."

The dark-haired man moved to stand at the foot of Sansa's bed while she stared out her window at the grounds and Arya just flopped down onto her sister's bed. Sansa didn't even glance at the pair, just continued to stare the needle painting still in her hands because somehow letting go made her fell as though she'd let Petyr go.

"What were you arguing about?" He asked softly.

"It doesn't matter, it's not important." Somehow she didn't think Arya and Jon would be quite so understanding in her plight as Robb magically had been. "Just that I don't wish to marry Joffrey."

Arya snorted. "No, you have older tastes now."

"Says the one in love with a bastard blacksmith!" Sansa snapped, her head turned from the window to say more but she stopped herself.

Since her outburst with her mother Sansa had been thinking and had ultimately determined she was just sick of being ridiculed, treated like a stupid child and ignored when it came to her love for Petyr. These were the feelings which had caused her horrid words to her mother and her sister, they hadn't deserved being yelled at but nor had the redhead deserved their judgement.

Arya's face grew dark with anger then fear when she looked over to Jon but it quickly faded when she decided he'd never say anything about Gendry to anyone; he was too good for that.

Blue eyes grew weary, why couldn't she have been the second daughter? Arya could get away with just about anything so surely if she'd been born second then Joffrey wouldn't have wanted her to begin with and she could be with Petyr. Sansa sighed deeply, there was no point in wishing for these things to change, it wouldn't happen.

"Excuse me." Said Sansa as she set the half-finished needle painting down on the dresser by her window and turned for the door.

"Lady Catelyn said you had to stay in your chambers." Jon pointed out when she passed him.

"I don't care."

Arya perked up then and sat up on the bed so she could dangle her feet off the edge. "You're still looking for that secret room, aren't you."

The dark-haired man lifted an eyebrow. "What secret room?"

Sansa finally turned back to her family, they were going to have to explain to Jon now because, just like Arya, he'd not let it go.

"I found a document in the library," Sansa began with the same lie she'd told her younger sister, "it spoke of a secret room or crawl space or some such here at Winterfell. I know all the passages and yet have never found a secret place so I wanted to locate it."

"I'm helping." Arya was quick to announce.

Jon stared at the sisters a short moment as if gauging something important but what that was Sansa didn't know. He was guarded when it came to his feelings and Sansa had difficulty reading him compared to others, it wasn't like with Petyr and Oberyn where she just found herself with a brick wall, but it certainly wasn't an open book either.

"All right," started their cousin, "I'm just curious enough to help you look. I don't actually have any other plans for today and it would be nice to see if this mysterious secret room or whatever it is really exists. Where shall we look first?"

That was a good question, Sansa hadn't discovered anything yet.

"I found something." All eyes turned to Arya. "It's a weird room just off from the kitchens, I didn't get a good look around and when I asked the cook she didn't know anything about it."

Maybe her endeavor wasn't as fruitless as Sansa had started to believe. A fluttering of hope filled Sansa and the trio quickly hurried down to the kitchen for a better look at whatever this room Arya had found was. They were probably quite a sight to the kitchen staff, the three of them rushing around; it wasn't every day both Lady Starks and their cousin wandered around the servant areas. That and the girls for once were not bickering amongst themselves.

When the servant seemed to lose interest in them Arya quietly led Jon and Sansa to a disused storage area where she pointed to a crack in the back wall. Sansa quickly pressed her face to the tall yet narrow crack, it was dusty, unnecessarily so, but behind the wall did appear to be some kind of room. Jon quickly made himself useful by moving two seemingly long forgotten about crates out of the way. Behind it he found a loose brick and after a few minutes of working it loose he managed to pull it and three others free. The gap he made was crooked and awkward but provided just enough room for Sansa and Arya to crawl through; Jon pondered it a moment but soon thought better of it and didn't even try.

Before Arya could say 'I'll go since you're dressed up all pretty' Sansa had started to cram herself through the break in the wall to see whatever lay behind. When she finally busted through Sansa stumbled to her feet and quickly brushed the cobwebs from her dress while Arya shuffled through as well.

Sansa's cerulean eyes peered around the claustrophobic basement room, it was void of anything but dust and spiders. It became instantly apparent to Sansa though that it wasn't what she'd been looking for, it wasn't thousands of years old, probably no older than fifty. Part of the west wall had collapsed rather badly letting the roof partially cave; it really didn't look stable. It was a hidden room all right but most certainly not hiding the covered secret Sansa had been searching for.

"I was hoping for something more." Grumbled Arya as she too cleaned off cobwebs. "It's dark in here."

"I think we should leave, the room could come down at any second and I don't think Jon can get many more of the bricks out even if he wanted to."

Arya hesitated and moved further into the room, not that there was much space, the girls could hardly stand an arm's length apart.

"There's really nothing in here?"

"No, just cobwebs and rot." Sighed the redhead. "I think we should go back, it's dangerous in here and I can hardly breathe for the dust."

Arya didn't look as convinced, always the one to linger in dangerous places for little more than her own amusement but that was when Jon poked his head through the hole – all that would fit – and acted as their voice of logic and reason.

"This isn't safe, I can hear creaking. Come back through to this side now girls." He instructed, voice deep.

Both knew Jon was right so they gave up on their search of whatever this tiny area was and instead just obeyed their cousin's concerns and squeezed themselves back to safety; their cousin was even kind enough to haul the rest of Arya's lower half back when she got herself stuck.

"I don't think that was intended to be a secret room." Sansa told her sister and cousin while they pushed themselves to their feet. "Looks more like it was all part of the same storage room at one point and grew damaged so it was walled over rather than anybody trying to replace it. That would explain why the space is so very small and empty."

Jon's brow furrowed then as a dim and distant memory struck him. "Hang on, when Robb and I were young there was a terrible storm and so much water. I vaguely remember masons being around for about a week after that, people coming in and out of the kitchens."

Arya looked back at the damaged wall. "I guess they could have just repaired what they could and covered up the rest."

That fluttering of hope which had managed to come to life inside her ended then, for a moment she'd really thought she had finally found the sword.

"I'll have to keep looking." Lamented the eldest Stark girl.

From nowhere Jon rested a strong hand on her shoulder. "We will help you look. I'm not sure why you seem so focused on this but it is a mystery and it will be something for us to do together. We do things together so rarely any longer, I know I'm just your cousin but-"

"Don't be stupid, Jon." Arya cut him off. "You were raised with us and you might not have the name of Stark but you're more our brother than our cousin."

"She's right Jon, you know we love you."

Sansa wrapped him in a hug then that Arya quickly joined and Sansa could feel the happiness and love bleed from him. The hug was nice – more than nice, lovely even – but those strong arms around her weren't the ones she already longed for once again.

The three looked around a little longer after that just to make sure their guess as to what the space had once been was correct before they headed back to to the upper halls of Winterfell where they were almost instantly set upon by Septa Mordane who quickly set to chastising them. She'd basically given up with getting Arya to stay clean or even look remotely like a noble lady was intended to be but the same was not true for Sansa. The redhead quickly found herself scolded for being so filthy and essentially ruining her pretty dress with scuff marks, dust and cobwebs, then Mordane glared daggers at Jon before she accused him of encouraging everything; Jon may have been taller, younger as well as stronger but he still gulped at Septa Mordane's harsh eyes.

"... unseemly for a young lady and future queen."

"Not marrying him." Sansa huffed to herself but the Septa still heard it.

"Off with you Arya, take your cousin with you and stay out of the kitchens." They escaped quickly which left only Sansa who quickly had her arm grabbed by Septa Mordane so she could be tugged towards her bedchamber. "Your mother said you were to stay in your chambers today. And of course you shall marry the prince just like you've wanted since the first day we met all those years ago."

The Septa carried on with her speech of how wonderful life would be, of how she knew her duty as the eldest of Lord Stark's daughters, the entire way and by the time Sansa was once again in her bedchamber she had grown exasperated; people telling her she acted like a child or was throwing a tantrum only made her angry which then made them tell her she was throwing a tantrum more, it was an wicked cycle.

"You need to stop being so childish, Sansa." The Septa fumed. "Start thinking of your future lest you end up a spinster because if you keep going on like this the king shall have no choice but to revoke his offer of betrothal between you and his son."

"I will not end up like you!"

Oh that stopped everything and for what must have been the third time that day Sansa had said something she probably shouldn't have. Septas and Septons were celibate not because they were unloved but because of their vows. The elder woman opened her mouth to say just that and tell Sansa of how hurtful her comment was but never got a chance.

The redhead yanked her arm free of Mordane's grip – which wasn't that hard, she'd not been clung to very tightly – and rushed to her unfinished needlework so she could at least feel some closeness to her beloved demon.

"Never touch me again." Sansa ordered.

The words weren't said with malice nor spite but a wall of fear flooded deep into Mordane's very soul and left her staring at Sansa as though she were a wolf ready to pounce. Sansa felt this sudden change and turned to look back at the other woman with puzzlement, it had been an almost unnatural change, and when she did Mordane unconsciously backed away from the teenager. Then she was gone, the open door the only indication she'd ever stood there to begin with.

Silently Sansa closed it then went to perch on her bed all with the needlework in hand. She took several breaths to calm herself as she tried to determine what had just happened.

"Did I do that? I wanted her to leave me alone so did I somehow manage to make her feel scared enough to run?"

Petyr had mentioned that it was possible for her to do so it wasn't a ridiculous thought. Either way Sansa hadn't intended to terrify the woman, she'd just wanted people to stop talking about how her life would be with Joffrey once she stopped 'acting like a child'.

The redhead made a mental note to question Petyr on it in her next letter. In a way she was a little afraid of what she'd just done, she hadn't pressed emotions on others before nor had she intended to cause terror; she wasn't a bad person, she didn't want everyone to fear her. The teenager had no idea even how she'd managed to do it but it must have been her, one moment Septa Mordane had been irritated with some other minor emotions swimming around inside her and then she'd been nothing but total fear as if faced with Death himself.

"Maybe I should write that letter now."

With hardly a pause to set her needlework down Sansa went to her desk and began to right while the wax heated. She wrote of what had happened, how it had been utterly unintended and actually ended up scaring not just Septa Mordane but Sansa as well. She made sure to ask if there was anything he suggested to stop it happening again as well, Sansa didn't need people running away in terror for no reason every time she wanted to ask them something or just gave them a smile. However, when Sansa paused to think about it running away in terror for no reason did sound like a good way to get rid of Joffrey if he showed his face to her before Petyr and Margaery were done with their plans to end Sansa's betrothal to him.

When the letter was finished and sealed she slipped it into a second envelope bound for the Poole estate and a short letter which apologized for the abruptness but asked Jeyne to see it posted to Lord Baelish in King's Landing post-haste as it was an emergency.

Petyr was what he called an Exhort, he implanted thoughts and ideas in people's heads to the point he could practically control the weak-minded, compel them to do almost anything, so Sansa had to assume she could do something similar with emotions. It was only then Sansa realized just how naïve she was to the nature of demons despite how much Petyr – and Oberyn – had taught her. Even Armeca had mentioned the way Petyr could always just let her know he needed her presence despite them being in two totally different areas of Harrenhal. Regardless of how Sansa had managed to accidentally torment the Septa she knew she needed to control it, there was no desire in her to change what people felt.

After a couple of calming breaths she summoned a footman to take the letter then looked down at herself, she was a bit of a dusty mess but certainly not as bad as she'd seen Arya some days. Just then a light knock Sansa recognized as that of her lady's maid, Claudette, sounded at the door and the teenager let her in.

"Forgive me if I am intruding, milady, but Septa Mordane sent me to help you change. Might I ask what has upset the Septa, milady?"

Sansa shrugged, probably best to pretend it was news to her. "I'm afraid I have no idea. I'm sure she'll be all right though."

Claudette left it at that and instead went to Sansa's large wardrobe. The redhead peered over her shoulder for a short moment at the array of dresses in soft pinks, lilac and so many colors Sansa now thought of as adolescent. Maybe the first step towards them not treating me as a small child is to start dressing like a woman?

"Which dress would you like to wear for dinner, milady?"

Sansa was quiet a moment as she hurried to her bed and pulled out the box hidden there which prompted her lady's maid to look around at her.

"This one." Announced the seventeen-year-old as she stood and lay the dress softly out on her bed.

Petyr had given her the dress as her 'battle dress', it was an adult outfit which had shown her to be the powerful woman she truly was rather than a child playing dress up or a whore with no taste.

"... Em, milady, perhaps it isn't entirely appropriate for dining with your family?"

"Oh I think it is perfect. Help me dress please."

It wasn't the servant's place to argue further so she didn't, just obeyed Sansa and helped her into the cerulean dress. The golden embroidery was stunning for sure and screamed wealth without being ostentatious or showing off, a lovely gown really but made Sansa look like a woman and not an unmarried teenager as her parents liked to see her.

As her petticoat was slipped over her head Sansa couldn't help but think of how she missed Armeca, she hadn't been the perfect lady's maid but Sansa suspected that wasn't usually her job. Armeca had been good company and someone Sansa could be open with about her demonic nature. Yes, Lady Stark missed the olive-skinned woman. Maybe when I am finally Lady Baelish I can ask Petyr for her to be my lady's maid permanently.

Once dressed the teen sat to have her hair re-braided and the cobwebs which continued to linger removed. The entire time Sansa couldn't take her eyes off herself via the mirror, not because she was vain but because this was how Petyr had always seen her and treated her, like she were a powerful woman who was capable of anything she set her mind to, like his soulmate.

When finally finished the lady's maid left rather quickly while Sansa went to her balcony to look out over the snowy landscape she called home. It truly was beautiful but everything looked muted without Petyr there to hold her; the dress would have to do as a substitute. The empath liked Harrenhal, it had been stunning and a little mesmerizing but the northern snow always held a serene charm to it. She sighed feeling torn, on the one hand Winterfell Hall and the North was her home, where her family resided and always would but at the same time she yearned for Petyr and the salty air of Mockingbird Island.

Having depressed herself a little Sansa tried to distract her mind by taking a seat and mentally scouring the entirety of Winterfell, apart from the stables – which Arya had searched – and the gazebo Sansa had looked everywhere on the estate for the sword, there wasn't anywhere else for her to look. Once again Sansa was left wondering if Petyr had been mistaken and her ancestors had hidden the sword somewhere else. Seven Hells, it could have been over the Wall or at the bottom of Long Lake for all she knew. Her great-grandfather had ordered the gazebo construction so it was more than likely pointless to check there, also it was much too out in the open.

She had about an hour and a half until dinner was served and Sansa was already dressed so she had time to think for a new hiding place and think she would.