Eventually, as it did every other night, dinner rolled around and still determined to wear her 'battle dress' Sansa headed down to the dining hall. As soon as she entered a wondrous warmth of the roaring fire it caressed her skin, soothed Winterfell's icy chill but that wasn't what everybody else's attention, not by a long shot. Her sister, Bran and Robb actively stared at her, so did Jon when he entered the hall not ten seconds behind her. The gown wasn't whorish, covered everything it was meant to, but it was indeed unlike anything else Sansa owned. Far more grown up and confident, the sort of thing Cersei or Margaery would have chosen. Sansa looked between Jon and Arya fully aware of their smiles, Arya's coated her face because she knew their mother wasn't going to exactly be pleased when she saw it while Jon was just happy to see Sansa looking happy again.
Dinner was the one thing that even Arya knew to dress appropriately for, despite how much it pissed her off and she tried to skirt around what she could. Rickon, bless his little heart, hurried to his elder sister and grabbed hold of her skirts with his tiny hands, he was so young and sweet; still her baby brother even if they weren't the same species.
"Pretty dress." Giggled Rickon which prompted Sansa to ruffle his hair before he returned to his seat beside Robb on the right hand side of the dining table.
The redhead made her way to her own chair then, sat herself down between Arya and Jon on the left with her back to the fireplace as she always did; back straight and ladylike as were the traits which had been drilled into her.
"Where did such finery come from, I wonder?" Robb asked with a smile.
Arya looked her sister up and down. "Oh I doubt that is all that much of a curiosity really."
"It was a gift, a very beautiful one." Explained Sansa while they awaited their parents.
Robb hummed because he wasn't stupid and quickly took her meaning. He'd promised to help his sister but only on the condition that he met Lord Baelish and sized him up for himself and, since that was yet to happen, he was still sceptical and suspicious of this brothel owner. He was not only the eldest son but the eldest child of House Stark and he would damn well protect his family even if it was from themselves or perverted old men.
Nobody got to say anything more because it was that moment that Lord and Lady Stark entered the dining hall. Cat quickly apologized to their children for having kept them waiting so long but ground to an abrupt halt when she spotted Sansa's dress.
The redhead sat there shamelessly because she had no reason to feel shame, it wasn't as though she'd just shown up in only her slip, her gown wasn't inappropriate nor vulgar simply different from those she'd always been given to wear. Sansa couldn't be a child forever, she wanted to be an adult who could wear what she damn well wished. Had wearing the garment not made her feel as though Petyr had wrapped himself around her she may have backed out of the plan long before she'd made it to dinner but everyone had seen the dress now and Sansa was proud to wear such a wonderful dress.
Amazingly her parents said nothing as they took their seats, Ned at the head of the table and Catelyn at his side with Rickon flanking her. The staff served them their evening meal of roast pheasant and made certain none of the Starks ever found themselves looking at an empty glass.
Sansa knew she was getting questioning expressions, could feel the displeasure practically drip from her mother like sap from a tree along while Arya's amusement grew.
"That is quite the detailed dress, Sansa, expensive as well." Said Catelyn once they were well into their meal.
Sansa nearly sighed, she'd heard the criticism which lingered in her mother's voice. If she actually did marry Joffrey the gowns he made her wear would be much, much worse. Her mother probably would have passive-aggressively criticized even if she'd been gifted it by someone they thought noble like Harrold Hardyng.
"It was a gift, so she says."
Sansa made a quick and sharp mental note to thank Arya for her complete lack of tact and help later on. They'd been getting on rather well as of late so clearly they were overdue for some huge fight.
Cat lifted an eyebrow. "A gift?" The 'from Petyr' went unsaid.
"Yes," Sansa confirmed, "a gift. A very thoughtful one as well."
The redhead really wanted the subject changed so turned to her eldest brother with a 'help me' expression and Robb kindly took pity on her.
"Father," Ned looked up "when shall you be returning to King's Landing?"
Ned Stark wasn't dumb, far from it in fact, he knew exactly what Robb was doing but would rather not have had dinner turn into an argument so he let Robb get away with it all.
"The end of the month, son. Do not worry though, I shall return in time for your wedding to Lady Talisa. I would never miss it."
"I know, Father. Surely the end of the month is too soon though." Robb paused to sip from his glass. "You only just arrived home and Winterfell is never the same without you."
"Believe me, my boy, I'd like to stay longer as well but I am King Robert's Hand which is a time consuming occupation as well as a prestigious honor. Of course living within the Tower of the Hand and dining in the Small Hall is not nearly as pleasant as this, it is worth while to serve my king and friend."
Bran hopped in then after he'd swallowed a bite, clearly intent on keeping the subject off of his elder sister as well; Bran had always been the genuinly kind one of the family.
"Hopefully she's not to startled by the cold here, I mean the North and Volantis are two very different places."
Rob chuckled. "My fiancée is made of stronger stuff than that, Bran."
The conversation continued much to Sansa's gratitude, she'd not wanted to cause further argument between herself and her parents.
When dinner finished Rickon and Bran were sent off to bed while Arya wandered off with Jon as was their usual way. Robb lingered the longest since he could sense what was likely to come but soon took the hint from his mother and left claiming he wished to pen a letter to Talisa. Next came Sansa's attempt to flee from a conversation she truly didn't want to have, she stood, bid her parents a good night and tried to leave the dining hall and dwindling fire but Ned verbally stopped her.
"Lass, we need to speak."
Sansa sighed, an all too common occurrence these days, and sat straight back down. Her parents hadn't left their chairs and she doubted they would until they'd had their say. Silence lingered for a moment before her mother broke it with a surprisingly calm voice.
"It was Petyr who gave you that dress, wasn't it." It truly wasn't a question and Sansa knew it.
"It was, yes." The teenager needn't deny it.
Ned wiped a hand over his face. "And why do you think he gave such a fine gown to a teenage girl?"
Though his voice remained level and calm and Sansa hadn't meant to snap but still she had, just couldn't help herself.
"If I hear that everything that Petyr says to me is because he is in love with mother one more time I may actually go insa-"
Cat cut her off with an outraged hiss. "Watch your tone, Sansa, we raised you better than that."
Sansa really needed to get some control over her temper, it was worse when around her mother that was for sure. Is it possible I'm accidentally tapping into her own anger, fear and irritation? That it is some how causing me to say things I wouldn't normally say then fuelling a conflict between us all? Just as with her letter to Petyr regarding what had happened to Septa Mordane, it was only speculation but as good a speculation as any other.
"I apologize, Mother, I do not wish to begin an argument. All I would like is for you to realize that love can change just as people can. You loved Uncle Brandon before Father, your love changed."
"That rat does not love you, lass, he is only seeking to get something out of you." Her father tried to reason with her. "I'm sure you have enjoyed being flattered by him and feeling as though yu are now part of some secret for whatever happened at that forsaken island but it is all lies."
"He is a high lord, Father, not a rat." She turned to look at her mother sensing her next question. "And before you ask, no, I will not tell you of the reason people were gathered at Mockingbird Island." Blue eyes flashed back to her father, he'd always been the soft touch when it came to the Stark children. "Father, you said I could choose who I wed. I wanted to marry Joffrey so I could be queen I will freely admit, but it was a childish want so many girls share. I also know that ending my betrothal to Joffrey is something of a difficult task, but he is a cruel and barbaric child who only gains happiness from hurting those around him. Would you honestly marry me to him? Lord Hardyng would be a better match by miles and he is obsessed with whores and mistresses it would seem." Sansa paused only long enough to take a breath. "He is hardly older than I and already a father twice over."
Ned sighed, they'd had this conversation before and he fully understood his daughter's reasons for not wanting to marry that snivelling idiot.
"Lass, I understand, I really do. Could I refuse King Robert and wed you to another I would but I cannot, you have heard this before. Joffrey wants you and his father is my king. Besides, who would you have me marry you to if not Joffrey or even Harry the Heir? Baelish?"
He breathed out a laugh as though it was so totally outlandish but Sansa just nodded.
"Yes." Cat gasped at her child's response. "He is Lord Petyr Baelish of Harrenhal, a high lord, he is the Master of Coin and adviser. He is a perfectly agreeable match by any standards."
"You are not marrying him, your father is right, you shouldn't have to marry Prince Joffrey but you most certainly will not marry Petyr Baelish. Go to your chambers, goodnight, Sansa."
The seventeen-year-old had things she wanted to shout at her parents but she couldn't and forced to keep what she was no rarely certain to be her mother's anger from infecting her and causing spite to drip out from her lips. She hadn't intended to so oppose her family and should have just waited for Joffrey to break their engagement rather than arguing but she needed them to know she would marry Petyr, wanted them to understand but inside she already knew they'd not be able to comprehend what was truly going on. They'd never know Sansa wasn't human, that she was bound to Petyr who wasn't the same boy who'd fought and died for Catelyn.
With everything swirling around within Sansa's mind she didn't disobey, instead she calmly rose to her feet and left the dining hall without a word.
Left behind, the servants, having long ago cleared away crockery and everything else save for their wine glasses, had made themselves scares as well so only Catelyn, her husband and the fire remained. Neither of them spoke a word for a great many minutes and it didn't take an empath to realize neither were happy regarding their daughter's wants. The fire cracked and spat as the only punctuation to the quietude until, eventually, Catelyn put a stop to the wordless void.
"What could he have said to her to make Sansa think she loves him enough to want to marry him? Never did I before think Petyr could be so cruel, especially to one so young." Cat gazed into the dying fire. "All of this because she looks so much like me when I was young. I can still remember how sweet a little boy Petyr used to be."
Lord Stark was much less convinced Petyr Baelish had ever had a nice streak, all he'd ever seen from Baelish was plots and brothels. He'd not seen Baelish at the Red Keep recently either for which he was thankful because otherwise he was sure he'd have killed him. Fuck propriety and good manners, if Sansa kept on with this insane desire to marry Baelish then Ned was going to kill him.
Meanwhile Sansa had returned to her rooms and sat down on her bed to take a breath. Now she was away from her mother the anger had left Sansa, faded with each step.
"I must be correct, I need to learn between my emotions and those of others lest I react poorly." Sansa Stark was a demoness, not an animal.
The redhead wasn't entirely certain how long she sat there listening to her own breathing and the pitter-patter of her heartbeat but it must have been a while because when her lady's maid, Claudette, suddenly appeared in front of her face she looked both tired and concerned.
"Milady?"
Sansa blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry, I was miles away."
"Not to worry, milady, shall I help you out of your dress?"
The redhead nodded, wasn't like she could sleep in it no matter how much she'd have liked to. That was how her lady's maid ended up wordlessly stripping Sansa out of the embroidered fabric to ready her for the night. It didn't take long, the staff of Winterfell were very good at their jobs and once she was ready for bed Sansa thanked the other woman but she completely refused to let the dress be taken away to be cleaned because she had a deep fear that if it was her mother would get rid of it, burn it, do something to make sure Sansa never saw her battle dress again. Instead Sansa insisted that her maid leave it draped over the sofa and left, an order which was quickly obeyed.
"Goodnight, milady." Were the last words of the servant as she departed for the night.
As soon as she was gone Sansa returned the dress to the box she'd taken it from and then looked around for a new hiding place. Regrettably there wasn't really anywhere for it to be hidden but that didn't stop her looking harder and eventually she found the thinnest of gaps between her wardrobe base and floor. Ever so carefully she slid the shallow box further into the space until it was just out of sight and one would have to lay on the floor to see it. The dress would be safe there.
"I think I might be growing paranoid." She mused to herself but a voice in the back of her mind, which sounded an awful lot like Petyr, told her a little paranoia could be good for her.
The sun had gone down many hours previous, always did when winter approached, but Sansa wasn't quite ready to crawl into her bed just yet so she went to stare out from her small balcony. She wondered how tall a tower she'd need to construct before she could see Harrenhal even with a telescope, a silly thought but being able to see him did sound wonderful. However, Petyr didn't appear to actually spend that much time at Harrenhal, mostly he resided in King's Landing dealing with his brothels and being Master of Coin. For the smallest of moments the teenager wondered if she should have been concerned by Petyr's brothels but ultimately supposed that in the capital it was the same as any other business really, probably more profitable actually, and Armeca had said Petyr's brothels were far more reputable and well maintained than others. In retrospect Sansa probably sounded like someone justifying to make herself feel better.
Sansa settled down for bed for some sleep only for a knock at the door to sound. Begrudgingly, the redhead slipped out of bed and threw on her robe before answering the door where she found herself faced with a still dressed Jon.
"I'm sorry, Sansa, I didn't mean to wake you. I just, I just wanted to talk to you about what happened at dinner. I didn't go with Arya, I listened by the door, I wanted to make sure you were all right." There was a hesitant look on his face.
At first Sansa was irritated, it was late and she'd already had enough arguments for one day but then he added 'I just want to understand' and Sansa's thoughts softened. Her parents had tried that, they'd just made conclusions and gone with it, although, Jon was not her parents. Quietly she ushered him inside and closed the door, he went to sit on the stool at her vanity table while Sansa perched on the end of her bed with her hands rested on the footboard.
"... It was like love at first sight." Sansa eventually said while she stared at her hands. "Petyr is a very charming man and, while I won't pretend he's kind to everybody, he's kind to me. He does everything to get what he wants but I know exactly what he wants from me."
Jon lifted an eyebrow. "That is what everyone is so worried about, Sansa. Even the servants know about his sudden interest in you and they are concerned as well. Nobody in the North seems to like him."
"It's not sex he wants." She told him quickly; even though the sex really was good. "It's a companion, someone he can have debates with and just exist with."
Eternity could be lonely without someone to love.
"So say he does wish to be with you for some more noble reason, why do you want to marry him? You are young and could be a queen."
Sansa groaned loudly. "Why does everybody think being queen is the most important thing?" Besides, Petyr could always make me one.
The teenager was grateful for Jon's attempt to understand, just as she had been for the conversation she'd had with Robb, but it had become a little disparaging to have to explain again and again.
"Petyr Baelish did something that Prince Joffrey or Harrold Hardyng could ever accomplish... he made me happy, he made me feel powerful and intelligent, cared for and loved. Petyr showed me just how much I'm capable of and I am thankful to him for that. He's not what you think he is. I got to know the people invited to Mockingbird Island surprisingly well, bit Petyr is the only one I think I'd trust."
"He's not to be trusted, cousin, you've heard your father." Jon stressed.
Sansa nearly rolled her eyes, surely she'd had this conversation a dozen times by now.
"I know that, but I know how his brain works now and what he wants so I know what he'll do."
Jon ran a hand down his face. "Doesn't change that he's too old and-"
"And what?" She cut him off with a sleepy irritation. "A hundred years ago Robb wouldn't be allowed to marry a girl from Volantis. If that no longer applies why should the fact Petyr is older than I am be an issue? It's not like Aunt Lysa being shoved into marring Jon Arryn, this is my choice and I choose Petyr." A note of sadness had settled in her voice.
"I see your point." He sighed. "And while I don't agree that he can be trusted or that he's somehow a nice person, I can understand why you would choose him. You've always been different, there's something … other worldly about you."
The redhead paused at that, she'd never stopped to think that others would notice that she wasn't human, even in such a minuscule way. Then again, Jon was her cousin and he'd admitted that he felt like an outsider among the Starks.
"What will you do if they force you to marry Joffrey?"
"I don't want to make things harder for Father but I won't be marrying Joffrey, something tells me he has his eye on Margaery Tyrell rather than me."
"They do say she's beautiful." He was quiet a moment. "I don't want you to suffer, Sansa. I talked to Robb and he mentioned that he'd spoken with you as well, that is why I came, I wanted to understand as well and it looked like my answer is love. I can understand you just want to be with the one you love."
She smirked at him. "Are you going to take the same stance as my brother now you know I'm not just a silly girl with a crush?"
"I think I'll do just that." Jon rose to his feet. "You think your parents are displeased with you but at least you chose a hight lord, wait until they find out about Arya's blacksmith."
That got a real smile out of the redhead, she knew Jon still didn't understand despite what he'd said but at least he'd tried and she was grateful for that. She ushered him out then, she wanted to sleep and was thankful when he took the hint and left Sansa to her peace.
It took her several minutes to get herself settled among the covers again but when she managed it and set her head on the soft pillow she tumbled into sleep instantly. In hardly a split second Sansa found herself walking along a hallway she'd never seen before. When these strange dreams had happened before Harrenhal they'd been vague Sansa had tried to ignore them but now Sansa craved them.
The familiar pull tugged her forwards and she practically skipped down the halls of Harrenhal towards her goal dressed only in her chemise. The floor was icy but Sansa's bare feet hardly noticed, not when she was filled with the warmth of love. While Sansa's truth was hidden to her parents, siblings and cousin she needed to do no such thing in the imposing castle known as Harrenhal. When with Petyr she could simply stand before him even stripped naked and say 'here I am' and Petyr would continue to adore her. Lord Baelish didn't care what another's lips had to say about the redhead, he already knew everything important.
At the end of the shadow engulfed corridor Sansa reached a large door which she pushed open quickly eager to get inside. There she was met by the demon's back as he gazed solemnly out into the night as if the weight of the world lingered on his shoulders … for all Sansa knew it might have.
"I felt you coming." He said and stretched a hand out for her to take.
Sansa practically fell into her lover's warm embrace, let him wrap her up safely. It was as if her very soul calmed and happiness filled her again on a level that could only be achieved by the presence of one's soulmate.
"You have been upset, my love, I felt it a couple of hours ago." He ran his fingers through her hair. "You must have been angry. What is wrong?"
Sansa sighed into his chest. "My parents refused to let me marry you." That got him to raise an eyebrow. "I still have to marry Joffrey."
Petyr tightened his grip but didn't let a single shred of irritation at the mention of Joffrey's name filter into his voice. "I don't remember proposing, but when I do it shall be to your face in the real world."
"Propriety dictates you ask my father first." Sansa snuggled in closer.
Petyr hummed. "Indeed but I already know his answer and asking suggests I actually respect his opinion."
The blue-eyed beauty looked up at him then, her expression hesitant for the first time since she'd arrived. "He's still my father, Petyr."
"I know, Sweetling, forgive me. I love you."
"I love you as well."
She kissed him, softly at first and then it deepened, grew deep and heavy; Sansa delighted in the way he always tasted of mint. He lifted her into his arms and carried Sansa slowly to the bed, their lips locked in passion the entire time. His sheets were silk, soft against her pale skin as he pushed up the skirt of her chemise to reveal those perfect thighs to his hungry eyes. So beautiful, so perfect, so very his.
It didn't take long for Petyr to spread her legs and kneel between them at the edge of the bed. The high lord basked at the sight of her pink lips and clitoris. She was dripping for him and Petyr had only kissed her, he nipped at her thighs knowing he was the only one who'd ever get to see Sansa's true beauty. Gods, the sight of her practically left him drooling. Without wasting a single fragment of a second, Baelish gripped Sansa's thighs, lent in and licked slowly along the entrance of her core. The redhead's flavor was sweet like honey, ambrosia for a demon. He flicked his long tongue at her clit and circled the tip of his tongue around it and with that Petyr's need to eternally be able to taste his soulmate took over, he dove his tongue into her sex. Sansa moaned and clawed at the silken sheets which only drove Petyr on in his quest to make his love orgasm so hard she forgot her own name. He was addicted. So wet, so intoxicating.
"Oh Petyr." She gasped and an animalistic growl escaped from the back of his throat.
Close, she was close, he could feel her start to shiver with the first tingling of her impending euphoria and the green-eyed demon was determined to tip her over the proverbial edge.
"Petyr, more!"
As if he could ever deny her. His talented tongue slipped back into her wet heat. He pulled each new breathy moan from her lungs, delighted when her fingers finally released the sheets in favor of grasping his salt and pepper locks at the root.
Sansa screamed out his name when she came and wasn't the sound of his name on her lips heavenly; somewhat ironic a thought for a demon.
Petyr's erection strained inside his breeches so much so that he thought he might finish before he could enter her. What sort of a lover would Baelish be if he let that happen? He managed to coax her tight grip away from his hair and started to kiss his way up her stomach to her neck while he shed his breeches enough to free his hard length. Then, with an electric shudder at the feeling of his length against her entrance.
"I love you." She moaned as her arms wrapped around his neck to bring him in for another kiss.
Petyr grasped her thighs and hauled her to him and finally entered her. "I adore you."
His thrusts were hard and fast, full of need and want, full of his intense desire for her. Petyr groaned when he sunk into her, their bond wrapping them both in wondrous rapture. The demon bit deep into his lower lip to prevent himself from simply ravaging her supple body right then and there.
Soon Sansa's legs started to tremble with building ecstasy, his rhythmic thrusts grew erratic as they approached their climax. Petyr wasn't a virgin before Sansa, not by a long shot, he'd fucked whoever took his fancy for most of his life, but nothing would ever compare to the way his soul came to life when he touched her, tasted her.
"Petyr!" She screamed when ecstasy erupted behind her eyes and that was all he needed to have him spill inside his demoness.
Lord Baelish rolled onto his back beside her while their lungs sucked in air. Sansa was sore but that didn't stop her pushing herself onto her side so she could snuggle into him, a hand rested lovingly on his scarred chest. The scent of sex and mint engulfed Sansa and she knew that no other scent would ever comfort, calm or bring such happiness to her.
Neither of them spoke for a great many minutes, just got their breath back and basked in a stereotypical orgasmic bliss. Gone were Sansa's worries about Joffrey and her parents, as were the hated, unending moments of her being without her sweet Petyr. No, there and then, even though it was one of her soul-drifting dreams, Sansa Stark was happy.
Silence couldn't dominate forever though and eventually the pair found themselves speaking of Sansa's progress, or lack thereof, in finding the last sword.
"My sister did find a collapsed section which had been bricked up, I actually thought I may have found it for a moment but no, just a section of the kitchen storerooms which were easier to cover up than repair."
Petyr pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head as his arm tightened around her. "Not to worry, Sweetling, there isn't any need to panic."
"But what about King Robert? Furthermore, you said that Margaery would convince Joffrey to marry her but last I checked she is still wed to his Uncle Renly."
Sansa didn't even care that Margaery was willing to take another woman's betrothed out from underneath her, Sansa had no desire for Joffrey so Margaery was welcome to him.
"We are demons, my love, and as such we do not do things quickly. No, we take our time to gather everything we need and then strike. Demons see time differently to mortals. Besides, you will not have to worry much longer."
"Why?" She asked as blue eyes flicked up to his green ones.
Petyr smirked in that way of his. "Because Robert was skewered by a boar this afternoon during a hunt. He's not long for this world, my dear." Sansa's mouth fell open. "If I were you I'd not be surprised to find your father left in the night for King's Landing. I bet you anything that Cersei is irritated the boar got to Robert before her people did. She truly does hate him and Robert has gotten very good at closing his eyes to things staring him in the face." Baelish twirled a lock of red hair around his fingers. "There are he increasing rumors of Joffrey's illegitimacy, of him being Jaime's son, which is of course true – you're father is determined to reveal it – so soon enough Stannis and Renly will start fighting among themselves and Renly will surely fall first. As soon as he does Margaery will make a move for Joffrey the new king and you will never wed him. You remember this though, no matter what happens, you never return to King's Landing or the Lannisters will never let you leave."
"I figured that out quickly, Petyr." He smiled at her, clearly proud. "I won't go back."
"Good." The demon fell silent then and let the nothingness take over a short while before he solemnly spoke again. "My love, I need you to know that your father is playing a dangerous game now. He plans to claim Joffrey illegitimate and as soon as he does Cersei will have him killed … and there is nothing I can do about it."
Sansa's whole body went rigid and through their growing bond he could feel her terror.
"Queen Cersei would kill him?"
"To hide that Joffrey is the son of her brother, yes, assuredly so. She is a smart woman, though she hasn't realized I am not human she knows of my extreme talent for making people do as I tell them just by speaking so she rarely lets me near her. I won't be able to change this, Sweetling."
"You have to!"
He cupped her cheek, expression more gentle than anybody else ever saw. "I would like to but I can't. He'll have to stop on his own."
"Then I'll tell him to stop." Said Sansa.
"And I pray he listens to you."
Truthfully Petyr cared little for Ned Stark and Petyr's life would be much easier with him gone, but he hated the idea of his sweet girl loosing her father. She'd been raised by humans, she was far closer to her parents and siblings than Petyr could have ever been to his own and though he couldn't help Ned – even if he could have he probably wouldn't – he could prepare her, help her to be emotionally strong enough for the way Westeros would change by the turn of the century. 1800 would bring new kings, great cities would lay in rubble, and many a noble houses would find themselves extinct.