Upon waking Lady Sansa's maid informed her that her mother had requested she join her for a ride that morning, so Sansa was dressed appropriately in her navy riding habit since refusing wasn't really something the redhead had the luxury of. Once dressed Sansa's hair was styled neatly and her riding hat pinned in place. When the seventeen-year-old stopped to think about it she'd not been riding for quite some time and poor Lady probably felt neglected.

It was only as she headed down the stables that Sansa remembered her conversation with Petyr during the night. King Robert would be dead soon and possibly so would her father. That thought didn't just send a shiver down her spine, it chilled her to her very core. How could everybody just carry on oblivious to the murder and danger that closed in? Birds tweeted in the trees, clouds glided through the sky, no one and nothing took notice. Petyr had said he'd not be able to stop her father's death should Ned expose Joffrey's illegitimacy but surely he'd figure something out; Petyr was a smart man. That hope was the only think which kept Sansa from bursting into tears as she entered the stables and spotted her mother.

Determined not to think about it any longer – place faith in her father seeing the danger – she headed to her beloved Lady, a stunning Lipizzan that Sansa had always adored. The stable hand had already saddled Lady and just as Sansa went to settle herself atop the horse – riding side saddle was never comfortable. Her mother, Lady Catelyn, had dressed head to toe in a shade of green so dark it was almost black.

"Good morning, daughter, forgive my lateness I was delayed. Your father has been called to the capital as-"

"King Robert is injured." She finished for her mother and Cat lifted an eyebrow.

"How did you know that?"

Sansa petted Lady's mane as she thought quickly. "News travels fast amongst the servants."

Thankfully that seemed to satisfy her mother and she mounted her own horse so the two could take their ride. With Robert injured – and that was putting it mildly – Cat mostly spoke of how the crown would be eager for Sansa's betrothal to be formally announced and the wedding scheduled. Though she'd have rather told her mother to stop Sansa didn't bother, knew it was useless to complain and that she'd not be marrying Joffrey anyway; better to hold her tongue and let Cat think what she wanted.

After a while they reached the weirwood tree, dismounted their horses and stared back up at Winterfell Hall, or at least Sansa did, Cat just watched her daughter as though she'd been expecting far more argument.

"You've changed your tune remarkably since yesterday." Cat pointed out.

"Well, I realize the future is already planned, Mother, and I have decided to let it come true." Or at least to some extent she had. "My marriage was chosen for this family, not for myself. I had a conversation last night which helped me realize I cannot fight my future."

Catelyn let out a little hum. "Yes, Jon mentioned he'd spoken with you though didn't go into much detail." Of course you can think I mean Jon if you like, sighed Sansa's mind. "I am happy to hear you have come to your senses, Sansa. You have begged to marry Joffrey for so many years. I know you have grown into a beautiful young woman since then but this is to better your station, Sansa, not just for me or your father – we don't care about that as other Houses do – but for your children."

Her children? To any man other than Petyr Baelish she'd be barren, she'd only bare Petyr's children and Sansa had absolutely no issue with that.

The elder redhead cupped her daughter's cheeks then, a loving touch. "We mothers will do just about anything for our children, Sansa, even when they don't believe it is good for them. You will learn that when you have your first child."

Sansa could see her mother's point but knew it would never be Joffrey's child she protected.

The horses continued to graze side by side underneath the shining sun, Lady's bold white a stark contrast from the rich chestnut of Catelyn's mare; like night and day or say a demon and a human.

"As for Petyr." Sansa resisted sighing, were they still on that subject? "I can see why you'd be so taken with him, he's always been charming and charismatic when he elects to be. Even now he is as a little brother to me. You're Aunt Lysa has always been fond of him."

"A little too fond according to Petyr." She grumbled without meaning to and instantly earned a sideways glance from her mother.

"He spoke to you of our childhood together?" She enquired. "Him, Edmure, Lysa and myself?"

"Some." Sansa shrugged. "Mostly of how he doesn't care for Aunt Lysa's … devotion."

Even the elder woman had to agree that was right, Lysa had always been a bit too much.

"Yes, he's never really hidden it and Lysa refuses to see his lack of interest unfortunately. As I say, I know he can be charming and I truly don't wish to hurt you, my girl, but he said he was in love with me when we were young." Catelyn rested a hand atop Sansa's shoulder. "If he showed interest in you I honestly fear that is not a noble or good thing. He is very different since that duel, he grew darker and while I do still view him as a brother of sorts, I worry about what he is capable of."

This time Sansa couldn't prevent the sigh slipping out. "I know you're worried about me and I thank you for your care but when even was the last time you saw Lord Baelish?"

"Oh not for many years now."

Blue eyes flicked to where her mother's hand rested on her shoulder. "Then is it not more likely I know him better than you? I spent almost every waking moment- " and some sleeping "-with him and have learnt a great deal."

The elder redhead's brow pulled into a deep frown and for a moment she looked as though she'd give her daughter a lecture but of shouting or anger her mother carried on at a normal volume. Somewhat suspicious.

"And what exactly has Petyr taught you?"

There it was, the worry in Catelyn's eyes that Sansa's sweet, innocent brain had been corrupted.

"He taught me I am no longer a child, that I am intelligent and have every right to be." Sansa smiled just thinking about him made her smile. "He showed me how to be more confident in myself and not back down just because I am a woman. I feel more empowered and now I know what I am capable of."

Realization flashed through Cat at that, "Ahh, he made you feel grown up, that is where this little infatuation comes from."

Infatuation, Sansa mentally repeated, is that what Mother is calling it now? Sansa had just admitted to how adult she felt now and there was her mother likening her feelings for Petyr to a childish crush. Sansa bit her tongue as best she was able. It hurt to be away from Petyr, it physically hurt.

Cat took her daughter by the hands than and looked her in the eye. "I hate it when we fight, Sansa. I love you, you know that right?"

Sansa nodded, that was one of the few things Sansa had never needed to question in her life. Her parents loved her, that would never be in doubt.

"Yes, Mother, and I love you as well."

Much to Sansa's pleasure Catelyn dropped the subject mostly after that and they continued with their ride, it seemed neither of them had the energy to further the conversation.

~X~

The hour was almost unimaginably late but Baelish's work was almost never done, brothels took a huge amount of upkeep otherwise he'd have whores getting ideas above their station and customers beating the crap out of merchandise. That was what had kept the green-eyed demon in his office at the brothel so late, he'd almost finished the accounts and as soon as he had Petyr planned on falling into bed and passing out for a few hours.

All was silent save for the occasional flickering of the candles around him, enough to see by but certainly not enough to vanquish the shadows which ruled over the corners. He'd been enjoying the quietude – silence could often be a better soundtrack to life he'd found – when the door was thrown open without so much as a polite knock and Olyvar, sans shirt, walked in then flopped into one of the two chairs opposite Petyr's desk.

"Not now, O-" He cut himself off when he peered up from his work and a knowing smirk rested on his lips. "Oh, hello brother. Using Olyvar's body for something other than sex I see."

While Sansa was an Empath and Petyr an Exhort, Oberyn's gift was much more invasive for he was an Infiltrator, someone who could – for lack of a better term – possess a body for a while. It was always a little odd to see Oberyn's mannerisms coming from Olyvar's body but it wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Well, I'm very familiar with Olyvar's body so he's the easiest for me to use, besides it's always nicer to see your face rather than bothering with all those boring letters, you know, even if it isn't actually my face."

While Oberyn teased in Olyvar's voice Petyr quickly concluded that he'd need a drink for whatever Oberyn wanted to prattle on about. He poured them both a generous glass of dark amber, handed one to his twin then returned to his chair.

"You could have at least put a shirt on the boy?"

Oberyn smirked, one of those bog grins of his that said he wasn't ashamed in the least, the ones he was known for and Petyr had seen it on many faces before.

Petyr hummed in disgruntlement rather than agreement, he'd never shared his brother's interest in men.

"What do you want, little brother?"

"Well, Elaria wants me to invite you to Dorne for some fun since she was unable to attend the conclave with me, my daughters miss you, especially Tyene, you know how fond of you she is. I missed you as well." Oberyn chuckled before he took a sip of his drink.

"We saw one another two months ago." Petyr pointed out clearly not as effected by their separation as Oberyn made out to be.

"Yes, and before that it was six years not including letters. I'm allowed to miss my twin aren't I?"

Petyr lifted an eyebrow. "You? No, you always have an ulterior motive."

Oberyn shrugged off Baelish's suspicions. "I'd hardly call a brotherly chat an ulterior motive."

The elder twin clearly wasn't impressed. "With us it is."

"You just miss your little redhead, I don't blame you, Petyr, she is a very pretty blossom. You are amazingly lucky to have one as lovely as her, brother mine."

"As if you'd trade Elaria for anyone else, you can fuck whoever you like but there's only one you love."

Oberyn nodded in agreement with his twin. "Since when were you so poetic?"

"I'm full of surprises." Petyr shrugged as he took another swig of his drink.

The Dornish prince snorted, an odd mannerism on Olyvar's face. "Yes, that's usually the problem most people find when it comes to you, Petyr."

The brothel keeper gathered his documents together back into the book they'd come from then set it neatly to one side, there was no point trying to write when his little brother was around, while Oberyn continued.

"You need to relax, you have finally found your other half, you should be joyous and yet here you are in a darkened office going over finances. You're going to be immortal like me. She's yours, you know it, I know it and sweet Sansa Stark clearly knows it. Why not just wed her?" Said Oberyn in Oly's voice like it was simple. "It's not like you care what people think of you and then you'd have her by your side always."

Petyr lifted an eyebrow at his twin, Oberyn wasn't stupid but he wasn't one for the bigger picture.

"She isn't like us, Oberyn, we took these bodies when the human inside died, everybody around us isn't family. We are the fox amongst the chickens." Baelish sighed. "Sansa though, she was born to that body, to that family, they are her mother, father and siblings. No matter what I want I have no right to just pluck her away from them even though I would very much like to. All the evil we've done, the lies, cheating, the manipulation without thinking twice and yet we can never quite bring ourselves to do those things with our soulmates." Sip. "That and she needs to be at Winterfell."

"Why?" Oberyn elongated the word. "She could be with you."

"Because not only does she wish to be able to be with me without disgracing her family by breaking her bogus betrothal to Joffrey the inbred moron, but I have her aiding me with something I have long attempt to complete."

"Like what-?" Realization spread across Olyvar's face then and Oberyn let his head fall backwards. "Oh, you have her looking for the last sword. Huh, and to think you said you'd not use her."

Petyr's eyes darkened. "I said I'd not lie, cheat or manipulate her, I never said I'd not use her talents, especially when they benefit her as well."

Oberyn smirked. "Yes, yes, you want them all in your safe keeping and you're fully aware I agree with you. I did get you Dorne's sword after all." He downed his drink then and when his dark eyes landed on Petyr's he just handed it over much to his brother's pleasure. "Now, will you come to Dorne? Please?"

"Fine." He said exasperatedly. "Fine. I have work to attend to for the so-called king for the next few days and then he'll probably croak so after Joffrey's crowning we can arrange something."

"I have no objections to that, as long as it is before Tyene's nameday. That girl truly does adore you and as her father it is my job to make sure my daughters have everything they want on their namedays."

"If it is for my niece I suppose I cannot refuse."

Oberyn grinned one of those scoundrel smiles he was known for. "No, you can't. I'll inform Elaria of the good news."

The Dornish Prince knocked back what was left of Petyr's drink then stood where his head dropped low and the glass slipped out of his hand only to role away. For a moment or two Olyvar's body wobbled back and forth while Baelish waited patiently, then, suddenly and with an unnecessary force, Oly's head snapped back up as eyes blinked rapidly.

"Where the fuck am I?" Didn't take long for the blond to figure out what had happened. "Oh, he did it a-fucking-gain, didn't he. Your brother is an asshole."

The Lord of Harrenhal pulled a face which said he clearly agreed with Olyvar's assessment. "You don't need to tell me that. Go get some sleep, Oly."

The blond nodded and rubbed at his arms, obviously being sans shirt had left him cold. He made to head off but only made it maybe five steps to the door before he paused and glared down at his breeches.

"If he's going to keep using me for this shit could he at least clean me up afterwards!"

Petyr did his best not to laugh until Olyvar had left and then was blissfully alone in his office again. He leant backwards in his ornate chair. Oberyn had been correct about one thing, he did want Sansa with him rather than up north in the damn cold.