1776

A new baby. Catelyn had birthed yet another Stark for Ned up in that frozen hell-hole known as the North and much to his amazement he'd been invited to the damn party welcoming the brat's arrival. This was, what, child number three … though it was the first girl from what Lord Baelish had heard. He had no real want to go and see the baby, why would he? However, it was an excuse to see Cat, to look at her beauty now drained by motherhood and lament silently to himself. He'd missed her, hated fighting the pull which urged him to return over and over to Winterfell Hall and see his soulmate. It physically hurt to be away from her for long, as though his heart were slowly being yanked from his chest by white-hot pincers. Yet Petyr had caved and he knew it, that was why he'd attended, why he'd spent fuck knew how long in a carriage to reach Winterfell along with all the other guests. He needed – just for a little while – to be near Catelyn, once the pain of being so far from his soulmate and quietened he'd be all right.

As soon as he'd reached the Winterfell estate he'd felt the proverbial heated metal release his heart and provide him some respite. Though his proximity to Catelyn had helped Petyr had found himself surrounded by guests all eager to see the latest perfect little Stark. Petyr had hated Robb upon his birth because it really had proven that she was not his soulmate, or at least if she was that he wasn't to be hers. What evil had he done to deserve this? To be shackled to a soul which did not love him nor share his connection?

Regardless of why he had to suffer such cruelty, Petyr decided to congratulate Cat just for a single moment of being near her. The man with ash at his temples didn't need to ask where she was, he could feel her presence to his left via their connection; she'd be in the very centre of that huddle with people cooing over her new daughter.

He approached with a sigh, politely pushed his way through the forming crowd intent on sating himself and then leaving, or perhaps he'd stay long enough to manipulate a couple of people just to see if anyone there could have been any use to him furthering his agenda.

When he reached the centre of the huddle Petyr was astounded to find Ned Stark stood guard over his newborn but Cat nowhere in sight. This was where he'd been pulled.

"Where is Cat?" Petyr asked without even trying to hide the confusion from his face.

Ned glared at him, clearly he'd either not known Baelish had been invited or against it; probably a little of both to be honest.

"Wanted a minute to herself, maybe she sensed you coming."

Green eyes landed on the small baby laying in her crib – an exotic animal on display to the public – and he couldn't for the life of him stop looking at her, he just watched her watching him.

"... I very much doubt that." He eventually managed to get out, attention still firmly on the infant.

Catelyn hadn't ever been able to sense him, of course she hadn't, she was human after all and the clear indication Petyr was being punished for some atrocity in a past life. However, as he continued to gaze at the newborn Petyr realized rather quickly that this child wasn't. He'd been tugged to the centre of this damn circle of people not by his connection to Cat but by his connection to the baby. That shouldn't have been possible, humans didn't birth demons, yes he'd heard a legend of it happening before but that was just a legend surely. Petyr had to fight off crying, Petyr Baelish did not cry. It wasn't Cat, it hadn't ever been Cat, it was always her daughter.

The baby stretched her tiny hand up towards him then and Petyr very nearly reached out for her; both were oblivious to Ned's deeply furrowed brow.

"Hello, Sweetling." He greeted with a genuine smile.

This child was so sweet and innocent, so untouched by the real world and Petyr could practically see the rope tying their souls together. Shock, he was in shock.

"Her name is Sansa." Ned almost hissed. "Lady Sansa to you."

Petyr tried to throw Ned an unimpressed and, more importantly, intimidating look but he couldn't pull his eyes from Sansa. Sweet, beautiful, Sansa Stark. In the end he was actually grateful to Lord Eddard when he spoke again because without him Petyr didn't know if he'd have ever moved again.

"Time to move along, Baelish, there are others I should greet."

Forcing one foot in front of the other the demon managed to move, managed to leave the huddle, managed to anything, he needed fresh air. While blinking rapidly and trying not to break out into a run he slipped through the side door of the ballroom and down the hall, hung a right and exited through the ever-so-small and so well hidden door that only the servants ever used to the gardens; freedom. Once a suable distance from the main house where nobody could see him Petyr slid down the trunk of a tree and just sat there uncaring as to how ruffled his coat would be.

How was any of this possible?! He'd taken Petyr Baelish's body upon his death because he was so close to Cat, it had always been her, always … but she was human and so it was impossible for her to be his soulmate. The infant, little Sansa, she may have been Cat's and Ned's flesh and blood daughter but she sure as hell wasn't human. That little one was a demon and he knew it.

He hadn't been drawn to Cat all these years.

"I was drawn to the child she'd have." He whispered to himself. "A demon born to human parents."

He kept his eyes on the leaf coated ground. A soulmate, an actual soulmate, he had one. Sure she was a newborn but she was beautiful and would grow even more so with time. A grin spread across his face then, a bold, uncontrollable grin which forced his usual mask out of the way. Sansa. Sansa! He had a soulmate and her name was Sansa. His perfect girl.

Thinking back to the tale he'd heard of a demon being born to human parents he still couldn't quite believe it. Like his brothers, sisters and every other damn demon who'd survived the purge he'd assumed it all to just be a story told to children, a fairytale designed to tell demons their soulmate would appear from where they least expected. This wasn't a legend though, that little demoness was inside Winterfell Hall, his little demoness.

It took a great many minutes but Lord Baelish eventually managed to get control of himself and headed back inside. Seeing Cat was just bizarre, to speak with her and feel that desperate pull towards another woman – a baby disturbingly – he could hardly make sense of it. Petyr was a strong willed man though and survived as he always did, especially when he'd already made a plan.

The Lord of Harrenhal had exited with everyone else at the party's end but instead of heading home he'd waited in the grounds until long after dark, leant against a tree hidden in the shadows and waited until all the lights and gone out before he slithered into the house via the same door he'd used earlier that day. He honestly had no idea where little Sansa's bedroom was but he didn't need to, just followed the comforting pull towards her. He walked up the stairs, hid behind a pillar when one of the footman passed by, and soon found himself stood at her bedroom door.

Petyr listened a moment to check if anyone was awake inside but didn't hear a peep, not a snore or a whisper, nothing, so he slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. There beside Sansa's crib was the Septa sat on her chair but she was fast asleep so took no notice of the lurking demon. Petyr didn't care, the Septa wasn't who he was there for. With a large smile he went to the crib to gaze upon Sansa. She was partially lit by moonlight which poured in from the large window to his right. Ethereal, that was how his soulmate looked.

Wisps of red hair, pale cheeks and a wondrously peaceful expression on her face as she slept all wrapped up in an adorable white gown. He let his green orbs rake over her tiny form as he longed to just hold her because that was it in the end, soulmate wasn't a pull of lust but one of love, of need to be together. In that moment all Petyr wanted to do was sit by her crib for the rest of his life, his plots, plans and schemes be dammed.

She opened her eyes then having sensed him and instantly reached out a tiny hand as she had earlier that day. Petyr grinned and bent to lean on the crib so he could let their fingers touch. As soon as their fingers made contact Petyr understood why Oberyn had spoken of getting lost in a current when he'd first held Elaria. Sansa was his and he was hers.

"I've waited a long time for you, my sweetling, and you're more beautiful than I could have ever imagined." He whispered. Her hand was so very soft inside his dramatically larger one. "I cannot wait for you to grow, you're going to match my wit and ambition perfectly, I can tell."

Then was when he finally gave in to his desire to kiss her and pressed his lips to her forehead, the soft touch got the happiest of tiny noises from her.

"Who are you?!" The Septa suddenly announced as sleep left her to be replaced by worry and anger. She launched to her feet. "You can't be here!"

The Septa didn't get a single step before Petyr glared at her; he made sure to lock their eyes.

"You never saw me. Sleep." He commanded and without a single second the Septa dropped back down into her seat asleep as though she'd never woken up.

Lord Baelish took a breath and sighed clearly not happy they'd been interrupted and returned to watching Sansa while he stroked her head.

"I wonder what you will be capable of, my love. Amazing things, I'm sure." He bent to kiss her tiny forehead once more, an indulgence on his part. "I've waited this long, sweetling, I can wait for you to grow. I have always been a patient man."

The dark-haired man knew he had to go, if he lingered any longer he'd linger forever.

"I'll not leave you alone in this world, my sweet, I may not be at your side but I'm always here for you. When you're old enough and start searching me out I'll tell you what you really are. I already love you, sweetling."

~X~

1793

Just before dawn, that was when Sansa crept back down into the crypt for another look around. She'd not been able to sleep so had decided to make use of her wakefulness and continue her search for the last sword, a search which had gone on much too long in Sansa's opinion, a search which was rapidly running out of places to check. The redhead bypassed the newer statues and sections of the crypt and instead made a bee-line for the oldest part with the aid of her lantern, there she found ancestors so far back that their lives were myth more than family history. The figures were not what she wanted to see though her ancestor who'd been alive at the time of the swords was, he was a grandfather of any number of greats named Lorimer Stark and Sansa could safely say there had been no mention of demons when she'd been taught about him as a child. Stood at his stone sarcophagus carved with scenes of men fighting dire wolves Sansa wondered if she'd over thought the entire thing. She'd been looking for some expansive cavern like Petyr had hidden the swords in at Mockingbrid Island but the North had no natural caverns to build within. The ground was cold and hard, yes they could have constructed some secret chamber underground but it wouldn't have stayed hidden long, too many people would have been needed. No, in the North the best thing to do was to hide in plain sight and who would have batted an eye at a Stark being buried with his sword?

Carefully she circled the stone sarcophagus to see if there was maybe some point of leverage she could use to move the stone top but there didn't seem to be one. Determined she pushed with all her might as well as any and all irritation for not having thought of this much sooner yet the stone moved not. With a deep groan of annoyance she shoved again and, amazingly, the lid shifted just a few centimeters, still Sansa would take the win and shoved her face to the tiny gap to see what was inside. Everything was black and stank of stuffy decay, like an old library no one had entered for a good four decades, but still she looked. Sansa had no hope of getting the lid to open further, frankly she was astounded it had given up as much as it had, but when she lifted her lantern thankfully some of the candlelight slipped through the sliver of a gap. The light only provided enough aid to show there was something body shaped inside as was to be expected, but, just when she'd been about to give up something reflected the light. She moved the lantern this way and that causing the object to glint again and again until she confirmed this was indeed a sword held by Lorimer Stark's skeletal fingers.

A large grin burst onto her lips, this wasn't just any sword, if it was a normal sword it would have surely been coated in dust just like everything else inside, it would have dulled rather than been radiant. Of course the redhead couldn't be a hundred percent certain but there was literally nowhere else to look and this was her most promising lead. Sansa had found the last demon sword.

As she returned to her chambers Sansa continued to grin. Having found the sword in King Lorimer Stark's grave meant a few things; firstly she could relax, as could Petyr, Secondly, Arya nor Jon would ever find it since they were looking for a secret room and wouldn't go opening graves to find one, and lastly Sansa didn't have to think of a new hiding place for the sword until she could pass it over to Petyr for safe keeping.

Once inside her bedchamber Sansa blew the candle of her lantern out and put it back in its place. She'd need to write to her beloved Petyr and inform him she'd located the last sword but would need help getting it free though she wanted to do that once she was properly dressed for the day, so, instead, Sansa sat by her window and stared out in the general direction of Mockingbird Island thinking of every time he'd touched her, kissed her and whispered in her ear while there.

Eventually an acceptable hour arrived and Claudette came to awake her mistress. The girl didn't show a single ounce of surprise at seeing Sansa already awake or gazing out the window, instead she just greeted the redhead and made her way further into the bedchamber.

"Milday, a letter has arrived from Lady Poole for you."

It was held out for Sansa to take which she did so quickly. Instead of Jeyen's, frankly messy, handwriting blue eyes were delighted to see Petyr's dramatic calligraphy. A smile spread across her lips while the lady's maid went about her duties. He mostly updated her of Robert Baratheon's declining health and how surprised he was that the fat bastard still clung to life. However, Petyr did also mention having a surprise for her, one she would get at the end of the week. He said nothing more of this surprise but to Sansa's chagrin it set Sansa's mind off with possibilities. What was this surprise? Was it another stunning dress or some impossibly perfect item of jewelry, or could it have even been another sip of that brandy they'd shared on the night they'd spoken for the first time? Sansa had no idea but the waiting would be exciting and give Sansa something to look forwards to.

"Milady, which dress would you like to wear today?"

The redhead really didn't care all that much. "Em, the lilac one."

For the rest of the day Sansa couldn't shake her good mood, she penned that letter to her beloved Petyr and sent it to Jeyne to have delivered and hoped it would reach Petyr swiftly. She ate breakfast with her family – save for her father of course who would probably be in King's Landing for a while – then took Lady out with Arya and Jon for an indulgently long ride. Of course it hadn't taken Arya long to convince her sister and cousin to start racing and while Arya and Jon were probably better riders than her, Lady had a good set of legs on her and could get some real speed up when she wanted to. When Sansa reached their pre-determined finish line first Sansa felt the wave of irritation that washed off of Arya while Jon just floated in a soft amusement. The redhead made a very quick and firm decision to insist she and Petyr went riding the next time they were together, it would be wonderful to just ride off into the woods with him, their connection preventing them ever loosing one another; an invisible rope tethering them together for eternity. Quite honestly 'eternity' didn't sound so scary when she had Petyr to hold her hand through it. He'd said it would take time for their bond to grow and render them immortal, and still Sansa had several questions about that, but she'd enjoy the time they spent together before that happened. She'd started to think of it as a demonic courting period of sorts though that was mostly just because she'd wanted something call it rather than it actually being courting.

Even missing Petyr wasn't going to ruin Sansa's happy mood provided by finding the sword though so she continued to race with her sister and cousin – who by this point was more brother than cousin – and enjoy the rare sparkling of warm sun to reach the North. She'd not taken part in many of these activities since returning home, it wasn't that Sansa hadn't wanted to spend time with them but that finding that sword had taken precedence. Now her task had been completed and Sansa would enjoy frolicking around with her siblings and cousin; something simple and peaceful compared to the game she'd learnt she was a part of.

~X~

Sansa had been on her way to her bedchamber to fix her braid where it had come loose when she spotted a carriage approach through one of the large windows. A black carriage which made Sansa's heart soar when she saw the mockingbird crest emblazoned on the door. Was this her surprise? Was this what Petyr had spoken of? The carriage stopped and Sansa practically squashed her face against the glass of the window while the footman went to open the door. Out stepped Petyr looking as imposing as ever and without even a pause green eyes tilted up to the window Sansa had pinned herself against with a knowing smile. Sansa beamed, she'd thought he felt closer all day but had just assumed it to be wishful thinking.

In that moment everything stopped for Sansa, she wasn't just waiting to be with Petyr again because now he was actually there and Sansa could already feel his arms around her for a loving embrace. Bliss, it would be total and utter bliss.

The redhead glanced down to her dress then, it was boring, plain and totally inappropriate to greet a high lord, but more importantly it was far from right to greet her soulmate in. Sure she knew Petyr wouldn't care in the slightest but the teenager did. Something would need to be done so she rushed to her bedchamber where she found Claudette putting fresh sheets on the bed.

"Everything all right, milady?" The girl enquired.

"We have an unexpected guest who has just arrived. I need you to re-do my hair and help me change into a different dress."

The maid nodded. "Of course, milady."

Before Sansa could be asked which dress she'd hauled out Petyr's second gift to her and by this point her lady's maid knew better than to question it, mostly because it wasn't her place but also because she'd seen the way Sansa had lit up with confidence when she'd worn it before.

Sansa watched herself in the standing mirror as each new layer was carefully set in place until her gown petticoat went over her head, the jet black fabric still stunning with its gold embroidery. The bodice was more revealing than her battle dress which Sansa knew her parents would not be pleased about but it wasn't as though she'd turned herself into a harlot; far from it. Once dressed Sansa forced herself to sit patiently while her hair was re-braided though she felt the itch to charge out and throw herself into Lord Baelish's arms.

She'd got no idea what Petyr was doing at Winterfell, perhaps it was something to do with her father since Ned Stark had returned the night previous looking drained and worried. Cat had done her best to hide his concerns from the Stark children but Sansa knew more than any of them, knew her father was determined to prove Joffrey's illegitimacy.

The redhead pushed away all her disturbing thoughts, it wasn't a time to think of those things, not when Petyr had arrived and she could finally be in his arms physically rather than just via the connection they shared. So that was what Sansa did, she thanked her maid for her quick work then left her bedchamber intent on heading downstairs to where she knew Petyr was. On the main stairs she met her sister who had clearly been outside all day judging by the smudge of dirt on her cheek.

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

"A dress." Sansa hardly missed a beat.

"Don't play dumb. Jon said a carriage arrived and if you're wearing that I bet it's Baelish. You want to look pretty for him, huh?"

Sansa just sighed and brushed off her sister's comments as the two descended the stairs. She was too happy to let her sister's childish teasing get to her.

They rounded a corner and spotted Robb and Jon had already beaten them to the main hall and stood with their parents to greet the Lord of Harrenhal. Arya went straight to stand by Robb and Jon but Sansa paused, Petyr was there dressed all in black, ash at his temples and eyes of green. He smiled at her while he removed his gloves.

"Hello again, Lady Sansa." He said in that wondrous voice of his.

All eyes turned to Sansa as she moved further into the room and even though she didn't meet the eyes of her mother she felt the displeasure her dress had caused.

"A pleasure to see you again, Lord Baelish." Kiss me! Hold me! Please, I need you!

"Why are you here, Baelish?" Ned demanded drawing Petyr's attention away from the seventeen-year-old.

Petyr hardly missed a beat. "I was sent by Queen Cersei on behalf of our king, you know, since you crawled off back to the North when-"

"Get to the point, Baelish, no more of your pretty words."

Petyr smirked clearly unaffected by Ned's gruff voice. "Cersei has a number of worries regarding her son and the inevitable death of King Robert and I have been dispatched to resolve as many of her concerns as I can."

While Ned Stark looked ready to lash Baelish to a horse and send it on its way Cat was much calmer and more logical. She stepped forwards with a gentle smile, mostly because she was the Lady of Winterfell and would uphold her duty to welcome guests no matter who they were or if they were actually welcome.

"Petyr, you must be tired after such a long journey. Why don't I have a servant show you to your room where you can rest and I'm sure Ned will be more than happy to speak with you after lunch."

"Yes," Baelish agreed, "A rest sounds wonderful."

He glanced over to his sweet Sansa and felt a possessiveness wash over him. She was truly beautiful in that dress. When he'd had it made for her he'd known the redhead would just bring it to life.

Cat caught sight of Petyr's wandering eyes though and was quick to summon a servant to escort him away and Petyr went willingly but made no attempt to take his eyes from Sansa until he was practically out the door.

Silence lingered in the hall a moment until Cat broke it to avoid Ned just storming off.

"Robb, please inform your brothers that we shall have a guest for dinner. Arya, go and clean that dirt off of your face." Arya grumbled but soon vanished knowing better than to argue. Meanwhile Catelyn's attention turned to her. "Sansa, may I speak with you please."

It clearly wasn't a question and Sansa knew what was coming so she just followed her mother into the parlor.

Once inside Sansa forced herself to stand tall, this dress was beautiful, perfect and Sansa adored it. The dress was dramatic but not wildly inappropriate, it had been a gift from someone who loved her.

"Did you know he was coming somehow?" Catelyn asked in a disturbingly calm voice.

Sansa shook her head. "No, how could I have known? You halted any and all communication between myself and Lord Baelish."

"Then why have you suddenly changed into this?" She gestured to the gown Sansa wore. "How many of these did he even give you?"

"Just two." The redhead told her mother. "I saw his carriage arrive and I- I..." She trailed off lamely but Cat filled in for her.

"You wanted to look nice for him." Catelyn sighed. "I thought we were getting passed this interest in Petyr."

"Mother, surely whatever he is here for is more important than any feelings I have for him." She said simply to distract the elder woman. "Should we not be more focused on that."

"You are indeed correct, Sansa, but do not think we won't revisit this conversation. Your father and Petyr have much to discuss so please do not get under their feet."

"I won't." She promised.

Sansa may have wanted to wrap herself up in Petyr's strong arms and never let him go again, but she wouldn't interfere with the duties of Master of Coin and Hand of the King.