Sansa wasn't stupid, far from it, she knew she'd been purposely kept away from her darling Petyr, even at dinner her parents had made sure to seat him as far away from her as possible. Conversation had been tense and Ned didn't for a second hide his dislike of Lord Baelish. They all spoke mostly of unimportant things with long silences between topics, it was clear nobody was happy, except Petyr and Sansa of course who just delighted in the happiness which drifted back and forth through their bond.
It had been quickly decided that the Master of Coin would remain at Winterfell until his business with Ned was concluded which would likely only take a few days due to Baelish's efficiency and Lord Stark's desire to be rid of him.
Throughout dinner Sansa felt Petyr's green eyes caress her now and again whenever Ned glanced down to his food, and when those glances came Sansa would smile at him ever so sweetly. She'd worn the dress especially for him and he knew it; even across the room at the other end of the table thy both knew that dress meant he was wrapped around her. He loved her and she most certainly loved him.
When the practically maladroit dining experience was over the Stark children were sent to their bedchambers – even Jon – which was probably just to conceal that Sansa was the one they really wanted out-of-the-way. Sansa had endured just about enough of being treated like a child, she may not have been fully an adult but she definitely wasn't an infant.
Sansa sat by her window staring at the moonlit grounds while she reached out to Petyr through their ever growing bond. The feeling was akin to stretching one's arm out in the pitch black and waiting for one's soulmate to clasp it. Petyr did, by the gods did he reach out and grasp her through their bond making Sansa feel as though everything would be all right.
The redhead's happy bubble was abruptly popped when Septa Mordane barged in without even knocking. Sansa turned to look at her with a very disinterested expression, then of all moments Sansa hadn't wanted to be interrupted.
"Sansa, your mother has insisted I sit outside your door tonight."
"So you are to stand guard over the defenceless and stupid child, oh how happy you must be." Sansa snapped.
Why couldn't people just let Sansa love who she loved?
Septa Mordane's eyes narrowed. "Do not be rude, Sansa. Your lady's maid shall be along shortly and then you will go to bed."
With that the Septa left the room and Sansa sighed deeply. Some days Sansa thought the elder woman saw of herself as Sansa's jailer. Sure enough a short while later her lady's maid did indeed appear and helped Sansa to ready for bed. The redhead made no attempt to speak with the other woman, she just stared off out the large window while her soul called out for its other half. Bizarre that she felt more lonely than when Lord Baelish had been so far away in King's Landing.
For several hours Sansa read the latest book she'd swiped from the library. A skinny candle was the only thing to light the room, a dancing flame just sufficient to read by. The tale was decent enough, full of highway bandits and things Sansa's mother wouldn't have approved of, but no story could ever compare to Sansa's new reality; she was a demon, what story could rival that?
The seventeen-year-old had literally just started a new chapter when Septa Mordane rudely entered Sansa's bedchamber for the second time that night and it took all of Sansa's energy not to grown with irritation.
"Time you went to bed, Sansa. It's late so put your candle out."
At that moment Sansa's door opened a second time and in came Petyr, he stood tall hardly even noticed Septa Mordane's harsh glare of outrage; like she had any right to be outraged.
"How dare you c-"
Petyr cut her off with his eyes glued to the very core of the elder woman's.
"Go to your own room and sleep. When you wake in the morning you will believe you spent all night sat outside Sansa's door."
The Septa didn't speak, just turned robotically, wandered off and Petyr closed the door behind her only to flash his charismatic smile at his beloved; Sansa beamed.
"Hello, my sweetling."
"Petyr!"
In seconds she'd thrown herself into Petyr's arms where she clung to him tightly, her face pressed into his neck.
"I've missed you as well, my love." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder as he slowly carried her towards the bed.
He pressed her into the downy mattress, his large hands worked Sansa free of her nightgown in seconds and with a need Petyr wouldn't normally display. Only when she lay naked before him did the demon allow Sansa to help rid him of his own clothing, the black jacket of his ditto suit was cast to the ground as though offensive and his waistcoat soon followed.
"I love you." She told him when he hauled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, the scar on his chest revealed to her.
"And I love you, my beautiful Sansa."
Sansa delighted in his voice, so perfectly husky and tantalizing, it soothed her and made the teenager feel safe. Her parents could say what they wanted about Lord Petyr Baelish but Sansa had come to learn there was her own heart and then there was Petyr and they were one in the same.
Petyr pushed her thighs apart to further accommodate him, to reveal her already wet core to his hungry eyes. Their tongues met in a battle for dominance that Baelish quickly won, their foreheads touched every now and again when they separated for air before letting their lips brush against each other's once more. Her scent flooded his senses; their kiss wasn't innocent more like a tease, hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. This wouldn't be soft, gentle touches, it was about love, lust but above all it was about need just as their lovemaking on the Poole estate had been. They'd been so far from one another for so very long now and it had hurt, it had physically hurt, but they were together once more and they'd not part until sated.
Petyr's grasp on her hips as he thrust his length deep into her core was harsh but Sansa wouldn't have changed in for a single moment; the fingertip bruises he left would just act as a reminder of his love and need for her.
"Petyr, please..."
The redhead clawed at Petyr's shoulders as her climax hurtled towards her, her moans of pleasure soon grew loud and the man with ash at his temples was forced to cover her mouth with his hand.
"That's it, my love, cum for me. Cum, Sansa." He ordered.
Sansa obeyed, when he thrust into her body sharply white erupted behind her eyes, her walls clamped down around his length which caused Petyr to groan into his lover's neck.
"Fuck, Sansa!"
Petyr's orgasm rushed through him and left Sansa feeling sticky in the best of ways. She writhed beneath her lover while he thrust throughout their shared orgasms, her beautiful noises muffled by his strong hand.
"I love you, Petyr." She breathed one he finally removed his hand so he could lay at her side and wrap her up in his arms. "I've missed you so much."
He pulled her tighter to him, something which encouraged her to cling to him. He smelt so wonderfully of mint; a delightful scent which had become soothing to sweet Sansa Stark. No matter what happened, if Sansa got one whiff of that mint she knew everything would be all right.
"I know you have, sweetling and trust me, I have missed you as well. I could feel your soul calling to mine almost constantly, there were days when it was all I could focus on." He cupped her cheek to tilt her head up so he could kiss her lips. "Ros had thow a book me at one point."
Oh that made the seventeen-year-old chuckle, a Elysian sound Baelish would never tire of, not for a single second.
For almost an hour the two just lay there in one another's arms with hardly a word passed between them, they'd just been happy to bask in their private peace, but eventually Sansa's need to ask a certain question forced her to break the humble quietude.
"How long will you stay?"
The demon breathed out a sigh. "I will stretch out my stay here as much as possible, sweetling, but your parents will want me gone quickly. I'm afraid I can't give you an exact day count but every moment I am able I shall spend with you."
Sansa pressed her face further into Petyr's scared chest and accepted his words as a vow. Everything was perfect once more.
"Did you get my last letter?" Sansa asked when she realized he'd not said anything about her discovery.
Petyr shook his head. "I have read no letters from you since I departed for Winterfell, I wrote the letter to you and then left the next day."
Sansa sat herself up with a proud smile, something which had Baelish adjust himself to a vertical position. His eyes seemed to brighten at his beautiful girl's happy mood.
"What have I missed, sweetling?"
"I- I found the last sword." She said clearly and Petyr's expression dropped from teasing amusement to complete seriousness. "It was hidden in plain sight essentially. It was buried with King Lorimer Stark. I managed to shift the coffin lid just enough that I could peer in but I am nowhere near strong enough to lift it off."
"Worry not, sweetling, I'm sure Lothor, Olyvar and I can lift it." He kissed her then, cupped her cheeks and kissed her with all the love he could. "I am so very proud of you, my love, you have done so well. We shall remove the sword and I will take it to the vault beneath Harrenhal and I promise you, humans will never use them against our kind again."
The redhead nodded, she'd heard the stories of demons being slaughtered and ripped from their soulmates for nothing more than existing. Sansa never wanted that to happen to her and Petyr, never wanted it to happen to anyone.
Something crossed Sansa's mind then, something her demon had said in passing.
"Wait, Lothor? You brought Lothor?"
Sansa had of course seen Olyvar – Lord Baelish's valet – when Petyr had arrived but she'd not once spotted Lothor and he wasn't exactly the sort of man who could just blend in; that said she had only set eyes on him three the entire time she was at Mockingbird Island.
The dark-haired man nodded. "Yes, I left him to linger in Winter Town. He'll come if needed but I thought it best not to let your father spot him lest he think I intended to start a war or kidnap you."
"As if it would be kidnapping." Said Sansa before she even knew her mouth had opened and it earned a chuckle from the elder man.
Sansa let herself be pulled back down into the pile of sheets and Petyr's strong embrace; she slotted against him as though they were two neighboring pieces of a jigsaw.
"Tomorrow night." He told her. "Tomorrow night we shall sneak down to the crypt and liberate the sword from its hiding place. I'll inform my brother as well, he'll be pleased of the news."
Over the centuries nobles families had married their children off to one another to the point that even Maesters couldn't really keep up with who was related to who any longer. Yet now Sansa had found herself with a secondary secret family underneath all of that, to the rest of Westeros House Baelish and House Martell had absolutely nothing to do with one another but, when one was aware of the secrets though, they knew Petyr and Oberyn to be twins. Petyr had called chaos a ladder, but Sansa had started to wonder if labyrinth was a more apt description.
"My maid will come to wake me at eight, you-"
Petyr kissed her forehead. "Don't concern yourself, sweetling, I sent your Septa away and I can certainly make a maid forget she saw me." Another kiss. "Sleep now, Sansa, rest knowing your soul has to travel no further than a few inches to be with mine. In the day we shall take a walk together, would you like that?"
Sansa could do little more than nod, sleep called her and she was too happy to carry on conversation much longer. For the first time since she'd left Mockingbird Island Sansa slept like a log, slept feeling warm and loved … if a little bit sticky.
~X~
True to his word, when the daylight came Petyr was forced to use his Exhort ability on Sansa's lady's maid which had given him enough time to kiss his beloved then abscond to change into a new suit. Nobody but them would ever know Petyr had spent all night in the teenager's bed.
Sansa allowed herself to be dressed for the day in a dark purple gown she didn't wear very often, somehow the color had seemed appropriate. Her hair was braided over her left shoulder and she'd thought a moment about asking her maid to place the pearl-headed pins into her braid but thought better of it, Petyr loved her for her not because of unnecessary displays of wealth.
She was totally unsurprised when Petyr was once again kept as far away from her as possible throughout breakfast, but that hadn't stopped the pair from sharing loving glances every time Cat and Ned peered down at their food just as they had at dinner the previous night. Arya and Robb spotted the looks though neither said anything on the subject, Arya just looked mildly disgusted while Robb appeared more uncertain than anything else.
While Sansa would have liked to sit beside the Lord of Harrenhal just as she had at Mockingbird Island, she'd survive, especially when she could still feel a faint echo of him between her thighs. A faint echo Sansa delighted in, savored even. Robb knew how she felt about Petyr, he'd listened and understood – so had Jon to some extent – and she just wished that her parents would soon realize it was fated rather than some childish fantasy. Patience, that was what Sansa needed, Petyr had taught her the importance of patience and she was inclined to take his lesson to heart.
~X~
Though most of Lord Baelish's time at Winterfell was spent in discussions with her father Petyr had made certain to spend as much time as possible with his beloved Sansa. Whenever a spare moment came the two gravitated together.
That day they'd elected to take a walk in the gardens knowing it wouldn't be long before Petyr was forced to return to King's Landing, as would her father. They wanted to spend as much time together as was physically possible.
Petyr had looped his arm with Sansa's as they strolled along the garden paths. Birds tweeted high above and though the air was chilled more so than usual Sansa basked in the warmth which drifted from her demon. Since her mother was distracted with Robb's upcoming wedding while Ned had given in to Arya's pleading and taken her and Jon for a ride, so Sansa knew their walk would mostly go unnoticed; especially since Petyr had used his ability on Septa Mordane again.
"This is nice." Sansa sighed happily as she rested her head on his shoulder.
Baelish smiled, not a smirk but an actual smile which reached his eyes and made them twinkle with something other than mischief or disgust.
"Indeed it is. I promise you, Sansa, there will come a time when we can take walks whenever you choose."
"I'd like that."
As the eldest eligible daughter of House Stark it was no secret that she was a pawn despite what her father claimed. Yes, they'd let Robb choose who he wed but Talisa Maegyr was from an ancient noble family and a good match when it came to making connections in Essos. Meanwhile, Petyr was a high lord and Master of Coin but she'd been promised to a prince, soon to be king, and no one could stand up to that title. Still, it was not the time to worry about any of that, she'd worried about it all far too much both before and after meeting Lord Baelish; it deserved no more of her time that day.
"I've had Lothor looking at the crypt of your ancestor and he believes it can be lifted but it will take myself and Olyvar as well. Of course bringing in lifting equipment would be quicker but certainly draw too much attention and I cannot alter that many people's minds at once."
Sansa nodded in understanding. "Tonight then?" The elder man nodded. "I know we must take the sword but Lorimer Stark is still my ancestor, he's still family-"
Baelish cut her off. "We will leave the grave as intact as possible. Simply remove the stone lid, take the sword and replace it, I promise."
Lord Baelish couldn't have cared less about some bones of a long dead human and besides, leaving everything just as they'd found it would ensure no one became suspicious; last thing he needed was Ned Stark accusing him of body desecration.
Petyr paused then as they reached a fork in the path, one would lead them back towards Winterfell Hall while the other would go out towards Godswood. He glanced between his beloved redhead and the path a few times before a smirk crossed his features and forced his moustache to twitch upwards ever so slightly.
He tugged her to him. "How about a walk deep into the woods, sweetling? I did so enjoy our time at the Poole estate."
Sansa chuckled at his words, his voice deep and full of temptation, a temptation she could never quite resist; not that she tried all that hard. The lord wrapped his arms around the demoness and pulled her flush against his chest, an act which made her chuckle.
"You're insatiable, Lord Baelish." She teased and then it was his turn to chuckle.
"But of course. What healthy man wouldn't be champing at the bit to bed you every moment of every day if they could?"
"But sir," she continued to tease, "you cannot bed me. How could I be bedded so far from my chambers?"
The man with ash at his temples leant in close so he could whisper quietly into her ear; smiles mirrored in their expressions.
"Oh my love, I'll find you a particularly soft area of grass if you like."
With that he pressed a kiss to the sensitive section of skin just behind her ear and Sansa shivered, she practically purred at the soft caress and let him guide her deep into Godswood to have his wicked way with her. Sansa had no idea what was so wicked about it, to her their lovemaking was always heavenly.
~X~
Long after darkness had fallen but still before the sun could even think about rising for the day, Petyr had crept to Sansa's bedchamber once more to collect her. Outside had sat Septa Mordane guarding away as though Petyr were some monster intent on raping the innocent young Stark, but she was quickly dealt with by him locking his eyes with hers and ordering 'sleep until morning, I was never here'. Free to leave Sansa had laced her fingers with those of the elder demon and the two had quickly made their way outside where they'd been met by Olyvar and Lothor. In silence with only moonlight to light their way, the redhead guided them down into the cold crypt. As soon as they were safely away from any and all prying eyes Olyvar and Lothor lit the two lanterns they carried with them and the three men easily followed Sansa towards the eldest section where King Lorimer Stark rested.
Sansa was pleased to see everything looked exactly as she'd left it, not that she'd expected anyone to have done anything. Her blue eyes watched Petyr as he went to stand at the foot of the grave and paused a moment, his face grew blank as if his body lived but his brain was elsewhere. Sansa reached up a hand to rest on his forearm but Lothor caught it before she could and shook his head.
"I wouldn't, Sansa." Olyvar kindly explained. "He'll be informing Oberyn that the last sword has been located, it's always best not to touch him when his mind travels quite so far."
He'd dropped her title, Oberyn's as well, but that hardly seemed important, especially when Petyr so suddenly became animated again and clapped his hands together as though nothing had happened.
"Let us get to work, shall we?"
Lothor and Olyvar set their lanterns down then went to stand on either side of the stone grave while Sansa just watched on.
"I tried to lift it myself but this thing wouldn't budge." Said Lothor, voice deep. "I chiselled around the edges though, enough to create finger holds so the three of us can lift it."
Baelish nodded and took off his
Long after darkness had fallen but still before the sun could even think about rising for the day, Petyr had crept to Sansa's bedchamber once more to collect her. Outside had sat Septa Mordane guarding away as though Petyr were some monster intent on raping the innocent young Stark, but she was quickly dealt with by him locking his eyes with hers and ordering 'sleep until morning, I was never here'. Free to leave Sansa had laced her fingers with those of the elder demon and the two had quickly made their way outside where they'd been met by Olyvar and Lothor. In silence with only moonlight to light their way, the redhead guided them down into the cold crypt. As soon as they were safely away from any and all prying eyes Olyvar and Lothor lit the two lanterns they carried with them and the three men easily followed Sansa towards the eldest section where King Lorimer Stark rested.
Sansa was pleased to see everything looked exactly as she'd left it, not that she'd expected anyone to have done anything. Her blue eyes watched Petyr as he went to stand at the foot of the grave and paused a moment, his face grew blank as if his body lived but his brain was elsewhere. Sansa reached up a hand to rest on his forearm but Lothor caught it before she could and shook his head.
"I wouldn't, Sansa." Olyvar kindly explained. "He'll be informing Oberyn that the last sword has been located, it's always best not to touch him when his mind travels quite so far."
He'd dropped her title, Oberyn's as well, but that hardly seemed important, especially when Petyr so suddenly became animated again and clapped his hands together as though nothing had happened.
"Let us get to work, shall we?"
Lothor and Olyvar set their lanterns down then went to stand on either side of the stone grave while Sansa just watched on.
"I tried to lift it myself but this thing wouldn't budge." Said Lothor, voice deep. "I chiselled around the edges though, enough to create finger holds so the three of us can lift it."
Baelish nodded and took off his black suit coat, he rested it down on the grave of Queen Msiddi – King Lorimer's wife – and went to stand beside Olyvar; the three men slipped their fingers into the tiny fingerholds Lothor had managed to create. They were just about to lift when Sansa suddenly moved to place herself beside Lothor and did the same as the men.
"Sweetling, we can manage, you don't have to-" She cut Petyr off.
"I want to help, he's my ancestor. We aren't grave robbers, we're trying to prevent anymore demon deaths."
The man with salt and pepper hair knew better than to argue with his beloved Sansa so instead he just nodded and accepted her aid; though Sansa didn't know how much strength she'd actually contribute when it came to lifting the unnecessarily heavy lid. When she paused to think about it the lid had probably been made quite so heavy to stop people getting at the sword even accidentally.
Once the four had assured one another that they had a good hold Petyr calmly and clearly counted to three before everybody lifted. Sansa had been right, her side of the lid was raised almost entirely by Lothor.
"Fuck this is heavy." Olyvar stated the obvious as the lid rose a couple of millimetres.
They continued with all their strength until the gap was large enough for someone to get their hand in; Sansa should have seen it coming that it would be her.
"Sweetling, grab the sword, do it quickly." Petyr sounded strained, he was a demon not supernaturally strong.
Of course the redhead did have some reservations about shoving her hand into a crevice the top of which could have crashed down at any moment and severed her arm at the elbow, but the longer she stood there thinking about it the more that would become a possibility. With a calming breath Sansa shuffled closer to Lothor and stretched her hand nto the darkness towards the decomposed body, she shivered when her fingers made contact with bones but refused to pull away. She slowly felt down what seemed to be armor to the hilt of the sword and then, in one smooth but quick motion, yanked her hand back sword and all once again revealing the demon sword to light after thousands of years. However, before everybody could celebrate there was a click as something released and Petyr let out a sharp cry of pain, the lid crashed back down into place as though it had never been touched and Petyr backed up until he hit the wall beside him.
Sansa grew panicked, she dropped the blade and rushed to Petyr where she found him to have a small bolt buried in his upper thigh. She didn't notice Lothor retrieve the sword nor the way Olyvar positioned himself so Petyr could lean on him.
"Oh Gods, Petyr!"
"I'm all right, my love." He hissed. "The grave must have been trapped, probably on all sides but I suspect the rope has rotted away that's why only mine fired." He slowly wrapped his hand around the bolt in his right thigh and with hardly a breath to prepare himself he ripped it free of his flesh and dropped it to the ground. Olyvar removed his cravat and tied it around Petyr's thigh as a makeshift tourniquet while Sansa's eyes filled with horror. What if he bleeds to death? What if it gets infected? Would it need to be amputated?!
Petyr tilted her chin up with his non-bloody hand. "Worry not, Sansa, we are demons remember, impervious to infection and we heal quickly. I'll be better by the afternoon.
Sansa nodded. He was fine, of course he was fine, Petyr was always fine. He bent his leg a little as if testing the damage then nodded his thanks to the blond for his assistance and took Sansa by the hand to kiss it.
"Thank you for your concern."
Didn't take more than that for her to snuggle into his warm body and Lothor to hand him the last demon sword.
"You have done so very well, sweetling, finding this all by yourself, cleverly only bringing in the men to use as your muscle." Peyr spoke while he inspected the sword still in its sheaf. "It will be taken to its brothers and kept safe, I promise you that."
She finally looked up at him. "Good." Petyr passed the sword back to Lothor. "Someone like Joffrey can never find them. Never."
"And no one shall." He kissed the top of her head as he wrapped his arms lovingly around her. "Now, I think it is time Lothor absconds with that sword for safe keeping while the rest of us return to our beds, the sun will surely rise soon."
Everybody nodded in agreement as though Petyr clearly wasn't the one in charge. Lothor wasted no time and was gone from the crypt even before Petyr had put his suit coat back on. Blood slowly soaked into his breeches but it would heal, he would just have to put up with the pain for a while until his flesh knitted itself back together.
More slowly than they'd left – due to Petyr's limping – the two men and demoness returned to the main house but when they reached the end of a hall, Sansa's bedchamber to the west and Petyr's to the east, they paused.
Lord Baelish cupped her cheek. "Go to bed, my love, I would come with you but I need to tend to this wound, find something to numb it. You did so well, Sansa, I am so very proud of you."
She smiled at him and accepted his kiss readily while Olyvar kept an eye out for any random servant or worse, a Stark, who'd opted for a late night walk.
"You sure you will be all right, Petyr?"
He nodded. "Very. Demons are strong and it is not the first time I have been shot and not all of them were during war." Sansa's eyes widened so he elaborated. "I taught Tyene archery when she was young, I left her for a few moments and upon my return my niece somehow managed to shoot me in the shoulder."
He chuckled to himself quietly, it would appear he was rather fond of that memory. However, he soon returned to the present and prompted for Sansa to leave. With one more fond kiss she obeyed and quietly rushed back to her chamber careful to tip-toe around Septa Mordane as she did.
Meanwhile Olyvar helped Lord Baelish back to his own chamber and eased the demon down onto the settee. There the blond made quick work of pouring some clean water into a bowl and returned to kneel between the gap in Petyr's legs. He ripped open the perfectly tailored breaches and untied the cravat before he made to clean the wound.
"Such a good nurse you make, Oly." Petyr smirked.
"Oh shut up and let me work."
"You do know this is pointless, Oly, I'll heal with or without you cleaning the wound."
Olyvar didn't look up from the bloody wound. "Maybe so but if I clean and sew it then you will heal twice as fast as you normally would and hopefully we won't have the Starks asking why you're limping."
Petyr grinned. "So kind and thoughtful. I see why my brother is quite so fond of you. Actually, I suppose you're rather grateful I'm not my brother right now, aren't you?"
The blond valet snorted but didn't pause in his task. "Of course I am, if you were your brother I'd already have your cock down my throat."
"Thank the Gods for small mercies."
"Indeed." Oly agreed.
Petyr had taken Lothor, Armeca and Ros in because he saw their potential whether it be a loyal soldier, someone who could make him an awful lot of coin or a skeptical assistant. Olyvar, however, Petyr had taken Oly in simply because he liked him and enjoyed the banter they shared.