Sansa had been growing steadily more angry all day, she'd been kept away from the Lord of Harrenhal, which wasn't exactly unusual since Petyr's arrival almost a week previous, but Sansa had no idea if it was just because her parents wanted them apart or if they suspected something about the crypt. Sansa's inner worries got to a point where she actually felt Petyr stretch out via their ever-increasing connection and wrap her in comfort, as soon as he had she'd breathed a sigh of relief and watched her stress bleed away.

The redhead wanted to go to him, wanted to tell Septa Mordane to sleep the same way Petyr could and leave her embroidery so she could throw herself into his arms for some real comfort. Sansa sighed, she couldn't do the same things as her beloved Petyr though, she was an Empath not an Exhort. The teenager had once forced Mordane to flood full of fear but that had been a total accident and not something she wanted to repeat very soon. So she'd stay sat there with her threads and the Septa occasionally eyeing her like she'd melt.

Blue eyes glanced down to the handkerchief she'd been monogramming for her brother, Robb. Sansa had made Petyr a handkerchief and even a needle painting which he'd appeared delighted with, but making a gift for Robb didn't quite bring her the same joy.

"You've been very quiet today, Sansa." Said the Septa after a few more minutes of quiet sewing.

"I haven't had much to say." She responded smoothly without even glancing up for a second. "At least … not to you."

The elder woman let out a disgruntled hum. "To Lord Baelish I presume. He's not good for you, Sansa, not good for anybody. He is-"

Sansa's head snapped up not with rage but certainly with annoyance of once again being told what she should and shouldn't think about her beloved Petyr.

"Have you ever actually spoken to him?" The 'that you can remember' was implied. "You keep telling me that I know nothing of him, when really it is you who knows nothing about him. Petyr might be a shrewd businessman but that does not make him a monster, he is kind, considerate and more than generous to those he cares for, and I am one of them. Just because he does not conform to how you, my mother or father want him to act does not make him a bad person." She set her sewing aside to stare out one of the chilled windows. "When I was little you would tell me not to judge people based on hearsay but that is all you are doing. This conversation proves nothing but your own hypocrisy."

Silence dominated the small room then for a few moments, Sansa stared out the window while Mordane watched the younger woman.

"He's got you good, hasn't he, girl."

Sansa's brow furrowed. "He hasn't 'got' me anything. Now, I think I'll take a walk in the gardens." Septa made to stand up. "No. I wish to walk alone."

With that she left the small room and fled to the garden for some peace. Sansa wasn't stupid, she knew why people were against Lord Baelish, why they thought he couldn't be trusted, mostly because he couldn't, but that was from those who didn't know who Petyr really was. Yes, to her mother this was the same man who had been in love with her as a child, but Sansa knew that little boy had died by the hands of her Uncle Brandon. Two people but the same body. Sansa chuckled to herself as she approached the gazebo, were she to ever say that to anybody other than Petyr she'd have likely been tossed into an asylum; well that would have been one way of escaping Joffrey.

She spent a great many hours sitting quietly in the gazebo, just breathing in the chilled northern air indulging in the peace of not being trailed after by chaperones or Septa Mordane. Every now and again she felt Petyr stretch out to caress her soul and Sansa soaked it up with glee.

A thought which she'd pondered multiple times was that she and Petyr would one day become immortals just as Oberyn had. Sansa supposed that for at least a decade nobody would really notice but when they did she had to ask herself how the humans would take it, would they be ignored as an oddity or would clerics figure them out and demand some sort of divine retribution? Didn't matter, as long as the swords were all locked away deep underneath Mockingbird Island the humans wouldn't be able to harm them; wouldn't be able to steal any more souls from their mates. Still, Sansa wondered what it would mean to see the world change over and over again. Fear wanted to settle within her but Sansa knew as long as Petyr was with her she'd never be afraid of the future.

~X~

When the Stark family and Lord Baelish all sat down for dinner Sansa was once again kept far away from her demon which she begrudgingly accepted as normal. They all ate and Robb, bless his heart, kept most of the conversation going while Arya sat in her chair with disinterest, Ned glared at their guest and Petyr alternated between shrugging off Ned's irritation and letting his green orbs caress Sansa's beautiful skin.

It wasn't long before Ned announced that the Lord of Harrenhal would be leaving on the morrow, to Harrenhal or back to King's Landing Ned Stark honestly didn't care as long as he left Winterfell. Tensions were high, or at least they were with her father and mother, everybody else just seemed to be getting on with things. Sansa wasn't entirely sure what had been discussed between Petyr and her father but it was most certainly important; it was about King Robert after all.

Right as dinner came to an end Olyvar appeared by his master's side to whisper something in his ear. Petyr nodded and excused himself, the pair left the dining hall quickly but didn't seem rushed and Sansa hadn't been able to sense any fear or panic coming from Olyvar so she hoped nothing was wrong.

The younger Starks took Petyr's polite departure to do the same since they felt as though they were drowning in the thick and sticky atmosphere dinner had turned into. Jon guided Arya, Rickon and Bran out like some sort of shepherd, he'd probably take them down to the kitchens for a cookie or something despite them having all just eaten. Jon really was a good cousin to the Starks, but to the youngest amongst them he was a brother.

Angry she'd not fled as well Sansa took a breath and made to excuse herself but Robb got there first.

"If you will excuse me, Mother, Father, I wish to write to Talisa. After all the wedding is so very close now."

Sansa bid her brother a good night just as their parents did and watched him stride out of the large room wondering just how she'd let herself be the last one remaining. You should have gone with Jon and the others, stupid girl, she mentally chastised herself.

"I will retire as well." Sansa rose to her feet. "Goodnight."

Four steps, four steps was all she got before her father's deep, Northern voice had her halt and she let out the deepest sigh she was capable of.

"Sansa," began her father "I know we've been through this and I am fully aware you have no desire to marry Prince Joffrey-"

"Just get to the 'but', Father." Said the redhead as she turned once more to face her parents.

Cat's brow furrowed. "Do not be so rude, Sansa."

"No, Cat, she's right, there is a 'but' coming." Ned Stark looked tired nowadays, weary like he'd been worn down from all angles. "But it is quite clear that Robert will die very soon, I am actually rather amazed he hasn't succumbed to his wounds already to be perfectly honest. As soon as Robert dies Joffrey will be crowned and then an heir will be needed. Lass, there is no way the Lannisters are going to give up your betrothal now and I think you know that. One of the reasons Baelish was sent here was to have you brought to the capital to prepare for the wedding. I am Robert's Hand not Joffrey's so I have very little say anymore. You will go to King's Landing like the Lannisters want and I will try to end the betrothal before you are wed."

"Is that because I don't want to marry Joffrey or because he isn't King Robert's son?" Sansa hadn't really meant for that to slip out but once it had Ned's head snapped up so quickly it almost cracked.

"How do you-"

"I am not as dumb or naïve as people like to believe, father."

Catelyn made to scold her eldest daughter again but the look on her husband's face told her it wasn't the time so she – thankfully – remained silent.

"And if they force me to wed him before you prove anything?"

"... I don't know, Lass, proof could be cause to annul the marriage."

"But by then I'd have been turned into whatever Joffrey's little plan for me is. No! I'm sick of playing other people's games, of being a pawn like my life is of little consequence." Sansa hadn't meant to shout or to continue with the shouting but everyone she spoke to had some sort of different plan for her and how her life would go, only Petyr had actually taken the time to fucking ask what she wanted. She knew real life wasn't as simple as she wanted it to be but the demoness and her soulmate had already decided her fate together; that was what would happen! "I am not a chess piece or a child, I am rare and unique, sick of being described by my House name. And when Joffrey finds out and no longer wants me? What then when the family is scandalized?"

Her parents' expressions suddenly went blank as they glanced at one another a short moment before turning their full attention back to their eldest daughter.

Ned lifted an eyebrow. "Find out what, Lass?"

Oh Sansa and her big mouth. She should have stayed silent, should have kept things bottled up the way Petyr did.

The glares of her mother and father were harsh, her mother's more so, and the teenager knew that she had no way out of this now. Sansa had talked herself into a corner with little recourse. Her soul felt Petyr's reach out for her, clearly he'd felt her distress and had grown worried, but he was in another part of Winterfell Hall rather than by his beloved's side.

Sansa truly regretted starting this conversation but things had progressed much too far now and she had no way out but to tell the truth.

"That- that I am no longer a maiden."

Petyr – rather stupidly – chose that moment to once again enter the dining hall, he surely had some comment about having left something behind or wishing to bid his hosts a good night, but Sansa knew he'd really come to check on her. He'd come to protect her but the redhead wondered if it was really Lord Baelish who needed saving now.

Neither parent spoke for a moment and then, in a disturbingly smooth motion, Ned had flown from his chair, around the large dining table and had Petyr pressed into the wall by a window. Moonlight illuminated Petyr's salt and pepper hair as Ned smacked it into the cold brick.

"Ned!" Shouted Cat as she shot from her seat but Lord Stark took no notice, just continued to try to crush the life out of Petyr.

Had the human boy still been inside that body he'd have likely passed out and died in Ned's grasp but that boy had left a long time ago; demons were made of sturdier stuff.

Fortunately Petyr made no attempt to retaliate against his attacker, something for which Sansa was grateful, he made no attempt to fight back while Sansa desperately tugged at her father's arms to free the man she loved. It would have been easy for Petyr to use his Exhort ability but some people – like Eddard Stark – had stronger wills than most so weren't easily controlled, especially when angry, but that didn't mean the demon wouldn't try. Petyr locked his green orbs with Ned's angry ones and spoke clearly despite the strong hands around his throat.

"Let go of me, Ned. You don't really want to murder a man in front of your wife and daughter."

Sansa spotted Petyr's eye twitch as though it were a struggle to hold Ned's attention. There was so much anger wafting around the dining hall but not all of it came from Lord Stark, it crept into Sansa like an unpleasant scent and quickly became too much, she did her best to force it down, to keep it separate from her own feelings. Right as the ire almost overwhelmed her Sansa felt a sudden calming and spotted the way her father's shoulders relaxed. The anger bled away and though it took a time Ned did finally release Petyr; the demon had been successful.

Calm flooded into the northern man as the compulsion to not kill in front of his daughter settled in his brain. It was then that Cat pulled her daughter to her side further away from Lord Baelish; as if Sansa actually needed her mother to free her from Petyr's attention.

The green-eyed demon rolled his head and made a show of fixing his cravat which was mostly to buy himself time to reach for Sansa via their connection. She gripped onto him with her own soul and instantly everything felt okay again.

"You will leave Winterfell Hall tonight!" Ned growled out. "I never want to see you in The North again. Go back to your brothels and debauchery."

Petyr opened his mouth but no words managed to slip free since Catelyn beat him to it.

"Please, Petyr. Please just do as he says."

The Lord of Harrenhal took a moment to assess the situation and all the different outcomes for things he might say, but ultimately decided to acquiesce to the elder redhead he'd once thought was his soulmate.

"As you wish, Cat. My valet can have me packed and departed within the hour." He flashed a small smile to Sansa, one of comfort. "Sweetling."

Oddly, as Petyr walked further away to the other side of the room Sansa didn't feel abandoned, she could still sense Petyr's arms wrapped around her lovingly thanks to their ever-increasing bond. And then it happened, right as Lord Baelish took the first step over the threshold to leave the large room both he and Sansa ground to a halt and shuddered, his movement was much more noticeable than Sansa's since he'd been walking at the time but thankfully neither Stark parent said anything about it. Sansa didn't know what it felt like for her beloved demon but she assumed it was the same feeling. Their bond didn't just strengthen, it became rock-solid, all of Sansa's emotions bubbled up inside her then roared down through their connection to him while his mirrored. Tingling took over her body, a somehow comforting and erotic experience all at once and the redhead couldn't quite prevent the small gasp which escaped her lips. In that moment the teenager felt more alive, felt more grounded, felt more whole, just felt more. In an instant their eyes snapped to one another, stunning blue met intoxicating green both with the same screamed expression of 'did you feel that?!' passed between them. Was it-? Could it have been... the start of their immortality?

"Get out, Baelish!" Growled Ned, leave it to him to ruin Petyr's and Sansa's special moment. "I don't care what you were sent here to do, Sansa stays here!"

The Lord of Harrenhal obeyed and vanished through the door entirely but to Sansa it was like arms were still around her, as if his breath were on her neck and words of love were being muttered into her ear. There bond had always been strong, after all, Petyr had known where she'd be several decades before she'd even been conceived, but this was new. Is this how Oberyn and Elaria feel?

Regretfully the teenager didn't have long to bask in this strange new connection because her parents still glared at her. She tried to focus on it just a little bit longer but then her mother was talking and it all faded away.

"I knew he'd darkened but to take advantage of a seventeen-year-old girl, I didn't think even Petyr would stoop so low."

Sansa blinked rapidly, that wasn't what had happened.

"He's always been a snake, dear, bloody monster and nobody knows what the hell he's planning until it's too late. He's worse than the damn Lannisters."

That wasn't true either! Yes he was conniving and made sure he got what he wanted but Petyr was still noble and just compared to the damn lions; except for maybe Tyrion.

"Can you please stop acting as though he stole my virtue in some sordid attempt to leave me a spinster my entire life!" Sansa hissed before forcing herself to shut off from her parent's anger lest she continue to respond in kind. "I haven't been conned, duped, or – heaven's forbid – raped."

Ned wiped a hand down his face while Cat did her best to prevent her rage seeping from her pores.

"Sansa," began Catelyn, "even if you chose to- to lay with Petyr freely you are still no longer a maiden. What is your future husband going to say? Would he even still wish to wed you? Sansa, you have no idea what this means for you."

"It means I made a choice for myself." Sansa sighed, she was half-way to tears by this point. "I'm so sorry, Mother, I don't mean to hurt you and I know you won't believe me but I love him and no matter what you say I know he loves me. He may be a relentless businessman, and I won't pretend I know quite how much he's planning, but he is not a monster incapable of love." Ned's eye twitched. "I don't want to marry Joffrey, I keep telling you and I know why you're insistent, I truly do, but marriage to him is as good as a death sentence. I haven't even met Harry Hardyng, he's just a portrait I've seen, but I do know marriage to him would be loneliness and misery. But, if you let me wed Petyr, I can be happy, I will be loved and listened to in a way that transcends even the marriage between the two of you. Also, the family shall not be shamed by me no longer being a maiden, he literally doesn't care and wants to marry me for me not a dowry or to have me as a pretty bauble."

The redhead was desperate, could feel Petyr's arms tighten around her through their now strengthened bond, and for a second, just a small second, Sansa thought Ned and Cat might actually listen to what she was telling them, but then their faces hardened.

"No." Said Catelyn. "You shan't marry Lord Baelish."

"He's a high lord, the Master of Coin and has two seats even if the first is small. He is a good match for me and you know it."

Catelyn's eyes darkened. "You shall not speak to me in such a way, Sansa Stark. I have made my decision and that is final."

Sansa couldn't take it any longer, why did her life always have to be someone else's choices and decisions? She just wanted her parents to feel how she did, how heart-broken and angry she was to constantly be denied being with the one person she'd ever – or would ever – love. Her breath came more rapidly and then, just as with Septa Mordane, she shoved a barrage of emotions at her parents, ever single bit of hurt and sorrow she had she threw at them so that even for a moment they would know how their daughter truly felt, how she was slowly being killed from the inside out.

After a moment Sansa blinked away her anger and forced herself to calm down with the aid of Petyr's ever-present comfort. The redhead didn't like forcing emotions on others and had at one point told herself she never would but anger seemed to always get the better of Sansa. She glanced up expecting to be yelled at and sent to her chambers like a child but instead she found sort tears rolling down he cheeks of both her parents. Sansa hadn't ever seen her father cry before and it was all too much, so she ran.