A/N: Alrighty! Happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate it. That's why I'm late today. I slept in lol. But here's the chapter, entirely in Sansa's perspective. I really enjoyed writing her in the modern day, so there are a lot of fun interactions. Enjoy!

Chapter 18: Seasons of my Love

Sansa woke up in a room that was not her own, on a couch, feeling as if her head was trying to personally murder her. That much wasn't a surprise. After Joffrey had left the party, she had way more to drink than she should have. At one point, she blacked out. So where was she now?

Slowly she sat up and looked around. She was still at the penthouse it seemed and she wasn't the only one. Tons of other party goers were passed out around the room and some were still nursing drinks after staying up all night.

Sansa quickly checked her clothes to make sure nothing had happened. They were all in place and didn't appear ruffled at all. She winced when she moved too fast, pressing her palm against her head. Fuck.

"Here."

Sansa opened her eyes to see a drink in front of her. And it took her a moment to register Tyrion Lannister holding onto it.

"Hangover cure," he said. "It seems you need one."

Sansa eyed him cautiously for a moment before she accepted, drinking. She nearly spat it out. "Gods, it's disgusting."

"Cayenne pepper and lemon juice. Not the best flavor combination," he said. "But, it'll do the trick."

Sansa nodded, choking the rest down, her face twisting as she did. He took the glass back from her when she held it out. "Thank you."

"It was a simple fix."

"No... not for that," Sansa said. "For making Joffrey leave last night. I know he's your nephew, so I thought I might have to leave."

"Oh, believe me Miss Stark," Tyrion said. "I far prefer your company to Joffrey's company. I prefer nearly anyone's company to Joffrey's. Except perhaps my father's. I'll have to think about that." He shrugged. "I should thank you for giving me an excellent excuse to throw him out."

Sansa's mouth twitched. "Still. Most people don't like to stand up to him because he's a Baratheon and a Lannister."

"Yes, yes. He's half a Lannister. But as a full Lannister, I trump him," Tyrion said. "Really, Sansa. Think no more of it."

"You don't share your family fixation with debts?" Sansa ventured. She knew that his father gave her brother and mother a difficult time. And his sister was no different.

"I do," Tyrion said. "But I don't consider this a debt."

She nodded once, satisfied, but the motion sent another bolt of pain through her skull. "I... don't remember everything that happened toward the end of the night. It wasn't anything... bad, was it?"

"No, no," Tyrion said. "You were no worse off than most of those who are still here. And if you worry about anyone taking advantage of you, don't." He indicated a man standing by the wall. "That's my bodyguard Bronn. I always bring him to these to make sure that nothing terrible happens. You passed out on this couch at 5:00 AM and no one disturbed you."

Sansa let out a relieved breath, pushing her red hair back over her shoulder. "Again. Thank you. Most parties aren't so considerate."

"Well, this party is for charity, my dear. It has to be considerate," Tyrion said.

Sansa gave him a look. "Charity?"

"Yes," Tyrion said, sipping from a flask. Despite having drunk consistently throughout the night, he did not seem hungover. Perhaps because he was still drunk. "I wanted to offer an alternative to that fucking gala but I'm not going to steal money from charity. I'll donate the proceeds somewhere useful."

"I didn't hear anything about that," Sansa said.

"Because I didn't tell the press," Tyrion said. "And I find that young people give away their money more freely at bars than charity galas so here we are. I wouldn't have wanted to dissuade them from generosity."

Sansa tilted her head to the side, observing him. She had heard stories about the younger Lannister from her friends. Most of them were about the parties he hosted and the sheer amount of alcohol he could drink for someone of his size. Lecherous was another word to describe him. The press had seen him with tons of different women.

He was popular amongst people Sansa's age because he was a rebel of sorts, fighting against his sinister father. Anyone who did not fear Tywin Lannister was worthy of respect. So she had to admit, donating to charity seemed out of character for him. Based on the stories, at least.

Maybe some stories were wrong.

"Anyhow, promise not to tell my secret to the press," Tyrion said. "I wouldn't want to get credit for any of this."

"I promise," Sansa said softly.

"Good," Tyrion said. "Now, do you have a car? I can call you a ride if you need one. Your mother must be worried."

"I texted her last night and told her I would stay with friends and come home in the morning," Sansa said. "Which was... technically a lie."

"We're not friends?" Tyrion said with an air of mock offense.

Sansa laughed once. "I'm not sure Starks are supposed to be friends with Lannisters, sir."

"Oh, gods, please don't call me sir," he said. "You make me feel old."

"Aren't you?"

"I am twenty-nine. I'm not old for another year thank you very much," Tyrion straightened his collar. "Well, whether or not your mother is worried, I can still offer you a car."

Sansa thought about it. But then again, she didn't really want her family to know that she had been out at a Lannister's party last night. Theon had seen her there, and she had sworn him to secrecy. Her mother wouldn't approve. Her brother wouldn't approve. And sometimes Sansa wasn't sure which was worse.

She shook her head at last. "No, thank you. I think I'm too nauseous for a car." She stood, grabbing her purse and quickly checking to make sure nothing was missing. "I think I'll walk for a bit. I'll take the bus when I'm ready to go home. I have enough for a fair."

"Suit yourself," Tyrion said. "I hope to see you again, Miss Stark. I promise, any party you frequent will be free of Joffrey."

"That's kind of you," Sansa smiled. "Thank you again, sir. Or... sorry. Tyrion."

"Any time, Sansa," Tyrion said, raising his flask.

It was a pleasant morning and warm enough that Sansa could enjoy a walk. Her head still throbbed but the fresh air made it more tolerable. Walking like this always helped her to clear her head after a long night.

She used to walk for hours after her father died and her sister disappeared. She would leave home and just walk for as far as her feet would take her and she would barely pay attention to where she was going. Sometimes she ended up in neighborhoods she had never seen before or inside coffee shops she hadn't known existed. She had lived in King's Landing all of her life and yet there were so many places she had never seen. People she never would have noticed.

Not that it was all good. Often on her walks, men called at her from across the street, hollering many crude things about her body. But Sansa was used to that from high school. And anyway, following the deaths of her family... it was harder for those things to bother her.

That had been a problem, she supposed. She put up with a lot of pain and mistreatment because it seemed less bad compared to what she had already lost. She put up with Joffrey because he was terrible but... being alone seemed worse.

She found herself standing on a corner across the street from an ice cream parlor. This part of town she knew well. In fact, her father used to take them for ice cream here. It was close enough to her old school that she and her siblings could walk there afterwards.

She remembered that after her first break up with Joffrey, when she was sixteen, she had gone there with Arya and Bran. Back then, she and Arya clashed often, but that day Arya was so proud of her for finally dumping Joffrey's "worthless ass".

"I knew you'd come around," she said. "I always knew. And now you're free of him. This is a celebration!"

Breaking up with him the first time had been a trial for Sansa. He had cheated on her but he later spread rumors she had been the one sleeping around. Half the school believed them. Half the school didn't. It was a wretched time, but sitting in the ice cream parlor with her siblings she had forgotten it all for a little while.

That was two months before the accident and three months before Arya disappeared. In such a short time, Bran was in a wheelchair and his sweet smile vanished. So did Arya.

The ice cream parlor was full of ghosts now. And even thinking about it made Sansa nauseous again.

She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone to distract herself but found it dead. Shit. She should have borrowed a charger from Tyrion before she left his apartment. For all she knew, her mother had called her and was worried sick about where she was. And she hated to worry her mother like that, especially since she had already lost Arya.

A honk to her left startled her, and she looked to the side to see a familiar face leaning out the car window. Petyr Baelish, her mother's old friend.

"Sansa," he said. "You're a long way from home, aren't you?"

"Yes." Sansa wandered over to his window. "I was... out with friends last night."

He raised an eyebrow. "Out with friends at Tyrion Lannister's party?"

Heat rose to Sansa's cheeks. "No."

He grinned. "No need to lie to me, child. It seemed everyone was there last night. But don't worry. I won't tell your mother."

"Thank you," Sansa murmured. "I just... you know how my family is with Lannisters."

"Oh, I know," Baelish said. "I can hardly blame them. Personally, I'm glad your mother and brother put up a good fight against them. It helps my business if the Lannisters don't have a monopoly on luxury technology."

"Right. Your startup." Sansa shifted from foot to foot. "How is that?"

"Doing well," Baelish said. A car behind him honked, and he laughed. "Get in. I'll give you a ride home if you'd like."

Sansa sighed. She didn't really want to go home yet, but with her phone dead, she knew she shouldn't stay out much longer. "Do you have a charger?"

"King's Landing isn't exactly the environment for startups," Baelish told her once she was sitting in the car, waiting for her phone to charge. "Not with these big names in the industry. I never would've gotten off the ground without help."

"Help from whom?" Sansa asked.

"My investors. I had a few ideal contacts from Baratheon Incorporated from when I worked there. I was the numbers guy for Robert Baratheon, if you remember," Baelish said. "And then, your mother gave me some help. She's a brilliant woman, you know. Shame that she never got to use that degree of hers until now."

"She was busy raising us," Sansa said.

"Yes. Did a fine job of it too," Baelish said. "And now she does a fine job helping your brother. I hear she's gone toe to toe with Tywin Lannister himself on occasion. That takes guts."

Yes, it did. Sansa had only met him in passing, but he seemed like a frightening man. He was not from the north, but his gaze was like pure ice. Her mother had always been tough as nails though, so she was not surprised that she could match him.

"I didn't get along with your father," Baelish admitted. "But I have to admit, King's Landing would be doomed if he hadn't been around to oppose Tywin. The lion would own everything in town. I'm grateful to your father for that at least."

"Why didn't you get along with my father?" Sansa asked.

"Our personalities clashed," Baelish said. "There are some people you just can't like... even if you respect them. You'll understand when you're older."

Sansa nodded once, looking down at her phone again. It was taking forever to turn back on and it made her nervous.

"And what about you, sweet girl?" Baelish asked. "How have you been?"

"All right," Sansa said.

"It surprised me when you didn't go to university this year," Baelish said. "You always had good grades."

"It's not the grades," Sansa said. "I... needed a break." And anyway, her grades in her last few semesters of school had been wretched. Losing her father and sister had made it too hard to concentrate on such things so she dropped from a model student to barely passing. Perhaps she could still get into university just fine but... she was afraid if she tried she would fail. And failing her family—disappointing them yet again—she couldn't handle that.

"I understand that. You want to live for a bit before moving on," Baelish said. "Did you ever think about joining the business with your family?"

"I've thought about it, yes," Sansa said. "I'm not sure if I would be any good."

"Nonsense. You're a beautiful, charming girl."

"What does that have to do with the business?"

"Everything, Sansa," Baelish flashed her a smile. "So much about gaining allies is about getting them to like you. And you won't have any problem with that."

She felt his hand on her shoulder, giving it a good-natured squeeze. But she was hyper aware of his thumb circling her bare skin, lingering for just a little too long.

Everyone knew that Petyr Baelish was in love with her mother from a young age, but he had given up hope of being with her a long time ago. After her father died, Baelish was around the house an awful lot and Sansa had wondered, for a bit, if her mother might seek comfort in him to fill the gap her father had left behind. But her mother was too strong for that, and even with father dead, she did not have feelings for Baelish. He seemed to have accepted that gracefully enough, though she was not present for any of their private discussions.

Sansa looked like her mother when she was young. Everyone said so. They said she had the Tully looks. The Tully beauty. Baelish himself had offered her that compliment once or twice. She was not naïve. She knew that when he looked at her, he must see her mother young again. So the subtle movement of his thumb across her skin was no surprise to her. But still it made her grip tighten on her phone.

Her phone turned on again, and she used the excuse to shift away from him as she raised it closer. "Finally. Thank the gods."

Sure enough, there were multiple missed texts and calls from her mother. And not just from her mother. Robb too.

"Dammit," Sansa muttered. "I told them I was staying overnight with friends. Did they forget?"

"I'm sure they didn't forget," Baelish said. "But after what happened to your sister, you can't blame your mother for being a little paranoid."

No. She couldn't. She quickly started tapping out a response. "How far are we from my house?"

"Fifteen minutes. Not far," he said.

"Good." She sent the text.

S: Sorry, my phone was dead. Stayed over with friends. Home in fifteen.

Still, the content of the text messages worried her. Telling her to come home 'as soon as possible'? What if something else had happened? It was that time of the year after all. The time of year when something terrible happened to people she loved.

But she just could not bear another tragic autumn.

Baelish pulled up in front of her house and insisted on walking Sansa to the door though she insisted that he didn't have to. Baelish laughed her off and said that he wanted to say hello to her mother, anyway.

When her mother answered the door, she was relieved to see Sansa, but her expression tensed a bit when she saw Baelish. "Petyr. It's... good to see you. Did you give Sansa a ride home?"

"I ran into her while she was going on a walk," Baelish said. "Her phone was dead, so I offered her a lift home. Not to worry, Cat. Your daughter was in good hands."

"I'm sure she was. Thank you for that," she said. "I'd offer you a drink but things are hectic today, so..."

"No worries. I'll take a rain check on the drink," Petyr stepped off the porch. He gave Sansa a smile. "Until next time."

Sansa nodded once, forcing a smile in return. And when his car had disappeared down the drive, she turned to her mother.

"I'm sorry. I didn't text earlier. My phone died and-"

"It's all right," Catelyn said, gesturing quickly for Sansa to come inside. She seemed almost nervous as she closed the door and locked it behind her. "I wasn't texting because I was worried. Well... I was worried but, it was something else."

Sansa felt an icy fear go through her. "Did something happen? Did someone get hurt?"

"No," Catelyn said. "That is... something happened, but it's a good thing. Mostly." Her mother rested a hand on her upper arm. "Your sister. She came home."

Sansa blinked, not entirely processing what her mother was saying. "What do you mean... came home? Arya is dead."

"No. She's not," Catelyn said. "She's upstairs right now. In Bran's room, I think. She came back this morning. Or at least... Tywin Lannister brought her back this morning."

Her mother's explanation cleared up nothing. "I don't understand."

Her mother told her the short version of the story. That Arya had been missing for three years and they didn't know where. But it was likely that she had not stayed away of her own volition. They had to be careful with her. Delicate. And they were cooperating with the Lannisters to figure out what was going on. Sansa was not to tell a soul outside of their family that Arya was alive. Sansa understood all the words in theory, but her heart and mind were a swirl of confusion. She was not entirely convinced that she was awake. Maybe she was still on Tyrion Lannister's couch, dreaming.

But even her dreams were not as strange as this.

"I know it's a lot," her mother said. "I haven't figured it all out myself. Just... go up and see your sister. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

Sansa nodded slowly. "Right... all right."

She turned and forced herself to move up the stairs. As if this was real and not a dream. As if this was actually happening. She took one step after another, up the stairs, and down the upper west hall.

There was music coming from Bran's room. Rickon's guitar. He had gotten good with it over the past two years. His therapist said it was a good way to channel his energy to keep him from getting into so many fights and it had worked, for the most part.

"I can play lots of songs," he called out. "Give me anything."

"Play 'Hands of Gold'," Jon said.

"That's overplayed, Jon," Bran said. "Something else."

"Season of my love?" a voice suggested. And Sansa recognized it immediately. That was Arya. Her Arya. She paused mid-step because the voice hit her like a punch to the stomach.

"Really?" Bran asked. "You always hated that song."

He was right. She had. Sansa, on the other hand, had loved it and had played it on loop in her room for nearly a week. At one point, Arya had burst into her room and ran for her iPod.

"No more. Sansa. I'm losing my mind. Something ELSE."

Sansa had fought her over it then, but Arya got her wish a few days later. That was the song Sansa had been listening to the night of the crash. After their father died... the melody lost its appeal.

"I haven't listened to much new music," Arya said. "It's the only one I could think of. Can you play it?"

"Sure," Rickon said. "That's an easy one."

The gentle music filtered out into the hall like a lullaby, a familiar sound from a distant time when things were better.

"I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair. Seasons of my love."

That was Robb's voice. He had always had a lovely voice, but he didn't keep up with singing once he took over the business. He didn't have much time for anything so frivolous then.

"I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair. Seasons of my love."

There was laughing from inside the room as Sansa finally found herself at the door, peering through the little crack. Sure enough, all her siblings crowded inside. All of them. Including Arya, who sat next to Rickon on the bed, watching him pluck away at the strings, a soft smile on her face.

"I loved a maid as white as winter with moonglow in her hair. Seasons of my love."

"That's beautiful, both of you," Jon said. "You should quit the business and start a band."

"I'll play the drums," Arya said.

"Quiet," Rickon said. "The song isn't finished yet."

"I loved a maid as spry as spring with blossoms in her hair. Seasons of my-"

The singing stopped as Robb looked up and noticed Sansa standing in the door. She swallowed hard and eased it open, stepping into the doorway. Arya stiffened on the bed when she saw her, her eyes going wide.

"Sansa."

"Hey," Sansa said. "I heard you... came home."

"Yeah," Arya said, slipping off the bed and standing in the center of the room. "Yeah, I'm home."

She was nervous. She was waiting for Sansa to shout at her or ask her why. And Sansa wanted to do exactly that. She wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. Demand an explanation. She might have done exactly that if her mother had not prepared her. And looking at Arya now, her anger seemed to die.

It was how she was carrying herself. Slumped shoulders, nervous eyes, hands stuffed in her pockets. Arya never used to look like that. She entered a room proudly and confidently. She never apologized, even when she was wrong. She was small, but she filled the room. Now she barely seemed to fill her own body.

"I'm glad," Sansa said, her voice cracking. "Welcome home." She held out her arms and Arya rushed into them. Sansa wrapped her in a tight hug.

"Wow," Rickon said. "Look at this. It's the six of us again." Sansa opened her eyes to look at him over Arya's shoulder and saw that her brother was crying. "I never thought it would be the six of us..."

No. None of them had. Once Arya disappeared, they had all resigned themselves to being five instead of six. But standing in the room with all of her siblings, Sansa could not help but feel a surge of joy.

It had been a long time since she had felt anything like that.

A little while later, Arya sat on Sansa's bed, awkwardly rubbing her hands together as Sansa changed clothes from the previous night to look more presentable. She was brushing her hair when Arya spoke up.

"I saw you at Tyrion's party last night."

Sansa's brow furrowed, and she studied her sister's reflection in the mirror. "You were there?"

"I don't know if mother explained it to you but, yes. I was posing as Myrcella Baratheon's bodyguard," Arya said. "You saw me for half a second, but then you got distracted."

Sansa's eyes widened. "I did see you. For a minute in the dark, I recognized you but I thought it must be a mistake." She glanced over her shoulder. "You didn't tell anyone I was at that party, did you?"

"Why? Would that be a bad thing?" Arya asked.

"It's a party held by a Lannister," Sansa said.

"Well, I'm on the Lannister payroll so I can't exactly judge," Arya pointed out.

Sansa laughed once at that. "How did you manage that?"

"Cersei liked me," Arya said.

"Impossible. Cersei Lannister doesn't like anyone." She turned to face Arya, pointing at her with her brush. "And she especially didn't like you after you broke her son's nose."

"He deserved it," Arya point out.

"I'm not saying he didn't," Sansa said, returning to detangling her hair. It really was a mess. She wondered if she should cut it soon, just so she had less hair to deal with.

"I... saw what happened with Joffrey last night," Arya ventured cautiously.

Sansa kept her face impassive. "Did you?"

"Yes," Arya said. "Myrcella said you dated again, a few years ago."

"Yeah. We did," Sansa turned around to face her, leaning against her vanity. "I know what you'll say Arya. That I should have known better. That he's trash and I'm better than that and I was being stupid. But really... I don't think you have any right to lecture me. We all had our own terrible ways of dealing with Dad's death. I dated Joffrey, and you disappeared so..."

"I wasn't going to say that," Arya murmured, looking down at her hands. "I just... I'm sorry. I heard you didn't start until after you thought I was dead so I felt responsible for that. I'm sorry."

Sansa blinked. She wasn't used to her sister apologizing, especially not with such sincerity. But there was that smallness again. Like her soul could not even fill her small frame. She had apparently been passing as a professional and strong-willed body guard for the past month and Sansa found it difficult to see how. How could she pass as Beth Rivers when she could barely pull off Arya Stark?

"Don't be sorry," Sansa said. "I made my own choices. I'll live with them. You don't have to take responsibility."

Arya nodded once, biting her lip. Sansa went over to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm just glad you're back. I really am," she said. "I haven't even processed it yet because... well, I think it must be a dream but... you feel real."

"I am real," Arya said. "I am."

"Good," Sansa said. "Then don't leave again."

There was a long silence before Arya replied. "I'll try."

It wasn't a strong promise, but Sansa tried not to dwell on that fact.

A/N: Complicated reunion between the two sisters with a complicated relationship. Stark angst galore! Next time we'll get an individual convo between Arya and Jon, but we're coming shortly to the end of the Stark angst reunion chapters. Until then, review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!