Sansa dedicated her free time to stitching together a surprise that she was making for Jon. It was a fur cloak fashioned similar to the one their lord father used to wear. It was very important that Jon knew that she saw him as family. As a Stark. And it was very important that the Northerners saw him wearing House Stark sigil. Everyone needed to know that House Stark was not dead. They needed to see that House Stark still lived, and it was reforming from its ashes.

She had spent all morning working on the cloak and it was coming along nicely. Sansa was rather pleased at the result because she did want Jon to like it. Even with all the political symbolism surrounding the fur cloak, deep down she also really wanted to show her appreciation to Jon for taking her in. There was knock on the door. "Yes?" she replied, her focus still on her sewing.

The door opened softly. "For you, m' lady," a guard said handing her a rolled letter with an unbroken seal.

Sansa took the letter, her body going cold as she saw the red Mockingbird wax sigil. Hands shaking slightly, she broke the wax, and unrolled the scroll, dreading what it might contain. She quickly skimmed the letter then ordered the guard to send for Lady Brienne.

"At once, m' lady," he replied, bowing and taking his leave.

Sansa quickly set the fur cloak aside, too tense to resume her stitching. She estimated Mole's Town to be about two miles away based on how close it seemed when she had viewed it on her way to the top of the wall. On horseback she would cover that distance in ten minutes or less. Fifteen minutes at most if the horse was to have difficulty in the snow.

Brienne immediately protested when she heard Sansa's plan to meet Littlefinger as Sansa had known she would. "My lady, he is dangerous and has already put you in danger before. I cannot allow you to go meet him."

"Brienne. I have to. He is less than two miles from here and it is even more dangerous to have him close by without knowing what he is up to," Sansa countered. "Please. I won't be able to sleep at night knowing how close he is."

Brienne looked down.

Sansa knew that she had put her in a difficult situation but she needed to know why. Why did Petyr give her to the Bolton heir?

"How do you intend to get past the gates? Your brother would never let you leave," Brienne reminded her.

"I won't tell him that I'm meeting Littlefinger. Plus I will take as many guards as needed to make him comfortable," Sansa retorted.

"He would still want to know why you're going to Mole's Town," Brienne argued.

"Moon tea," Sansa replied. "Jon will understand."

Brienne studied her, but remained silent.

Jon's face went pale when she told him that she was going to Mole's Town in search of moon tea. Shouldn't it be easier to send a steward? Jon had asked.

But Sansa had immediately insisted that she didn't want word spreading. This had to be a secret kept between few.

He finally gave in after laying a kiss on her forehead, a grave expression on his face.

Sansa favored him with a small smile, feeling slightly guilty at her deceit.

Once on their way, Brienne let Sansa know that she would not be alone in Littlefinger's presence for one second. Her voice was hushed so the guards in front of them and behind them wouldn't hear. They reached Moles' Town quickly and Sansa commanded the guards to stay-put while she entered the shack with the red lantern hung over the door. Littlefinger had described it to her and told her that he would be waiting. She didn't see any of his men around, so she wondered if they hid below in the underground tunnels, waiting to ambush in a surprise attack if one of her guards threatened his life. Sansa didn't expect the cold fury that rose up within her when she saw him.

"Sansa," he greeted. Brienne immediately walked in after her and Littlefinger masked his reaction well. "Lady Brienne," he said coolly, without missing a beat.

They both ignored his greetings.

"When I heard you'd escaped Winterfell, I feared the worse. You have no idea how happy I am to see you unharmed."

"Unharmed?" Her voice was like a whip as it cracked through the room."What are you doing here?"

"I rode North with the Knights of the Vale to come to your aide. They're encamped at Moat Cailin as we speak," Littlefinger informed.

"To come to my aide?" Every word that he uttered stroked her fury. "Did you know about Ramsay?" Sansa watched his lips move but she knew that everything he uttered were lies. All lies. Petyr knew everything. That's why she was willing to depend on him. Because a man who knew everyone's secrets, a man who was always one step ahead of everyone, a man that used real people as his pawn would be able to keep her safe.

And most importantly, he would never ever ever accidentally make a mistake like that. And that's why her fury and rage were so great. Because she knew it couldn't be an accident. He had wanted to hurt her. "What do you think he did to me?" Sansa demanded, cutting off his lies. Even now he attempted to manipulate her. He stared at her and she knew that he searched for her weakness.

"Lady Sansa asked you a question," Brienne broke in, hand on her hilt.

"He beat you," Littlefinger humored.

"Yes, he enjoyed that. What else do you think he did?" Sansa dismissed.

He seemed to lose patience. "Sansa I don — "

"What else?" she cut him off, refusing to be subjected to anymore of his lies. Her body was starting to faintly tremble from rage.

"Did he cut you?" Littefinger asked.

Sansa stared at him. "Maybe you did know about Ramsay all along."

"I didn't know," he rebutted.

"I thought you knew everyone's secrets." Her voice was calm but her eyes were burning.

"I made a mistake. A horrible mistake. I underestimated a stranger," Littlefinger stated.

You knew! She wanted to scream at him. You knew and you lied! And you're still lying! "I can still feel it!" Her voice was vehement as the words conjured up images of the vile things Ramsay had done to her. "I don't mean in my tender heart it still pains me so. I can still feel what he did in my body standing here right now!" And she could. The bruises and welts from his fists and belts. The scars and the unhealed cuts from his knife and teeth. The torn skin and searing pain from Ramsay forcing his body into her unspeakable places that he left raw.

Sansa was numb when she left Mole's Town. And empty. The confrontation had not given her the satisfaction that she was craving. More than anything she wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. She avoided Jon when they made it back to Castle Black, and immediately headed to her chamber. She reflected on how Littlefinger had originally wanted to take back Winterfell, as she changed out of her woolen gown and cloak and lay on her bed. In the typical Littlefinger way of scheming, of course someone was going to die. Her little cousin, Sweetrobin. At first Sansa had been willing, naive as she was, as Littlefinger continued scheming to kill her family.

Then one night Sweetrobin had made his way to her chamber, seeking motherly comfort in her bed as he was wont to do since the death of his lady mother. Sweetrobin had hugged her. "You're the only family I have left," he murmured drowsily. "You make me feel safe."

The guilt had nearly suffocated Sansa. Just like her, he had lost his family. They were really all each other had left. Blood of her blood. And yet here she was calmly compliant in his poisoning. Even encouraging it. Her conversation with Maester Coleman played through her head, as if shaming her further.

"Just give him a cup of the sweetmilk before we go, and another at the feast, and there should be no trouble," Sansa ordered airily.

"Very well...But this must be the last. For half a year, or longer."

"You had best take that up with the Lord Protector," she had dismissed snootily.

Colemon only wanted the best for his charge... but what was best for Robert the boy and what was best for Lord Arryn were not always the same. Petyr had said as much, and it was true. Maester Colemon cares only for the boy, though. [Petyr] and I have larger concerns.

Had she not lost enough family that she had been so eager to help send more to the grave? All because Littlefinger had told her that it must be done. But really he had been further isolating her from her family all so she would really and truly have no one but him to rely on as he continued to use her.

But after that night she had refused to aide in Sweetrobin's poisoning. "There has to be another way to get Winterfell back," she had stubbornly protested. Perhaps that was why Littlefinger sent her to Ramsay. To punish her for interfering with his elaborate plan to kill Sweetrobin and marry her off to Harrold Hardyng after he became Lord of the Vale. She knew in her heart that she was right.

There was a weird scratching at the door and Sansa was suddenly frightened. "Jon?" she called out hesitantly. There wasn't any human reply, just a low insistent howl. Sansa leapt out of the bed, sped across the chamber, and flung the door open, revealing Jon's massive albino direwolf on the other side. "Ghost!" she cried out, her heart swelling. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, unable to hold back the sobs. She sobbed the stress the day had wrought into his fur until it was damp.

Her heart couldn't help aching for her own wolf. She missed Lady, her sweet, gentle sidekick.