Every night he would return. His hands would be all over her, his lips…This needs to stop…THIS NEEDS TO STOP! she thought every time she tossed up from her bed after such a dream. Her thoughts were screaming inside her head, deafening her.
"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Arya asked her one night and sat on her bed with her. In the dark it was hard to tell whether her sister looked concerned or annoyed; and yet something in her voice was different. She wasn't teasing nor mocking her. She was trying to comfort her.
"I'm having these dreams…" Sansa began but her voice broke. She couldn't tell her about the dark stranger. If she did, their whole family would find out eventually.
"What dreams?" Arya insisted and leaned her shoulder against her sister's.
"About…about father." She lied. Four more days had passed since the feast and still no sign of their father. Castle Black had sent some of their men after him, in case they found any tracks; but no news had reached Winterfell, if there were any at all.
Arya fell in silence. They were all scared about Lord Eddard's fate. If there was something bad to happen to him, it would be Robb who would take his place as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Lady Catelyn prayed for her husband every day and night; Sansa felt ashamed for not doing the same but her fear had kept her away from the godswood. It would be normal if I had dreams about father…but I don't. What's wrong with me?
She felt Arya wrapping her arms around her and sighing. She couldn't remember the last time they had had a moment like this…and still, I lied to her.
"Our father will return. You'll see." Arya sounded so certain and yet her words were only based on hope. Isn't that what we all have in the end; hope?
Eventually her sister returned to her bed and they both went back to sleep. I will visit the godswood on the morrow and pray for my father's return, Sansa promised to herself and gripped her pillow before drifting off to sleep.
She got up when the first rays of sunlight invaded the room. She changed into a casual light purple gown and sat by the window to brush her long auburn hair. She watched the streets of Winterfell beginning to come back to life as people were just waking up and returning to their daily work. Then, she caught glimpse of her mother and her brother Robb at the gates, discussing with a couple of horse riders who soon after exited the walls of Winterfell and vanished into the fog. When she went downstairs to break her fast, Lady Catelyn and Robb had returned.
"Who were those riders?" she asked hesitantly, after a long moment of silence between all of them. Was it because of grief? Because of concern and fear? She couldn't tell.
It was her brother who answered to her.
"We sent six of our best riders to go North towards the Wall and search for father." Robb's composure during hard times was a gift he had gotten from their mother.
Sansa nodded and focused back on her lemon cake, making a successful attempt to suppress a sigh that was threatening to escape. Deep down, a voice was telling her that if her father was to be found, it would have happened already; but she refused to believe that. She could not believe that. Her father had survived the rebellion against the Mad King. Him and Robert Baratheon, who was now King of the Seven Kingdoms, had ended Aerys Targaryen's dynasty.
She found herself having lost her appetite. She folded her hands politely on her lap and looked at her mother; Lady Catelyn was silent that morning. But Sansa could see that behind her mask of tranquility hid one of the greatest fears; the fear of loss.
"May I be excused? I wish to visit the godswood, to pray for father." She announced and stood up from the table when Catelyn gave her a nod of agreement.
Unlike the last time she had visited the godswood, the weather that day was sunny. The beams of bright sunlight fell upon the red leaves of weirwood trees, colouring them with a darker scarlet shade. Her dainty fingers would trail along the trunks of the trees as she walked amongst them. It was a beautiful day; if only it could also be embraced with good news of her father's fate.
She arrived at the praying spot, next to the small lake whose surface was reflecting the trees encircling it; but that didn't catch her attention. She had frozen in her tracks, staring at the man who sat on a rock next to the Heart Tree. He was staring at her as well, his eyes as green as their surroundings.
"I thought you would never come." She heard him muttering.
Petyr Baelish patted the rock he was sitting on. His sharp features were graced with an oracular smirk. "Join me." He added.
Does he actually think I will join him? Sansa didn't move. She crossed her arms over her chest, in a defensive position. Should I run away?
"Are you following me?" she asked, surprised at how dynamic her voice sounded in comparison to all the other times she had come across to him.
He chuckled in amusement, revealing his white perfectly shaped-teeth. She avoided looking at his lips; the lips she kept dreaming of; the lips that had touched hers and had made it impossible to forget how they tasted.
"What do you want?" she asked again, since he didn't seem to plan on answering her previous question. His intense gaze was beginning to make her feel uneasy.
"Come here." He patted the space on the rock next to him again. This time he sounded more demanding and serious, though his smirk didn't fade away.
Reluctance took over her. What could he do to me? Kiss me. Touch me. No, he will respect the godswood…won't he? I must be brave. Starks are brave. She inhaled deeply, gathering all her courage and step by step, she made her way towards him and sat down, formal and composed.
Her pale blue eyes met his grey-green ones. There was mockery and mischief sparkling in his pupils. Why is he always like this? Almost always. He wasn't like this when he kissed me.
"Why don't you want me to tell my mother you are here?" She kept showering him with questions, even though he wasn't willing to answer any of them. This time, though, his expression changed. She realised she had finally spoken the right words.
"I'm not welcome here." He plainly stated and pressed his lips together in a thin line.
"Why?" she instantly replied. Her scarlet brows furrowed together, forming a soft frown on her forehead. Her question seemed to amuse him even more since his smirk widened.
"Cat and I haven't spoken in years, I'm afraid." He rolled his shoulders in a shrug.
Vague answers; vague answers like mother gave me when I asked her about him. She decided against asking him again why. She fell in silence and contemplation, avoiding his enticing emerald gaze. She watched the surface of the water instead, as the light breeze soothed it with small waves.
"I don't understand…" she began, basically thinking out loud. "Why are you here? What do you want?" She shook her head, feeling a hint of frustration rising in her chest. Why am I here?
Sansa felt both of his hands grasping one of hers; immediately, she cast her eyes back on him. His touch was gentle so she didn't try to pull her hand back just yet. Do I even want to pull it back? Her thoughts made her shudder.
"Have you ever left Winterfell, Sansa? Have you ever travelled?" Again, he avoided answering her questions. That infuriated her even more, though following the example of her mother, she continued appearing serene.
"No. Never." What does he even care?
"Do you want to?"
She nodded. All those dreams of the capital, the South, the knights and the kings and queens…so many dreams; so many illusions. He seemed pleased by her confession.
"The world is large and full of opportunities. But are they enough?"
"Enough?" Her frown deepened. His words confused her. She shifted in her position but her hand was still captivated in his hold.
"It doesn't matter what we want. Once we get it, then we want something else." He explained didactically.
She didn't respond. Why is he telling me any of this? She felt ill at ease and pulled her hand back without much effort. I should be praying for father. He has to leave.
"So what is it you will be praying for today?" He asked, as if he had just read her thoughts. She shivered and rubbed her hands together uncomfortably. Mockery had returned in his tone.
"My father is missing." She admitted. Her voice was weak again; quivering.
In that moment, she could swear to the Old Gods and the New that his eyes gleamed brightly.
"So I've heard." He responded vaguely.
"Is that why you are here?" The timing of his appearance along with her father's disappearance was fitting; though she couldn't imagine why the two events could possibly be connected. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
He gave her a puzzling look and brought a hand upon her cheek. Her skin tingled, as if his sudden touch had set it on fire.
"Such innocence." He muttered. His grey-green eyes pierced through hers.
I have to stay focused. I have to stay calm. He won't…
Her thoughts didn't have a chance to be complete. Before she could back away, he had leaned in and his lips were on hers, swallowing her words, clouding her mind. She gasped at the contact; tempting but also intimidating. She turned away from his seductive kiss, forcing him to pull back.
"What are you doing?" She pressed the back of her hand against her lips and stood up from the rock so she could take a few steps away from him.
"I dare say you are more beautiful than your mother ever was." She heard him saying in a surprisingly soft voice. Does he think that gives him permission to kiss me? No. But does he even need permission?
"I don't know what happened between you and my mother. I don't know why you are here, why you are following me, why you are…" Kissing me. She didn't dare saying it out loud. "Please, stay away from me. Please." She had gathered all her courage in order to speak such words to him. His enigmatic nature troubled her. Her thoughts about him troubled her.
A moment of silence followed. She had to look at him, to understand how he felt; but his features gave nothing away. The only difference was that his smirk had faded. He nodded and stood up as well. The sunlight reflected on the silver mockingbird pinned on his collar. If I ask about it, it will only give him a reason to stay longer.
"I hope the Gods will hear your prayers, Sansa." His tone was so serious that she could almost believe he actually meant that. "We will meet again." He added as he walked past her.
She turned around so her pale blue gaze could follow his elegant figure. His dark clothing made contrast with their colourful surroundings; like a wolf among sheep. He paused a few metres away from her and gifted her one of his most malevolent smirks so far, making another chill go down her spine.
"Stay away." She repeated. She tried to speak calmly but her voice trembled. He seemed amused by it and elevated his eyebrows. He nodded and strolled into the forest until her sight lost him.
Only then could Sansa feel herself breathing normally again. Will he truly stay away? Their meetings so far had done nothing more than confuse her, scare her and give her nightmares…and perhaps something more than that, which she refused to admit to herself. She returned to the rock by the Heart Tree and stared at the curved face upon the trunk. Her eyes fluttered shut. She emptied her mind of any other concerns; now she was alone, in the company of the Old Gods, the ones her father also believed in and prayed to. Protect him, she thought. Protect him and bring him back to me.

By the time the sun had set, clouds had begun gathering in the sky, preventing the last rays of sunlight to touch the ground. The rain started falling when the Stark family was having dinner.
"Even the sky cries for our father." Bran murmured and poked a piece of meat on his plate with his fork.
"Don't say that, Bran." Rickon, the youngest, complained. Sorrow was sparkling in the little boy's eyes.
Such innocence, Sansa heard Petyr Baelish's voice in her mind. She couldn't help but notice the glances Robb exchanged with their mother; if there had been any news from father, they would have said it, no matter how hard it would be. No wonder the more the days passed, the less hope grew. Robb would need to start preparing for the alternative scenario where he rules Winterfell and the North, in case their father never returns. Sansa picked up her cup of wine and gulped down all its contents hastily. The dinner was quiet, as if they were grieving already of a loss they couldn't be certain about. When they were all done eating, Bran chased Rickon around the table whereas Robb carried Arya around on his shoulders. Sansa and Catelyn were left alone sitting at the table.
"Do you think father will be found?" the red-haired maiden dared to ask her mother.
The candles' flames were dancing inside Catelyn's pupils, colouring her eyes with a darker azure tint. She reached over the table and touched her daughter's small, pale hands; a clear act of comfort.
"We will find Ned."
Such words could be spoken so easily and yet Sansa found a sad truth behind them; her mother truly believed them. Her hope, her denial, they wouldn't let her despair. She was drowning in a sorrowful serenity, just like Arya; just like all of them.
Sansa fiddled with her auburn locks. A queasy feeling had begun taking over her. This time I must have drunk my wine very fast indeed. She left the hall before her other siblings and went upstairs to her room, to undress and tuck in bed. Sleep came to her almost right away.
That night the stars were missing from the sky. That night dreams were missing from her sleep. The war that Petyr Baelish had started within her mind had ended; but the one he had started in reality was just beginning. When Sansa woke up, her life in Winterfell was long gone.