"Did... did you feel that?"

"Yes... it's weird!"

"Rickon, where are you? I'm coming to get you!"

"Robb? Where are you? I can hear you but I can't see you!"

"Bran, why didn't you want to come back with Robb?"

"I have to get to the Three-eyed Raven!"

"Wait... where are Bran and Rickon?"

"EVERYONE, QUIET!"

" Sorry Robb. All this while, I thought that I was the only one who could..."

"Well, Sansa, I started to see things since I woke after my fall..."

"This is crazy, I mean, how is it possible that we're all wargs at the same time?"

"Arya, this is not the time to speculate. We need a plan."

"What are you suggesting, Jon?"

"We can't go on like this. We'll go insane because we'll hear and see everything."

"We don't even know what caused this thing to happen, you know."

"Shut up, Arya! Jon's trying to think."

"Oh, you shut up! Just because you can't walk doesn't mean I can't..."

"Heeheehee, I miss Bran and Arya arguing..."

"Knock it off, you two..."

"You're not the boss of me, Robb."

"I am King and I am the boss of you, Arya."

"Is anyone touching their direwolves?"

"Sansa, you're right!"

"So, if we want to talk to each other, we just have to touch our direwolves at the same time."

"I don't think it will work that way, Rickon..."

"No, we can't do this all the time. Sansa can't take it."

"What... what did Oberyn tell you?"

"He told me enough."

"Wait... Oberyn? Oberyn Martell?"

"Yes, Bran, Sansa's married to the Red Viper."

"Wow... congratulations, I guess."

"Sansa's married? Why couldn't I come to the wedding?"

"So is Robb, Rickon."

"On the count of three, everyone gets their hands off their direwolves. No exceptions."

"Wait!"

"What now, Rickon?"

"I... I missed you all."

"We're all wargs," Sansa told Oberyn when she recovered from yet another trance which happened at the very moment she had touched Lady's head. Yet, this time, she was not shaking as hard, or was she visibly taxed. A tear fell from her eye, a tear of joy, he deemed. "I... I felt all of them, Oberyn. Robb, Arya, Bran, Jon and Rickon... We spoke to each other in our minds..."

Oberyn could do nothing but smile at her proclamation. "I am happy for you then," he told her, bringing her into his arms. "You see, you were never alone."

Sansa nodded, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "No, I wasn't," she repeated and Lady yelped happily. It had been a great revelation to her, and she was relieved. She knew that she was supposed to be angry at him for going behind her back to tell Robb of her... condition, but she could not find the strength or ability to resist him. To see him as overjoyed as she was in her knowledge that her siblings had the same abilities as she did, her heart was warmed and she realized that she could not love him more than she did already. She was truly blessed.

"Oh, my sweet Sansa," Oberyn murmured. It brought him a great amount of joy to see her so happy. He was no godly man, but he knew that only the Gods were capable of the abilities that Sansa and her siblings had. Yes, they were cruel, that for her, those blessings was a curse as well, but she was happy. To him, it would be all that mattered.

"I'm being incredibly stupid, aren't I?" Sansa asked, wiping her tears off. "It's a happy thing, and I'm here crying my eyes out..."

"You were always a contradictory woman," Oberyn teased as a result. "Now come, I think that we've been hiding in here for too long. Our presence will be missed."

It was one of the rare few days when Sansa decided that she would laze around and not do any work. Maester Caleotte had long since relieved her of her studies with him due to the speed of her progression in her studies and Oberyn was always willing to indulge her. They were laying on a chaise in a quiet part of the castle with Lady at their feet, hiding from the world. Ellaria would always be the one sent to locate them, and she has not found them yet.

"Just five more minutes," Sansa pouted, using his arm as a bolster. "We're not doing anything important today, are we?"

"No, but we are still playing host to Tyrion Lannister," Oberyn reminded her. "We also have to ensure that he gives his father a favorable report so that the crown would not suspect anything."

"Alright," Sansa said, getting up from the chaise. "Let's get this day over with."

"How are you feeling?" Robb asked Jon while they rode back to Castle Black after having burnt down Craster's Keep with the dead. Craster's daughter-wives refused to go with them, even after Robb had promised them safe passage through the North.

"Why?" Jon asked him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, Sansa would have a little... complication after she used her gifts, and I was wondering if you were fine."

"I am," Jon said. "I guess..."

Robb clapped him on the shoulder. "Good," he said.

"Robb... there's something I want to talk to you about," Jon said.

"What is it?"

"I... never got to thank you... for you know... making me a Stark."

"You're an idiot, Jon," Robb said. "You were always a Stark, even if you weren't Mother's son. Father didn't raise you to be any different than us, so I didn't see it as any big step. Besides, if you aren't a Stark, how could you be a warg like the rest of us?" Looking back, the day they brought the direwolves back with them was the day that cemented their fates as siblings. He would not have it any other way. It would also explain why it had been so easy for them to train the direwolves.

"So what do we do now?" Jon asked. "Does what we are change anything?"

Robb shook his head. "I don't know," he replied solemnly. "We only have these gifts. We don't know how to use them apart from Bran and Sansa. We'll have to learn how to use our powers quickly or we'll be given them for nothing. We can't wait for Bran to come back from the Three-eyed Raven."

"Agreed," Jon said. "But... how?"

"Oh, I don't know, Jon," he said. "Maybe we should sit in a circle and meditate?"

"Is that going to work?"

"I said I don't know, didn't I?"

They were interrupted by the Sand Snakes' chuckling. "The two of you bicker like our younger sisters," Obara observed.

"What's it to you, Obara?" Robb asked. "Don't all brothers and sisters do that?"

"They do," Nymeria said. "It's just funny because the fates of the world rests on your particular set of brothers and sisters and you still act like... everyone else. I don't know if I should find it comforting or disconcerting."

Robb and Jon looked at one another then towards the Sand Snakes. Robb rolled his eyes. "Your father set you up on this, didn't you?" he said, finally feeling the pressure of being King in the North again.

"Maybe," Obara said. "Maybe not... You'll never know, Your Grace."

"Oh, Gods..."

Talisa swore that she had never met a more... problematic man before she met Petyr Baelish, a man Arya referred to as Littlefinger. The fact that he was Catelyn's childhood friend and playmate was one thing, the fact that he held great political power - far more than any other man in Westeros, was another. Being from Volantis, she knew that bloodlines meant nothing in the grand scheme of politics, but this man had come from nothing and clawed his way to the pinnacles of power by his own efforts. It spoke volumes about his skills and his feats.

Now, he stood there, daring to propose marriage to Catelyn, just days after her sister's body was interred in the funeral grounds of the Vale. Catelyn had slapped him, leaving an angry, five-fingered mark on his cheek but he was unrepentant.

"Cat, listen to me," Littlefinger begged Catelyn. "You are widowed and I am a widower, we could use the company in our... advanced age."

"How dare you..." Catelyn bit back. "Did you have no love for Lysa?" she asked him. "How could you do this to her, you monster"

"She would have wanted us both to be happy," Littlefinger coaxed further.

Arya just looked at him with shock and disgust, while Talisa looked on with worry. "Lord Baelish, this matter cannot be decided by us alone," Talisa offered. "We must discuss this with my husband first. Please do understand..."

"Oh, take your time, Your Grace, by all means," Littlefinger replied. "Where is the Young Wolf, though, might I ask? The King in the North leaves his wife, mother and sister to rule in his stead while he is off..."

"The King is at the Wall, Lord Baelish," Talisa answered graciously. "He is honoring the great tradition of his family by assisting the Night's Watch in their time of need when no other Westerosi lord would answer such a call."

Littlefinger nodded. "Ah, the Wildling armies," he said. "How is the campaign running then? Mance Rayder is rumored to be marching against the Wall with a hundred thousand Wildlings... How does King Robb think he can defeat such a foe?"

Talisa knew the game he was playing. He was trying to goad her into revealing their position. "Those are matters that I know little of, my lord," she said. "I am only a simple woman from a simple home in Volantis."

"Oh, and how would a simple girl amass a Volantene fleet with the colors of House Maegyr, I wonder?"

Talisa only glared at him. However, she knew that if she left, she would be allowing him to intimidate her. "Lord Baelish, I am a Healer by trade," she reminded him after she softened her own expression. "I have no skill in politics at all. The ships were sent by my grandfather as a wedding present."

"And how would word of your need of ships reach Volantis?" Littlefinger added. "You came to Westeros unannounced, Your Grace. The Lannisters did not know of your status as a scion of House Maegyr until it was too late..."

"I write to my mother often," Talisa said. "We commandeered Lannister ships to send word there when my husband occupied the Westerlands to do the deed."

Finally receiving his answer, Littlefinger seemed placated. Sansa must never be exposed as their ambassador. At that moment in time, she was thankful that Robb had taken Obara and Nymeria with him. Their presence would have spoken volumes about Dorne's involvement with the North, and she feared deeply what he would do with such information.

"Talisa, our guests must be wary from their travels," Catelyn said loudly. "I would think that we should bring them to their accommodations, shall we not?"

Talisa smiled towards Catelyn and nodded her head. "Yes, Mother," she said. "Please follow me, Lord Baelish."

Once Talisa and Littlefinger were gone, Catelyn turned towards Arya. "Send a raven to Robb. Tell him that Lord Baelish is here and he is to come home immediately."

Arya nodded. "Come on, Nymeria," she called to her direwolf. "Let's go!"

They went up to the raven's tower and met with Maester Marlan, who was sent to Winterfell after word had reached the Citadel of Maester Luwin's death. He was a younger, sprightlier fellow who carried out orders without question. His greatest strength, however, was his discreet approach, and in those days, it was what the Starks needed the most. "Maester Marlan, I need to get a raven to Castle Black."

"Yes, dear Princess," he said. "Shall it be addressed to Prince Jon or King Robb?"

"Robb," Arya said. "I'll write it."

The Maester quickly provided Arya some paper, ink and a quill. "Here you go, Princess."

"Thanks," Arya replied before hastily scribbling the message she needed to send. Within a matter of minutes, a raven was sent for Castle Black and now, all they had to do was wait.

She returned to her room the moment she had the opportunity to. With Nymeria close to her, she tried to concentrate. She was worried that the raven that she had sent might not get to Robb in time, and attempted to warg into Nymeria. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and focused on entering Nymeria's mind. She tried not to move an inch, but in the end, Nymeria barked at her, indicating that she was not successful at all.

Grimacing, she asked herself, "Why can't I do anything right?"

Nymeria whimpered and copied her movements as she slumped on her bed.

"What makes Sansa and Bran so special that they can do what they do and I just end up doing nothing?"

Still, there was no response from Nymeria.

"I'm trying to get into your head, you know, don't just stand there, help me!"

All she got from Nymeria was a yawn.

"Princess, are you in there?" came a loud bang on the door. From the gruff voice, Arya guessed that it was the Hound. He had gotten quite used to calling her "Princess" ever since he entered Robb's service, a habit that he had picked up just to annoy her.

"What do you want?" she asked the Hound.

"Littlefinger's up to no good," he said. "But I can't follow him around. He'll see me and I'm not familiar with the castle yet."

"So you want me to go spying on him?" Arya asked.

"Didn't you hear what he said, he wants to marry your mother," the Hound quipped back. "If you don't keep any eyes on him, he would do worse."

"But he's Littlefinger," Arya said. "What can he do?"

The Hound was so frustrated with Arya that he slapped his own forehead. "You don't know anything don't ya?"

"What should I know?"

"Do as I say and you'll see," the Hound said. "You'd better do it while you're still small enough to follow him everywhere. He doesn't have an interest in you, so he wouldn't even notice you coming."

"Arya, do as he says."

Both the Hound and Arya turned around to find Talisa standing behind them.

"What?"

"Something is not right," Talisa said. "Lord Baelish is not merely your mother's suitor. I don't have any proof now, but I fear that by the time we figure out what he's trying to do, we would be too late."

Reluctantly, Arya nodded. "Alright, I'll do it."

"You will start tonight," Talisa told Arya, gently clasping her shoulder. "Take Needle and Nymeria with you. You must not be seen."

Thankfully, Robb returned from Castle Black just before dinner was served, accompanied by the Blackfish, who refused to join them for dinner and went up to his quarters. He wanted nothing to do with Littlefinger, it seemed.

"Lord Baelish, forgive me for my tardiness, I had business up on the Wall," Robb proclaimed after greeting his family. "I trust that you were properly seen to?"

"The hospitality of Winterfell is exemplary," Littlefinger replied. "I would have expected raised spears and sharpened blades but I was greeted with warm beer and even better company. It is rare that a King would put so much trust in the women of his family..."

Robb nodded towards Arya and Talisa. "My Queen has proven herself able when she ran Casterly Rock with my mother," he said. "And Arya... is being trained martially, like our aunt Lyanna. We have learned from the Mormonts that women are just as good at everything than men. Perhaps even better at other matters."

"Excellent, Your Grace," Littlefinger praised. "Such equality between the sexes is less-known, but it has proven quite effective for you, no? Even the Targaryens put all female heirs behind their male ones to prevent the Dance of Dragons from happening again. But you are not the first nation to actually put this in practice."

"Of course not," Robb said. "Dorne practices equal primogeniture. But we are not Dorne. I just have a grievous lack of brothers. They were all taken away from us and one volunteered to join the Night's Watch."

It cannot be said that Littlefinger was not pleased by Robb's response. "Pragmatism is a rare virtue in kings as well. Princess Sansa was married to Dorne. Did you manage to contact her at all?"

"We could not get anything out of Dorne except a personal guarantee from Prince Doran that Sansa will be well-treated," Robb answered with a grimace. "Do you have any news?"

"Only that Prince Oberyn managed to exact vengeance upon the Mountain for killing his sister, Princess Elia during the Sack of King's Landing," Littlefinger reported, making his news clear to the Hound. "For whatever reason, the Queen had Princess Sansa shot... but thankfully, it seemed that she made it to Dorne safely."

The Starks looked at one another in panic. Sansa has said nothing about being shot before, even in their little reunion. "Thank the Gods," Talisa said. "They say that her husband is a violent and lusty man. I hope that he has the heart to treat her well."

"There are... other tales, Your Grace, that Prince Oberyn has great love for his family and an even greater lust for beautiful men and women, as is the Dornish way," Littlefinger regaled. "I pray for the Princess' sake that he is of the latter sort."

"So what brings you to Winterfell, Lord Baelish?" Robb asked. "You're a long way from the Vale and Harrenhall, aren't you?"

Littlefinger's smug smile widened. "I am here to offer my condolences that your dear aunt Lysa has passed away. My lady wife killed herself after a... manic episode where she tried to kill her own son and now I find am in need of another wife."

"You seek a wife in Winterfell," Robb said. "Arya is too young to marry, and my mother..." Catelyn cast a worried look towards Robb, a clear indication that his guess was right. "My mother has no wish to marry again. At least not yet. As you said, my Aunt Lysa has just passed onto the next world. Mother mourns not only Aunt Lysa but my grandfather and brothers as well. Such losses in such a short span of time cannot be healed, and she has to be seen to be publicly mourning. These losses not only reverberate through the North, but in the Riverlands as well. What would others say about you as well, Lord Baelish, when you do not mourn as well?"

"Of course, a period of mourning," Littlefinger replied. "And to show you my sincerity I shall let Cat decide the time she should mourn."

"Two years," Catelyn said plainly, without a hint of emotion to betray her true feelings. "Robb has just come into his own and war is still rife. If I am to marry you, Petyr, it would be in a time of peace."

"Two years it is then," Littlefinger replied. "Are you so confident that your son is able to end the war in two years?"

"I have every confidence."

HAN: I hope you have a fun time discerning who said what at the first section!

This chapter was HELL to write for me, which explains why it keeps flitting from Winterfell to Dorne and back to Winterfell.

If you MUST know, my original ship is the creepyship. Yes, it's Baelish/Sansa. I LOVE Littlefinger, almost as much as I adore Oberyn. So it's actually quite fun to actually lay my hands on him... eh... in this fic.

Enjoy!