[For a moment, his expression shifts, becomes colder and more inward, and he looks down. Where is he? He had my fingers in his throat only a fortnight or two past.]

Baelish is at Winterfell. He came with Lord Royce, when you called on the Vale for aid.

But Sansa, you’ve told me not to trust him. And in all honesty, I see little in him to trust. He gave you to the Boltons — to a husband who was cruel to you. You came riding up the day I meant to leave Castle Black, with a lady knight and her squire and nothing but a gown and a thin cloak. You had escaped Winterfell, while Stannis was failing to take it. While Lord Bolton’s eyes were on the field.

Don’t — [(he finds her hand and covers it with his)] — don’t accept any marriage Baelish makes for you, if you can refuse it.

[Maybe all of this is already written. Maybe there’s no changing it, and maybe, if it changes, then everything else does, too. But if Sansa doesn’t marry Bolton, Jon will still be alive. He will still be working against the Dead. And maybe if it changes, it will change for the better. Maybe it isn’t necessary for her to suffer as she has.]