Disclaimer: George R.R. Martin owns them.
Sansa Stark didn't recognize the girl…young woman…looking back at her through the glass. Her once vibrant red hair was now a dull black and pulled back in a tight braid. Her gown, painstakingly intricate with feathers at the shoulders and along the sleeves, was also black and fit her more snugly than any other had before.
She toyed with the necklace she had fashioned out of a piece of cold iron and long chain. She looked older and fiercer…
If only she felt that way.
With a sigh, she carefully wrapped her dragonfly dress pins and tucked them into the deepest corner of her trunk.
There was only one item left that tied her to her old life.
She picked the ring up carefully, holding it with both hands. The rubies glistened in the morning light. She could throw it away. She hadn't wanted the ring…the marriage…the man…
And yet, she kept it. Whatever Tyrion was…Lannister…drunk…dwarf…he had been kind to her. He had never forced her to do anything. He tried, in his own way, to reach her…to comfort her.
She still felt a pang of guilt for leaving the way she had. But what choice did she have?
With another sigh, she tucked the ring away. Not in her trunk, but in a secret pocket she had sewn into the folds of her gown.
Alayne Stone did not have a husband. But…perhaps, someday…Sansa Stark would see hers again.