Jon Snow

For the longest time there was the cold, everywhere, eating into his lungs and plucking at his brain. But then he started to feel it, at first a soft thrumming from afar, a warm breeze caressing a body he thought he had left behind. Then a sudden crack of heat, tearing his mind fully back. The flames scorched around him, he felt them peeling back his skin and melting his flesh, he smelt himself burning and he screamed, he screamed so loud the wall must have shaken with the sound of his pain. Then as soon as it had begun, it was over. The dark night sky stared down at him and a frigid breeze lashed against him as Jon slowly pulled himself up from the thick ashes. Melisandre stood before him, her fervent followers surrounding her with torches, the wildings and men of the nights watch further back, in the dark. They all watched him silently; the only sound in the world seemed to be the howling of a lone wolf. "HE IS REBORN!" Came the cry from somewhere in the mass, the chant was soon taken up. Melisandre smiled.

Sansa Stark

The Eyrie was dead silent at that time of the morning. Not that it got much louder during the day. But Alayne loved knowing she was the only one moving about, it made her feel peaceful. No pretending and no responsibilities. She knew it would not last. Her lord father would be calling on her soon to attend him and his banners as they discussed what to do with the rule of the Eeyrie due to the untimely demise of young Lord Robert. The course was one of his fits, it was said, but Alayne kept her own quiet doubts. She stopped by one of the large windows for a while, marvelling at how the snow just kept coming down relentlessly, the cold breeze pierced her thin gown, making her smile and think of home. No, no, not home. Alayne came not from the North. But Sansa did. She must not dwell on that, as Petyr so often reminded her. She pursed her lips as she headed back towards her bed chambers, Petyr treated her as though she was the dumb little bird she had always been but Alayne was learning, from Petyr and from a voice inside herself that she didn't know existed. The voice told her to let Petyr believe in her idiocy, let him think her weak and malleable, while behind closed doors she hatched her own plans.

Petyr Baelish

She swept into the room mere seconds after he sent a made to collect here. Petyr smiled to himself, ever the dutiful daughter. "Alayne, my dear, we have a moment or two before the pageantry arrive, come sit by me" He said. She glided across the room, her gown swishing against the hard floor and her rich brown hair glowing in the cool, morning light. "Father" She cooed, leaning down to peck his cheek. He caught her thin forearms in his hands tightly before she could pull back again. "A real kiss for your Lord Father." He murmured gutturally as he pulled her even closer to him. Her thin, hot lips pressed against his own and he felt his hear thundering as he prised them apart with his quick tongue. "Much better." He said ever so quietly, propelling her away before he lost control. Alayne stared back at him, her blue eyes wide open and her pale cheeks flushed pink, one of her hands crept up to fiddle with the locket about her neck. She enjoyed it, Petyr thought to himself as he tried to refocus on the papers in front of him and not the fact that Alayne's dress collar hung even lower than when she had first entered. He wondered, not for the first time, how he could keep this little bird for himself. The murmur of voices started to echo down to him, they were here. "Alayne, be ready with wine and water." He called over his shoulder as he pulled the heavy doors of the meeting room full open. They entered as a herd, braying at each other, barely looking at him as they poured into their, now customary seats. Petyr sat, fingers propped under his chin, once the silence had fallen he started to talk, it was time to do what he did best, pull himself to the top.

Sansa Stark

She watched him the whole time, every mannerism, every word that came out of those deceitful lips. The people surrounding him lapped it up eagerly, seeking his guidance and expertise. Alayne marvelled at their willingness to accept him just because Petyr said the right words and did the right things. She knew she had more to learn but she also knew her time was running out. Petyr had plans to marry her off and even if he didn't she knew he wanted her for himself, he would only hold himself back for so long and she could see he was slipping. That would help her, his desire, but there was a thin line she had to walk, temptation but no fulfilment. She would go to him tonight, begging him to let her remain by his side, to learn and feel safe, she would kiss him if she had to, though the thought sent repulsive shivers down her spine. He would let her stay with him, he was starting to love her and at the same time Alayne was wondering more and more how she ever trusted this man to get her home. I was naïve she thought crossly as she snapped back to her surroundings and filled all the cups with a smile. As she filled Petyr's she quietly asked for a reprieve from her task. He nodded absently and she hurried out of the room instantly, it was her only chance when Petyr could not possibly have interrupted. The rookery was dark even in the middle of the day; it stank of faeces and decay but still she heard the soft ruffling of wings. Alayne shoved open the small door to the chamber where a maester's assistant should have lived, it was freezing cold but there on a small wooden desk sat a thick piece of parchment and an old bottle of maester's ink. She grabbed a feather from the rookery, her letters were scratchy but legible and she wrote as quickly as she could. There was only one chance to get this right and if this fell into anyone else's hands Alayne and Sansa were both doomed. Her hands felt stripped raw after minutes but she had written for hours, forcing her thin scrawl across the page with grim determination. The sun had nearly set when the parchment was tied up with a piece of black string. Alayne knew not, the ways of the children of the forest but she could read and she had, reading book after book about them until she had found the spell, reciting it every night until it was part of her. She whispered to the crow as she tied the parchment to its thin ankle, repeating over and over where it should go. "Please." She whispered to the wind as it flew off into the deepening twilight.

She raced down the steps towards her chambers, pulling her hair from its tight plait as she went. She chose a tight, low cut silk dress; it shimmered as she moved a pale blue, pretty little thing that she would have admired once upon a time. Now it was a tool, one that showed off her slender frame and brought out her large eyes. She made these eyes well with tears as she headed to Petyr. He turned at her entrance and was transfixed. Everything she did was observed, from tucking her long hair behind her ears, to smoothing down the perfectly smooth dress. "My, don't you look beautiful." Petyr stated as his eyes roamed over. "Father I came here because I must talk with you, urgently! I know you intend to marry me to Harry the heir but I don't want him, I couldn't bear to be married to someone I don't love… again! Please father, I…" Her sob cut her off, they seemed so fake to her, surely he would see right through. But Petyr rose instantly. "Oh my sweet Alayne, hush darling, don't you still want to go home?" She nodded against his chest. "Well then you must listen to your father, let me help you. Besides whom else would you marry? There is no one else." He stated. She could feel his gaze on the crown of her head; she looked up, dreading the words that had to come off her tongue. "There is you."

Daenerys Targaryen

"Dark wings, dark words." Whispered Tyrion ominously from his perch atop a pile of feathered cushions. "You are my hand, not my entertainment." Retorted Dany with a chuckle, "Now read out these 'dark words' and we'll see if the saying is true." Tyrion smiled up at her as his other hand undid the cord tying the letter together. He could jest all he wanted, Dany had seen the worry on his face when it had become clear this was a Westerosi bird. "They shouldn't be able to survive this heat." She had heard Ser Barristan mutter when he thought she couldn't hear. It infuriated Dany that they continued to treat her like a child, she was the Dragon Queen, Mother of Dragons, Stormborn, was she really expected to be scared of one old crow? She returned her full attention to Tyrion. "Your Royal Highness Daenerys Targaryen, I write in the desperate hope that this missive will reach you and that if it does you will heed me. My name is Sa…" Tyrion faded off but his eyes continued to move quickly down the page, by the time he had read the full letter Tyrion's jaw hung slack and his eyes bulged. Dany wanted the letter now; if it could render him speechless she must read it once. She requested he past it to her but his eyes continued to stare blankly at the parchment. Dany pulled it from his hands; his head snapped up as she did so, his mismatched eyes had welled with tears. "Well I never." Was all he managed. Dany sat back on her bench, tucking her legs into her tokar. She read it even faster than Tyrion had, then five more times to make sure. Her hands quivered as she set the pages back down. "We have work to do." Dany said, to no one in particular, her voice was croaky and her eyes stung. She paced back and forth in her chambers, occasionally glancing out over Mereen. To leave this kingdom in complete upheaval would be cruel and unjust but she had another kingdom, one that was hers by right, one she desperately needed. The letter had come from one Sansa Stark, a girl Dany had never met but had classed as enemy on principle. Apparently Sansa had not done the same to her. She thought back over the letter, all the awful things that had befallen this girl, all the suffering and death, how alone she was, the man who now tried to control her. Dany could see so much of herself in Sansa, so much of the girl she had been and the woman she was forced to become. She found Tyrion drinking with some of the Brazen Beasts. "A word." She called, as the Beasts all kneeled. "Have you reached a decision?" Tyrion asked as he reached her and they turned toward the stairs. "I have." She said, watching his face carefully. "I want to help her and I want to crown her." Tyrion looked like he couldn't have been more surprised if his dead father had come in and handed him a rose while dancing the jig. "My lady, are you quite sure?" He asked looking up at her. Dany squatted so they were eye to eye "I have never been surer of anything."

Sansa Stark

She spent her days locked in the Eyrie, the peaceful silence now felt oppressive and every corner she turned found Petyr behind it, waiting to caress her and kiss her. She had forced herself to not shudder at his touch, even made herself smile when he whispered all the things he wished to do to her but no matter what she did she couldn't make herself enjoy him. Every touch felt like a burn on her skin, every kiss a knife in her gut. How could she be so scarred on the inside when on the outside her skin was flawless and her smile was firm? He thought she loved him, she told him she did as he told her the same but the truth was he was nothing to her, below even her contempt or hatred; he was just a nuisance to be put up with before her plan was fulfilled. She sometimes wondered if there would be a place for Petyr in her new world but then, Sansa thought, there is always a place for people like him. She was standing by her vanity, starting into her own cool eyes when the bird crashed into her room. A parchment was strapped to its leg; this was a rare and perfect opportunity. Before the bird could make much noise Sansa had pulled off the paper and throw it back through the window. It circled up and into the clouds quickly, she silently envied it as she unfolded the stiff paper. The letter may be nothing but then it could be useful, she had no idea what was happening in the outside world, Petyr kept everything from her. She couldn't believe what she was reading. Others at the wall being fought off by the nights watch, led by Jon, her Jon! And what was more they had aided Stannis in his war and his Red goddess had brought Jon back from the dead, in flames. They Night's Watch needed bodies, people to fortify the wall against the Others, they had already accepted Wildings but they still needed more. She knew the Others should scare her and the idea of Wildings helping the Watch should shock her but all she could focus on was that Jon was alive. She felt her throat clogging and her eyes burning at the thought that she wasn't alone. Jon was still alive, her bastard brother, she wished she could take that name-calling back now, now that he was all she had. Sansa had to contact him, had to share her plans and gain his support, she needed him. Her hand gripped the edge of the window sill tightly but then she heard the footsteps. The paper was safely hidden by the time Petyr pushed open her door. "Alayne." Was all he said as he swept in and pulled her into his embrace. She hugged him back stiffly, her mind ticking away even as he started to kiss her neck, then her shoulders. His thin fingers quickly unlaced the back of her dress and she stepped out of it without a word. He had never done this before, she thought dimly as she kept her thoughts on Jon. His dry hand caressing her bare breast was like a whip. "Wait!" She said pulling back and trying to get her thin undershirt to cover her. "No, I have waited for long enough." Petyr said in a deep voice, his eyes were glazed and he slowly ran his tongue over his lips. "Lift up your arms now, like a good girl." He whispered as he pulled her shift off and tossed it aside. Sansa did not try and cover herself, she watched as he dipped his head and felt his wet mouth on the flatness of her stomach. Then she was gone, away with Jon, rallying the Northern army, fighting all those who had wronged the Stark's, combining forces with Daenerys and returning her to her rightful throne, in thanks Sansa would be appointed queen of the North and be given her own dragon, there at Winterfell, she, Jon and their families would live and rule until the end of times, keeping the Seven Kingdoms safe from the Others. When she awoke from her fantasy Petyr lay beside her, his face red and sweating as he slept deeply, Sansa looked down at herself, finger marks bruised deeply in her arms and bite marks covered her thighs, her maidens blood pooled beneath her. She pulled herself up off the bed, her limbs stiff. So now I am a woman, she thought as she went to wash the brown dye from her hair.