She looked at her reflection in the mirror but did not see herself. The woman staring back was paler and thinner, her hair was black, and not the auburn locks she was so used to seeing. The woman she looked at was not Sansa Stark, she was Alayne Stone, the bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish. She then glanced over to a hairnet that was sitting on her dressing table. When she first got the hairnet she thought it beautiful, she thought it a sweet gift from Dontos, her sweet Florian. But as everything else in her tormented life, the hairnet too was tainted.
"I don't even know why I keep that disgusting thing…" She turned away from the hairnet, remembering the night of Joffrey's wedding to Margaery. The night everything changed. She had been used as a pawn, as she always was. Poison was smuggled to the feast, in her hairnet disguised as one of the amethysts that decorated it. True she hated Joffrey, probably more than anyone, but she could never conspire to murder him, could she? She shook her head as she reached for her hairbrush, quickly taking it through the dark hair she did not recognize. Lord Baelish and her aunt Lysa had insisted she dye it black to help keep her hidden, but she still hated it. Sometimes when she brushed her hair, she hoped if she brushed it hard enough she could brush the color out and see the red hair she used to have return.
She was miserable, every day in the Eyrie was worse than the one before. She thought at first it wouldn't be so bad, being around her aunt would remind her of her sweet mother. But Lysa was nothing like Catelyn Stark. Lysa was cold, and very strict. She was also very confusing, one moment she would be the sweetest woman, then she could suddenly change, and then she would be the worst woman Sansa had ever met. She did not understand how this woman was related to the sweet mother she once had. And what was worse, her cousin, Lord Robert, or Sweetrobin as her aunt loved to call him, was to be her new husband. Her Aunt Lysa did not give her a choice, she demanded Sansa obey if she expected to be welcome to live in the Eyrie.
She did care for her little cousin, but he was younger than her, and so sickly. Some nights he would sneak into her bed since he could no longer share his mother's bed. Sometimes he would have sick spells in her bed and wind up wetting it while he was nuzzling Sansa. She would never show her disgust to the poor child, it was never his fault after all. But now she was forced to lock her door at night, not only to keep Lord Robert out of her room, but also the singer, Marillion, who had been showing an increased infatuation with Sansa since the day her Aunt married Lord Baelish. Marillion could not take no for an answer, and he was very lewd with Sansa. On the night of her aunts wedding he had made advances towards Sansa, had it not been for Ser Lothor Brune, Sansa believes Marillion would have raped her that night. So now she was careful to never be alone, she would walk the halls with servants or Ser Lothor. And on occasion with Lord Baelish, though it was obvious her Aunt Lysa did not approve of it.
Her Aunts jealousy of Sansa only grew worse after an incident in the gardens. An incident Sansa wanted to forget, wanted to pretend never happened.
There had been a light snow, one that reminded her so much of Winterfell. She woke up before anyone else had, so she had snuck away into the gardens. She had started with snowballs, remembering the fights she would have with her sister and brothers. But now she was by herself, no siblings to enjoy the snow with. She then found herself making a snow fort that slowly began to look like the Winterfell castle. And before she knew it, everything she was building was Winterfell, the home she longed for. It was then that Lord Baelish returned to the Eyrie. She had been having difficulties with her bridge when she heard him over her shoulder. He helped her finish her castle before they both stood to their feet. She somehow had gained the courage to tell him how he had lied to her, how he had promised to take her home, but this was not her home. And before she knew it, his arms were around her and his lips were on hers. Sansa had always suspected that Lord Baelish had motives behind helping Sansa, but never this.
To Sansas horror, her aunt Lysa witnessed the kiss, causing the jealousy to boil out of control. Deny it all she could, Sansa could not convince her aunt that she did not want it, that she did not tempt Lord Baelish. She tried pleading with her aunt to send her away, let her leave and there would be no more issues. That's when the moon door was opened, that's when Sansa again saw terror. Her aunt tried and tried to push her through the doors, tried to kill her, while the singer Marillion sang his songs to hide her screams. If it hadn't been for Lord Baelish, she would have fallen through the doors, she would have been killed. Instead it was her Aunt who went through the doors, after Lord Baelish pushed her.
Now her world was a web of lies, lies made up by Lord Baelish to keep himself from being named murderer. He claimed it was to help Sansa keep hidden, so that no one knew who she truly was, but she knew he did not want anyone knowing it was him that pushed Lysa out the moon doors. He framed Marillion, and after multiple nights of torture, Marillion agreed to confess to her murder. Now another man's blood was going to be on her hands, another man would die because of her. And now with her aunt Lysa gone, she feared what Lord Baelish would do. Would he pursue Sansa more, would he try to kiss her again? She couldn't let it happen, she wouldn't!
Sansa had planned her escape for weeks, studying the guards on duty each night. She knew which ones were most likely to sleep on duty and which were not. She had been secretly building up a stash of food and water that she hid in her chest at the bottom of her bed. Lord Baelish had even made the mistake of bringing Sansa along with him when he would meet with other men of the Vale, which meant she knew exactly where he kept his silver and gold locked up. She had already packed several of her warmest dresses and robes as well as stockings. She knew she could not carry it all out at once so she had hidden it in the stables, particularly in the same stall as a horse that Lord Baelish had given her when they first arrived at the Eyrie. And when Baelish was away on business, Sansa would sneak into his private chambers, and each time she would steal a few coins, hoping that the small amount she took would not be noticed. And if it was, surely he wouldn't blame her and would blame one of the guards or servants.
After weeks of planning, Sansa was ready. She had accumulated a large amount of silver and gold which she now had in a pouch that hung around her waist. She had a dagger at her waist, as well as one tied around her ankle. Both were gifts from Ser Lothor after the first attack by Marillion so she could defend herself if he was not around. It was the middle of the night, everyone would be asleep, and including the guards who would be in the corridors she would have to walk through. She had put on one of her thickest dresses she had, as well as a dark cloak. The hood was large enough to hide most of her face when she pulled it down.
She gathered the food and water that had been hidden away into another pack, she knew the food would only last her a week, maybe two. But with the money she had stolen from Lord Baelish, she would be able to buy more. As well she was taking all of her jewelry, except for that cursed hairnet.
Finally, with one deep breath, she opened her door. Looking down the halls she heard nothing and carefully slid through them. Each guard she passed was sleeping soundly, as she expected. It was easy for her to get to the stables undetected. Once there, she found her pack of clothes and tied it to her pack of food and water. She then secured them to her horse's saddle and quickly mounted up. And in a flash, she was galloping away from her most recent nightmare, and heading to a new found freedom.
'West… I will go west, to the Saltpans' Sansa knew she couldn't return to Winterfell. It was in ruins, and she was still being accused of Joffreys murder, so she knew Cersei would have men looking for her there. But if she went to the Saltpans, she could find a ship to take her to the Free Cities, and there she could try to make a new life for herself. Her plan was to stop at the Inn at the Crossroads, make sure she had enough food for the long voyage across the waters, then head to the Saltpans. If she could get on a ship, she knew she would be free.
Once she finally arrived at the Inn, Sansa was still very cautions. Her ride had taken longer than she expected, with numerous stops to feed and water her horse as well as herself, it had been at least three days. She had lost track by now. But once she arrived it was late into the evening, the sun had already set, but there were still too many people around for her to approach. She stayed hidden within the trees, and would stay there until it had gotten quieter.
She had just dismounted from her horse though when a sound coming from nearby startled her. It was a low rumble, or perhaps a growl. She looked around but could not see the source of the noise, but her hand quickly went to the dagger at her waist. Suddenly she heard the noise again, it wasn't a growl, but a groan, a man groaning in pain. Carefully she moved towards the noise, her hand holding tight to the handle of the dagger. Suddenly she caught sight of a dark horse in the distance, much larger than her own, she knew it was a warhorse. 'It couldn't be...' she continued to follow the man's groans, keeping her eye on the horse as well until she found the source of the groans.
Sansa's breath caught in her throat as she saw a large figure laying on the ground. He was curled up, but she could tell he was still larger than an average man. She could feel her heart beating faster as she slowly moved to kneel down beside him, whoever it was laying there, was badly injured and dying. She placed a single hand on his arm which caused him to growl but he did not move. She knew that voice. She then removed the hood from her cloak, knowing he would recognize her face once he looked at her. Then slowly she moved him to roll on his back, and very slowly the features that once frightened her were looking her right in the face. Half of his face burned away, while the other was covered in dirt and blood. His dark eyes were hardly open but she could still see he was looking directly at her.
One of his large hands weakly reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb moving slightly over her delicate flesh. "Little… bird?"