Disclaimer: I don't own shit.

AN: Happy November everyone! I figured, for this month that celebrates both Thanksgiving and November the fifth, it was only appropriate that I work on my one story that deals with V for Vendetta. For those of you who forgot, the premise of this challenge is as follows: During the riots of Kings Landing, Sansa wasn't rescued from the potential rapists by the Hound. Instead, a mysterious man in a mask who wielded six Valerian steel knives. The man, who calls himself V, rescues the Stark girl and, after she faints, takes her to his lair hidden in the city's catacombs.
Largely, the plot would be like V for Vendetta but V's backstory would change a bit. Instead of a concentration camp survivor, he was a victim of the Mad King, being burned alive and his body being dumped to feed the dogs. However, he survived and swore to reform the government to be one where the people think for themselves. Instead of the Old Bailey and Parliament, V blows up the Sept of Baelor and the Red Keep using the wildfire stashes previously hidden under the city.
Sansa in turn would play the role of Evey, going from the little bird to a strong, independent woman not afraid to stand up for what's right. And while V's history will largely be shrouded in mystery, I was thinking it could be hinted that he is the real Visery's Targaryen, who was burned by his father to make him a real "dragon" during one of his bouts of madness. In order to cover up what he did, Arey's had his youngest son replaced by a body double (who was the Beggar King with Dany).

Anyway, challenge people so unless someone asks me to adopt this, it isn't getting anything more beyond this chapter. Have a Happy Holidays everyone and enjoy!

W for Westeros

Sansa Stark was scared. Granted, she'd been scared almost constantly for the last year after her "beloved Joffery" had her father beheaded for treason and she'd essentially became a hostage against her brother Rob. Every day she had feared that Joffery would finally get bored of tormenting her or that the Lannisters would win the war against her brother and decide her usefulness has ended. She even had come to fear her brother's victory's, as they often lead to Joffery ordering his Kingsguard to beat on her. The only three people who seemed to look out for her in any capacity was Tyrion Lannister, Petyr Baelish, and surprisingly enough the Hound, Sandor Clegane. Even with their support, Sansa felt fear every day.

This fear was different, however, as it wasn't fear of what might happen, but of something that was currently happening. Earlier that day, she and the royal party had gone down to the docks to see off Princess Myrcella, who was being sent to Dorne for a betrothal with their crown prince. The group had been making their way back to the Red Keep, when the restless and starving smallfolk had begun to riot. First it started small, with members of the crowd throwing out jeers and taunts at the King, when suddenly one person threw more than that, striking Joffery in the face with a cow pie. She'd almost found it humorous until what happened the next moment.

In a rage at what just happened, Joffery screamed at his guards to kill the offender and that is when things turned violent. The mob of smallfolk swarmed the royal party, some attacking with improvised weapons like farm tools while others used their bare hands. Tyrion, keeping his wits about him, ordered the troops to maintain order and get the royal family to safety while Joffery kept throwing a tantrum, saying how he was king and they should all obey him. The knights began pushing back against the mob, when suddenly the swarm of angry people broke through and fell upon them like flies on rotting meat.

Everything became confusing after that, with Sansa finding herself being pushed around by the waves of bodies. She saw Joffery and his family making their way through the crowd via their guards slashing and stabbing at anyone who got too close, leaving her behind. She saw the High Septon get overrun by the angered people, his dying screams echoing in her ears as members of the crowd began waving around his dismembered limbs. In horror, she felt herself grabbed roughly and dragged into a nearby empty building. Once the door slammed shut, cutting off the chaos outside, she got a glimpse of her new surroundings. Apparently, she'd been forced into an emptied storehouse, the Lannister banner on the wall showing who had emptied it.

Before the Stark girl could gather her bearings, she was roughly pushed to the ground. Turning onto her back, she saw several dirty and disheveled men staring at her like hounds eyeing up a bitch in heat. Now say what you want about Sansa Stark, about her naive innocence and childish dreams of gallant knights and princesses, but she wasn't so daft not to know what these men wanted to do to her. Fear gave way to terror as she desperately searched for an exit, finding none save through the same door she entered that the men now stood in front of. In panic, she called for help while she knew in her mind no one would save her. No one knew where she was at, and even if they did there was a sea of enraged people between her and any potential rescuers. She bleakly wondered if anyone would grieve for her as two of the men held her down while a third started ripping at her clothes. She doubted Joffery or anyone else in the capital would truly miss her, and her family probably would be told she was still alive so the Lannisters would still have their hostage. Just as she prepared herself for the inevitable, a voice rang out from the darkened corner of the room, causing her attackers to pause.

"Oh how the people of King's Landing have fallen, taking out there urges on the young and innocent in a barn like animals. Tis a tale both tragic and ironic, don't you think?"

Sansa and her would be rapists turned towards the direction of the voice and saw a most peculiar individual step out of the shadows. The figure appeared to be a man of decent stature, though it was difficult to tell as he was cloaked in black clothes that made him blend in to the surrounding darkness of the barn. On his head sat a tall hat with a wide brim, covering his dark hair that fell to his shoulders but was cut straight as a sword's edge. At first Sansa thought the man's face to be an almost unearthly pale, but then realized that a mask that one would see on a murmurer covered his face, leaving no bit of flesh nor his eyes to be seen. The mask was of a smiling man with a thin mustache and beard, giving it an almost nobel look. And while she couldn't make out the eyes in the dark slits in the mask, the Stark girl could tell the man was looking right at her.

One of her attackers got up and said in a gruff voice, "Who da fuck 're you?! If ye want a piece of the girl's arse, you can bloody well wait yer turn!"

In a movement almost too fast to follow, the masked man's hand whipped out from under his cloak with a shining dagger grasped in it. Like a snake, the hand shot out and the attempted rapist found his throat slit, his blood spilling upon the barn floor. The other attackers cried out in both anger and confusion as they abandoned her in an attempt to rush the masked man. The man seemed to move like wildfire, dancing around the men with a deadly beauty. One of the other men died with a blade through the eye while another man was flipped over and landed on his neck with a sickening crack. Another man had grabbed an abandoned pitchfork and attempted to run the masked man through, but in a move that should have been impossible, the man caught the fork of the tool with two daggers and in a single move broke the head off. The attacker could only stare dumbly at his broken weapon for a second before the man threw one of his blades into his chest so hard he flew back several feet before falling to the ground.

The last man attempted to make a run for it, yet the masked man simply tossed his other knife with enough force that it pinned the runner to the wall through his neck. Barely any time had passed since the first body hit the floor, and yet all of Sansa's attackers were dead.

Huddling up against the furthest wall of the barn, Sansa worried that the mysterious man had saved her only to have her himself. However, instead of attacking the defenseless girl, the man calmly collected his knives and returned them to their sheaths , showing he had four other similar blades strapped to his sides. Turning to Sansa, the man crouched lower to seem less threatening, he asked in a gentle tone of voice that was only slightly muffled by his mask, "Are you alright? I mean you no harm."

Instead of answering, Sansa spoke the first thing that came to mind which was, "Who are you?"

"Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask," the stranger replied simply as if explaining to a small child.

Feeling irritated, Sansa answered dryly, "Well I can see that."

Unphased by the girl's tone, the man responded, "Of course you can. I'm not mocking your powers of observation, merely commenting on the paradox of asking a man in a mask who he is."

Feeling the blood go to her cheeks in embarrassment, Sansa muttered, "Oh, right."

"But, on this most auspicious of days, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace soliloquy, to suggest the character of this dramatic persona," he continued, unfazed.

"Voilà!" the mysterious man suddenly said with a flourish of his hands and cape that startled the Stark girl. "In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valourous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition!" In a fluid movement, the masked man pulled out one of his knives and carved a large 'V' into the Lannister crest behind him, before continuing as if nothing happened, "The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you and you may call me V."

Sansa could only stare at that long winded yet eloquent introduction. Finally, she found her voice and felt she was channeling her younger sister Arya when she asked rudely, "Are you, like, a crazy person?"

The now named V didn't seem to take offense to this unladylike question, in fact he seemed amused as he answered, "I'm certain they'll say so. May I ask who I'm speaking to?"

Sansa was surprised her rescuer didn't recognize her, thinking he was looking for some sort of reward for rescuing the king's betrothed. Perhaps, the part of her that stubbornly still believed in tales of gallant knights and heroes, he was truly a good person who just wanted to help those in need? After all, the barn was dark so it was unlikely he could get a good look at her face. "I'm Sansa Stark, good Ser," she answered, remembering her courtesy.

V seemed to chuckle at being called 'Ser', and she supposed it was doubtful he was a knight but it only felt appropriate. He then tilted his head as her name registered. "Ah, the eldest Stark girl? Of course you are."

"And what does that mean?" Sansa asked, feeling slighted if this man doubted her word.

"Nothing my dear Sansa, it is just, like the gods, I don't play with dice and I don't believe in coincidence. Are you hurt?" V asked in what sounded to be genuine concern.

"I'm fine," Sansa reassured the man as she brushed her ripped clothes off as she stood up. She then offered a shy smile and added, "thanks to you."

V waved off the girl's thanks and said, "Oh, I merely played my part. But tell me, dear Sansa, do you enjoy music?"

Once more taken off guard, Sansa nodded her head. She could swear V smiled as he continued, "You see, I'm a musician of sorts and was on my way to give a very special performance."

"What kind of musician?" Sansa couldn't help but ask.

"Mainly drums, but for today's performance I shall call upon the entire array of instruments. I would be most honored if you would join me," V offered.

Realizing that her presence may soon be missed, and imagining Joffery's fury if he was to find her, Sansa said, "I'm sorry but no, I should really be getting back to the Red Keep."

V responded, "I promise you it will be like nothing you've experience before and afterwards, if you so wish it, I will return you to the Keep."

Sansa hesitated, but then figured that with everything that had been going wrong lately, some music could possibly sooth her frightened and grieving soul. So, she took V's gloved hand as she thought, 'Besides, what else could happen?'

She would later come to regret thinking that as she firmly believed in later years that it was if the gods wanted to prove her wrong in her assumptions. She didn't regret the events that followed, however. Events that not only changed her, but the entirety of Westeros, forever.