This is a re-post of my original story since I finally got a beta-reader. For those of you that have already read this fanfiction up till par seven I recommend you to read it from start to finish once more, my beta has done a marvellously good job and the flow of the story is much better now. Thank you so much MaryAnne, this fanfiction wouldn't be as good without your help.

Part one

Alayne was her armour, her shield and sword. She wielded her when she felt threatened and hid behind her when she thought sorrow would overcome her. Alayne had no dark past or bloody secrets. She hadn't betrayed her family or seen her father s head on a spike. Behind Alayne's eyes Sansa felt safe to gaze upon the world and meet other people s smiles with smiles of her own. Alayne had always known that her lord father, Petyr Baelish, was a liar. Alayne accepted whatever fate befell her but it wasn't Alayne that would be married to Harry the Heir. It was Sansa and Sansa wasn't ready to emerge yet. Perhaps she would never be. She would be naked without her armour and defenseless without her sword.

She bit her lip and gazed through the window. The Gates of the Moon were shrouded in white, heavy snow. Not the kind Sansa grew up with - in the north the snow was as light as feathers and it would dance in the wind, hauntingly beautiful and cold as death. The night was swiftly approaching, and a few stars had come out The moon was nearly full. It would be a clear, cold night. Sansa shivered and wrapped her large fur tighter around her shoulders. She should go to bed but for all Alayne's uses she couldn't protect Sansa from her nightmares and this felt like a night when her demons would come for her.

They were a different kind almost every night. Sometimes she was back at King's Landing, a girl of twelve who watched as her lord father's legs would twitch as his head fell in a pool of blood. Sometimes she would be there when they beheaded her brother and stitched Grey Wind's head to his shoulders. In her dreams they would look at her with their dead eyes and blame her for their deaths.

'You betrayed us', they would say with voices as cold as ice.

Sometimes she dreamt that the Imp forced her to consummate their wedding. His thick fingers would group her chest and he would force his way through her maidenhead. Sansa felt how she coloured and was glad that she was alone. Tyrion hadn't been cruel towards her and she felt ashamed that she had left him for the wolves when she fled King's Landing. Rumour had it he had escaped and for that she was glad but she feared that he would show up one day and demand what was his by law.

She sighed. Tomorrow would be a tiring day. Lord Robert had taken a turn for the worse and when he wasn't sleeping he usually cried, demanding that they returned to the Eyrie. Most of the time she was left alone in charge of him since her songs and her stories seemed to calm him somewhat. He was such a weak child and it felt like every breath he took could be the last. It was unsettling how everything always seemed to go the way her lord father wanted it to. Littlefinger scared her. In the beginning he had seemed perfectly charming, she had believed that he was the only one in the world who could save her. Sometimes he had her convinced that he genuinely cared for her, loved her even but recently she had noticed how his facade would slip whenever he kissed her. He wanted her and in a way that a father never should want his daughter. His eyes undressed her until she stood naked before him and once she thought she had felt his tongue brush against her lips when he kissed her. She had come to realize that he might be the most dangerous person she had ever met. Cersei was like a cruel child in comparison to him and Joffrey nothing more then a mad dog.

Dog...

Sansa drew a shuddering breath. She hadn't thought about the Hound for a long time. She had feared him once for his scared face, rude manners and harsh words. Still. He was the only one who had told her the truth.

'They re all liars here... and every one better than you.'
She could still remember the way his voice sounded like metal scraping against stone when he spoke and the way his harsh laughter sounded like snarling dogs in a pit. She glanced at the fire on her bedside table. He had been so frightened when she last saw him. He had frightened her too with the knife at her throat and the sour stench of wine on his breath. He had shoved her down on the bed and for a moment she had thought that he'd meant to rape her or worse but he'd only stolen a song...

And a kiss...

Sansa licked her lips. Her first kiss. He had stolen it and then left her. She had often wondered how things would have turned out if she had gone with him. He had promised to keep her safe but back then she had been much too frightened to believe him. She would believe him now. If he came for her she would even sing Florian and Jonquil for him and he wouldn't even have to put the knife to her throat. She entertained the thought that she might kiss him if he came for her. Perhaps she would give her maidenhead to him as well and see all of her father's plans crumble and turn to dust. The Hound might even kill Littlefinger for her if she told him how he had kissed her and touched her improperly. Sansa flushed deep crimson at the thoughts she'd been entertaining. It wasn't ladylike to think about such things and they certainly shouldn't happen out of wedlock. That thought brought her back to Tyrion and then to Harry the Heir. She bit her lip and felt how utterly powerless she was. They could do with her as they pleased and she could only pretend and smile. It made her want to rage and scream but that would probably give her father an excuse to seek her out and the gods only knew what he would do if he found her like this, dressed in only her nightclothes.

The hour was late now, the moon bright. She moved towards the bed but thought better of it and made for the carved chest at the foot of her bed. She opened the heavy, painted lid and took out all of her dresses and capes to find a large, tattered and stained cloak on the bottom. She put all of her dresses back in chest and took the cloak with her to bed. It still smelled like smoke, death and blood but she didn't care about that. It made her feel safe. Perhaps her demons wouldn't come for her tonight if she held the cloak close enough to her chest.

She wondered if he was out there somewhere still or if he too had died. She kissed the rough fabric that once had been white.

"Please be alive", she whispered.

The monk arrived to the Gates of the Moon when the winter nights had grown long and cold, three full moons since the snow had first fallen. He wore a grey tunic tied around the waist with a leather belt, a grey scapula and a cowl that shrouded his face. He rode a black, mean looking horse and had a mule in tow. The guards opened the gate for him and Sansa gave him a curious look as she passed by a window. He was huge for a monk and looked more like a warrior then a pacifistic brother. She thought there was something familiar about the way he held himself but then he started walking and she noticed that he was moving with a slight limp. Sansa shook her head. She must have been imagining things.

"M'lady Alayne!"

She turned around and came eye to eye with a flustered maidservant. The poor girl looked like she had been running around half the castle. "Is something the matter?" asked Sansa.

"It's lord Robert m'lady" said the girl while she gasped for air. "He's hysterical and wants you to come sing for him. I've tried to sing for him myself, m'lady, but he wants you."

Sansa watched as the monk disappeared into the stables with his horse and mule. She sighed and gave the girl a reassuring smile.

"I'll come with you. He's usually very distressed at this time of the day. He'll be calmer when they give him the milk of the poppy and it's time for him to sleep."

"Won't his Lordship miss the feast tonight if he's given the milk of the poppy?"

"Lord Robert isn't strong enough to attend the feast anyway. It would be better if he could rest instead. He didn't sleep well at all last night I'm afraid." she said and felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she remembered how her father had arched an eyebrow and told her that it was only a matter of time before little Robert Arryn would be dead.

The young lord's door was open when Sansa and the maidservant came to his chambers. Robert was seated in his bed, looking very small and frail amidst all the thick furs and covers. He had always looked sick but Sansa despaired every time she laid eyes on him nowadays. His skin was the same colour as curdled milk, his eyes huge and feverish. His lip trembled when he laid eyes on her and Sansa thought he might have a shaking fit but to her relief he only cried.

"What is it sweetrobin?"

"Where were you?" he sobbed. "I wanted you to be here but you weren't and that awful girl tried to sing to me. I don't like her!"He hiccuped and pointed accusingly at the maidservant who had turned two shades whiter. "I want to make her fly."

"Please sweetrobin, you're scaring the poor girl. I'm here now. What do you wish of me?" Sansa turned to the maid with a reassuring smile. "You can go now. Please tell my father that I'll join him for the feast when I've put Lord Robert to sleep."

"Thank you m'lady" said the maid weakly. "Do you want me to fetch the maester?"

"Yes, do that."

The maid hurried through the door and left Sansa alone with her crying cousin. She tried to not feel to irritated with him. He couldn't help himself and if Littlefinger's prediction were true, then he wouldn't live for much longer anyway.

"Sing for me Alayne" asked Robert and Sansa sang.

Oh my little bird what have you done?
Fell in love with Mr. Setting Sun
So beautiful you made the sky your own
Then it disappeared left you alone

The song in the end belongs to Lisa Miskovsky, it's called "Little Bird" - I thought it was quite fitting.