All characters belong to GRRM.
Alayne stood in front of her window as she brushed her hair, smoothing out the abundant curls. She had just dyed it again last evening, hiding the rich auburn, leaving her hair a dull brown, and the unpleasant smell of it, though faint, still lingered. 'When will this persona end,' she thought sadly, watching as the last of the snowflakes fell as she braided her hair to the side. Long icicles hung from every ledge, slowly dripping as the morning sun began to peek from behind the clouds, and Alayne smiled knowingly. On sunny days, she and Mya would escape the Gates of Moon for the day, accompanied by Ser Lothor Brune, to go riding.
'Father...no, Petyr, would not like me leaving the safety of the gates, but he is not home yet and I do long for some freedom,' she thought. 'Once he returns, he will not permit me to leave, no matter whom is by my side to keep watch.' She sighed wistfully, and quickly grabbed her warmest boots and laced them up before slipping on her dark green winter cloak. It was thick and warm, the inside lined in fine velvet. As she pulled the hood over her hair, she heard a gentle rap on her chamber door. She smiled and opened the heavy door.
Ser Lothor stood on the other side looking down at her, as a slight, but gentle smile lifted off his square jaw. He never spoke much, and he was loyal to Petyr, but Alayne had noticed that he had a soft spot for Mya, and would often try to hide a tiny smile whenever her name was mentioned.
Alayne never forgot what he had done for her the night Petyr and Aunt Lysa wed. 'Yes, he is loyal to Petyr. He would not let any physical harm come to me.' She shuddered at the thought of what might have happened and the events that happened after.
The first time Mya had suggested they go for a ride, Ser Lothor had protested, gruffly, saying that Alayne was not to leave the castle walls, but in the end he had been persuaded by Mya's lusty blue eyes and accompanied them ever since. He did warn, however, that once the Lord Protector returned, they would not be going out again.
It was on their third excursion out, that they came across an old cabin near the river, and it had since become their regular destination. Mya had given Alayne a small dagger on one of the outings and she had taught her basic moves while Lothor watched on, brusquely offering advice on occasion.
Everything had changed the day Mya had, as a jape, taunted Lothor into a mock battle. They had eyed each other, Mya with a cocked eyebrow, Lothor with longing in his eyes. Soon the two of them had crashed into the cabin, while Mya called out from behind the closed doors to yell if danger was lurking, which in turn left her sitting alone. She had not minded. Alayne would, more often than not, sit beside the river on a weathered log, daydreaming, while Mya and Lothor had made use of the cabin.
She knew what they did in there, for Mya would tell her every detail; how she would take Lothor in her mouth, how he would sit her astride him and watch her ride, leaving Alayne red-faced as she listened to her story. Mya would just laugh mirthfully, and tell her that there were benefits to being a bastard, and maybe Alayne should not guard her maidenhood so carefully.
Alayne followed Ser Lothor to the stables where Mya had already had their horses saddled, and had a small bundle containing bread, cheese, cured sausage, some bitter olives, and a skin of arbour gold to wash it down. Since the winter had arrived, food was a luxury, and was meant to be rationed, however, Mya had always managed to find something in the kitchens to take along.
"Come along, Alayne, the horses are ready," Mya said as she mounted her own tawny mare with ease, giving her a nod in the direction of the handsome, young stable boy who stood ready to assist her. "Would you like some extra company today?" she asked slyly, a smirk on her face.
Alayne tried not to blush, knowing full well the indication Mya had in mind. 'She is terrible,' she thought as she walked to her pretty chestnut mare.
"No, Mya, I would like some quiet time today," she said. 'Gods, what a horrible excuse,' she rued to herself, smiling brightly at the blushing stable boy as he helped her on her mare. "Thank you, kind Ser," she said, and then nudged her mare out of the stables.
The trio slowly made their way to the cabin, carefully steering their horses through the path they had previously made in the deep snow. The sun felt warm on Alayne's face and though the cold never bothered her much, she held on to the hope, false as it may be, that spring might be arriving soon.
They finally arrived, and Ser Lothor helped her off her horse, tying them to the tall tree beside the cabin. Mya gathered the bundle and they set off to sit by the frozen river where the warmer weather had thawed patches along the shoreline. Alayne helped arrange the blankets and sat primly on one corner while Mya sprawled out beside Ser Lothor. 'He looks so out of place sitting here,' and a image of someone from long ago passed through her mind. 'If he were here, I would be protected, but he would not sit here.' She thought of his scarred face and twitching, mocking mouth. 'No, he would sneer and growl at me.'
After all this time she still thought of the Hound. She wondered where he had gone when they parted ways, and if he was still alive. 'He hates liars. What would he think of me now, masquerading as Littlefinger's bastard?' she mused. He would always come to her in her dreams, and of late he frequented them more. Alayne shook herself from her thoughts as Mya cut a thick slice of bread and hacked up the sausage and cheese, and watched as she stuck her thin dagger into a piece of cheese, then sausage, holding it toward her to take. 'She is so crude, she could be beautiful if she grew her hair long and wore a dress,' Alayne thought, as she gingerly took the meat and cheese off the tip of the dagger. She placed the small pieces on her bread and took a dainty bit, chewing slowly.
They did not converse much, and after a time Mya stood up and extended her hand to Ser Lothor, beckoning him silently with her blue eyes. He grasped her hand in his and slowly stood up towering over Alayne. His shadow covered her and he scanned the surrounding area. He looked down at her. "Stay here," he said gruffly, "and if you sense any danger, you call me. And remember your dagger, girl. Don't be afraid to use it." He then walked towards the cabin, dragging Mya behind him.
'She is not struggling,' she mused.
Alayne sat quietly, lost in her thoughts. 'I wonder what it would be like to be so open like Mya. She thinks I am a bastard. I hope I play the role convincingly, but the lady is hidden for now. Oh mother, I miss you. Can you see me? Can you hear my thoughts? I miss you, and father. My brothers, too. Ayra if you hear me, I do love you and I wish you were here now.'
She was pulled from her lonely thoughts as she heard a loud crash and muffled voices coming from inside the cabin. She frowned slightly, paying no mind to the nagging feeling that started growing inside her. 'Poor Lothor. Mya is probably wrestling him down.' She giggled and blushed at the image that flitted across her mind. 'I will hear all about it tonight.'
Her thoughts turned to the conversation she had with Petyr before he left for the Eyrie. Since the weather had warmed, he had wanted to go and make preparations to return. He had told her of his plans for her, mayhap arranging a marriage to Harry the Heir. Alayne had yet to meet this Harry, and in her heart she truly did not want to, let alone marry him. She knew if she did, Sansa might be lost forever for she had no idea how all this could work. Her heart tightened, 'Sansa. I just want to be Sansa. I want to be loved as Sansa, not Alayne. Though, I doubt Petyr is intent on marrying me off just yet,' she thought. 'Sometimes he acts the part of my father, I play along, but why must he kiss me? Sansa's father never kissed her like this. Yet, I am not Sansa anymore.' Alayne swallowed hard and closed her eyes tightly, holding back her tears.
'I will be strong, I will survive and I will be Sansa Stark of Winterfell once again.'
Suddenly, the door of the cabin flew open, startling her. She turned around quickly, and her heart felt as though it had stopped. She watched as a massive figure slowly stepped out from the cabin. A tattered black cloak covered his immense frame, and a equally tattered cowl covered his face. In his massive hand he wielded a two-handed sword.
'The Stranger himself!'
The man stared at her, and began slowly stalking towards her, a slight limp in his stride. 'No!' She thought, her heart pounding.
Alayne quickly scrambled to her feet and ran, gathering her skirts with one hand, while reaching under her cloak for the concealed dagger with the other. She tried to run as fast as she could, but the snow was still deep and she did not make it very far. She struggled to pull herself over a twisted log, but her boot caught, and she tumbled head first into the snow. Desperately, she tried to get up and climb over the log, but her long skirts got tangled around her boots. She could hear the man stomping quickly toward her, the snow crunching under his heavy feet.
'There is nowhere to go,' she thought as she panted, struggling to get up. Her mind raced, remembering that Mya and Lothor who were still in the cabin. 'They must be dead!' Her mouth suddenly felt dry. She tightened her grasp around the handle of her dagger. 'Please, gods, please let this just be a dream. Please, wake me up!' She felt the strong presence behind her, and could hear his breath, quick and ragged. She pulled herself over the log and clambered up, trying to run, only advancing several steps before strong hands grabbed her cloak jerking her to a stop. A heavy weight crashed on top of her and her movements were instantly stilled, she closed her eyes tightly, and tried to scream for help, but a large, rough hand covered her mouth, before she could, and she struggled with all her might to escape.
'No, this must be a trick,' Alayne thought, as she tried to move from under the heavy weight that was pinning her face down into the cold snow. 'My dagger,' she suddenly remembered and went limp, hoping that the tight grip around her mouth would lessen and she could turn around, 'Go for his throat.' She could hear the raspy breaths. 'Familiar,' she thought, 'but it certainly would not be him, he would never be here, would he?'
Alayne felt him rise up slightly off her, his knees on each side of her hips. He let go of her just long enough, giving her a chance to roll over and thrust the dagger towards him. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the dagger slice her attacker. The man just as quickly grabbed her wrist and squeezed until she had no choice but to let it go. He then pinned her arms above her head and she could feel his chest heaving over hers, his warm breath covering her face. She kept her eyes shut. She continued struggling, and tried to kick him, but again, her heavy cloak and skirts got in the way.
She slumped in defeat, almost breathless, and opened her eyes to begin pleading for her life. She slowly raised her eyes upward, noticing blood dripping down onto her dress. As her eyes went higher, they widened when she recognized the tight, grim ruined lips, the slick twisted mass of scars, and the tips of his lank black hair touching her face. Alayne gasped as she met his narrowed, grey eyes; a look of surprise in them. A small sense of relief washed over her, but left just as quickly as he spoke, the man's voice harsh and grated.
"The little bird has killed her true knight," he said, almost mockingly. Alayne watched as his eyes rolled back just before his body collapsed against her, his face buried into the crook of her neck.
'Merciful gods! I've killed the Hound!'