"You would have my ward marry your baseborn child?" Lady Waynwood said in disgust. "We all know Lord Robert will not last long. Harrold Hardyng will become Harrold Arryn, Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East. He will wed a highborn lady, not some bastard girl born of a man like you." With that, Lady Waynwood left the solar with an angry huff and a quick step.

Alayne looked on, mouth agape. Her father smirked and said, "Do not worry, my sweet Alayne, we will win her support once she hears me out. We will win the Vale and then Winterfell. Won't that be good, daughter?" Alayne barely registered his words but managed to close her mouth and nod. Why do you want this father?, she wanted to ask, Why? I have no claim. Another girl has claim but I fear she's gone. I can't find her. Harry the Heir won't be able to find her either. But she said nothing as he left.

"You will not need to dye your hair for much longer." He smiled before the heavy oaken door closed, leaving her alone in the cold solar, listening to his sharp footsteps echo in the hallway.

It was only when it was absolutely quiet that she herself left. Alayne lingered in the room though she knew not why. With a fire this place would be welcoming. But nothing here is warm. It's always cold.As she left, she mused about all the warm places she felt she had been.

Winterfell must have been warm when it burned. Bran and Rickon were warm when they were burned. They surely must have burned the mother if the rumors of the Frey's mocking the Tully traditions were true. They didn't burn Robb though. That much I can be certain of.

It was strange. The one person she missed more and more was the oldest brother. But she knew she couldn't miss him. Alayne had never met him. Alayne didn't want to meet him. He is dead, his family is dead. Alayne didn't even have an older brother.

But Alayne felt a stirring in her chest. A little voice in her head whispered painful words.

He was supposed to find me. Rescue me from King's Landing and the Lannisters and Joffrey. With Grey Wind and all the men of the North. He was supposed to be King in the North. Bran and Rickon and mother would be alive. I wouldn't be Alayne. I would be me again. I wouldn't be denied by myself.

She blinked back the tears that were beginning to form in the corners of her as Alayne might, she couldn't stop that little sweet voice. It sounded like a bird. My mother's eyes, everyone always said so. Those are my eyes, not yours. Alayne finally got back to her cold room after what seemed forever. She locked herself in that cold room and thought of warm places and the voice kept talking. It even caused Alayne to imagine Lady beside her. Lady, comforting and sweet yet lost to her. But Alayne should not think of that. Lady was not lost to her, she was never her's.

She thought of warm Winterfell even though Alayne had never been. Alayne started to feel an ache in her chest as she remembered thoughts and people and memories that she wasn't supposed to have.

She thought of Robb and even Theon and her bastard half-brother Jon sparring in the courtyard under the watchful eye of Rodrik Cassel. Bran climbing all over Winterfell, worrying everyone in the castle even though they knew he would never fall. Rickon would watch in awe of all his brothers, eagerly awaiting the day he was strong enough to join in on the fun. Arya would do so anyway, much to the displeasure of Septa Mordane. Her father would rule justly with his stern demeanor but quickly smile and laugh when with her mother and his children. There was even a beautiful young girl who would dream of knights and songs and eat lemon cakes. For the life of Alayne she could not imagine herself there or remember that name of the little naive girl. Her head wanted this life and the voice became her voice as she sobbed quietly but happily. Alayne, no, Sansa now, was content to dream and curl her fingers into what she knew were blankets but so desperately wanted to be Lady. She didn't know what happened to Alayne but she was glad though.

She slowly started to fall asleep as the winds of winter threatened to blow the castle down with her in it.