Alayne

"And the Mystery Knight won the tourney. When he doffed his helmet, it was the-"

"Winged Knight!" Exclaimed little Robert.

"Yes, very good. Now try and get some sleep, the tourney will end tomorrow and you will get to choose your very own Winged Knights," said Alayne.

"Alayne, I want you to sleep in here. With me," announced Robert.

"As you wish, my Lord," lied Alayne. She let Sweet Robin cuddle against her breasts; she had gotten very used to it now though she still didn't like it. Once the Little Lord fell asleep, she was able to slip out from underneath him. The maester always gave him dreamwine, making him almost impossible to wake up until the morning.

To her surprise, when she arrived at her chambers, Harry the heir was waiting there for her. "If you would excuse me, I would like to get some rest before the morrow. It will be a long day."

"I came here to beg your forgiveness once more, Alayne," said Harrold.

"On your mother's accord or your father's? It was your mother's last time, if I haven't mistaken myself." Alayne said as she walked past him, into her chambers. "Spare me your fake apologies, and I'll spare you my fake forgiveness. Goodnight, Harry." She closed the door in his face. Keeping her back to her door she unfastened the back of her dress. When Harry opened the door she pretended not to notice. Bewitch him. He never said a word, so she kept undressing, acting oblivious to Harrold watching through the door way. When she got down to her very revealing small clothes made of an ivory colored silk, she picked up her clothes on the floor and turned around. Harrold and Alayne's eyes met. For a moment, she stared at him and let him stare at her, and at her see-through small clothes. Then she made it stop. Covering herself with her dress she said, "Is this how you treat bastard girls?! Peeping at them through windows or doors?! Did Saffron even want to sleep with you? Or did you rape her and call it love?"

Harrold, agape, turned red, and then turned angry. Alayne feared she has pushed this act a little too far and a little too long. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence Harry spoke through gritted teeth. "I came here… on my own accord to apologize tonight. Again. I did not come here to have my honor questioned!" Harry was slowly walking towards Alayne.

"Honor? Gods, you speak of your honor? You have one bastard, and another one on the way! By two different women, might I add. Then you have the nerve to call me a bastard! And now you are speaking of your honor?!" Alayne had let go of her clothing, standing there in just her small clothes. Neither of them had noticed.

"Will you just… forgive me, you maddening woman!" Then Harrold grabbed Alayne's face with both hands and put his lips on hers. In that moment she thought of the Hound's twitching upper lip. His mottled and scarred face. His lips on hers in the dark. She was about to push Harry away, then, she realized I am not Sansa anymore; the Hound never kissed Alayne. Sansa would never do this. Alayne put her arms around his neck and pulled him against her body. She slid her tongue into his mouth and as soon as he dropped his hand from her face, she stopped him. She looked into his eyes and they were full of lust and wanting. She backed away a little, never breaking his gaze.

"I'm not just some bastard you can have your way with… I'm not that easy," she said, looking away and covering herself, acting ashamed.

Harry sighed and grabbed her hand. "Alayne… I am truly sorry, I… I didn't…" He didn't know what to say. He couldn't look at her. She knew he was genuinely apologizing to her, not just trying to gain some pawn in the Game of Thrones. Had this worked? Has he truly fallen for me? No… He has fallen for Alayne. Only Alayne.

"I forgive you… Now please, leave me be Harrold. I wish to be alone. Good luck tomorrow, Ser." Without another word, Harrold left. Once the door was closed, a faint, slow clapping came from the dark corner of the room. Emerging from a shroud of darkness came Petyr.

"I only came to wish you Goodnight and it would seem I got a little show. Well done, daughter," said Petyr. Startled, Alayne grabbed her dress to cover herself once again. "Oh don't bother, I was just leaving." He kissed her on the cheek, laying a hand a little too low on her back.

"Father, I had a question I wanted to ask you earlier…"

"Yes, daughter?"

"What can you gain by putting Ser Lothor Brune and Harry the Heir up against each other?"

"Why else but to have Harry beat him, sweetling. He does have your favor, does he not?" asked Petyr.

"Yes, but… How do you know that Harry will be able to defeat him? If he does defeat him, why would that matter?"

"Ser Lothor Brune is becoming too cocky for his own good, and I would bet that Harrold would love to beat any man wearing your favor. In fact, I would bet that after beating him, he would go on to win this whole tourney just to impress you. If he wins, he would have to become one of the Winged Knights, no matter how much our Little Lord may refuse. And if he was a Winged Knight?"

"He would always be around Lord Robert… and me."