All eyes were upon her. The redhead walked with grace down the catwalk wearing the latest collection by Cersei Lannister. The cameras flashed like sparkling stars in the night sky. The scarlet garment that reached the floor flowed with her movement. The shade of the dress nearly blended into her let down hair. Layers moving freely yet controlled by her skilled catwalk. Her bosom delicately pushed up but not at all immodest. Off the shoulder sleeves gave her a sultry look but the rest of the dress said more than that. It showed power and hunger to rise above and beyond. It fit her perfectly. She was a vision. She was the most sought after supermodel in the world. She was Sansa Stark.
Sansa's eyes slowly opened. The dream was a wonderful fantasy that she hoped would come true one day. Being the center of attention, adorned in beautiful clothes and admired by all… it was a selfish dream but her dream all the same. She rolled over to the other side of her bed and spied last month's issue of Vogue. Margaery Tyrell was wearing the red dress she had worn in her dream. Sansa sighed, she wondered if one day she would have the chance to model Cersei's clothes.
It took her a moment to muster the strength to finally sit up in the warm queen bed. Her studio flat was a mess with clothes scattered all over the floor and unwashed mugs covered whatever surface there was. She made note of having to clean up later. First though, she needed to check her emails.
Grabbing her laptop and flipping it open on her lap, Sansa clicked on the icon and waited for it to load. After a few long seconds one email popped up. It was her agent. Quickly she clicked on it and read the contents. A huge smile stretched on her lips. Today in approximately three hours she was to show up to an open casting call he found for her. She glanced at the name of the designer. Three-Eyed Raven. Sansa frowned, she had not heard of this designer but if her agent had sent the call her way then they must have been relevant enough for her to give it a try.
With only two and a half hours to get ready and thirty minutes to get ready she figured she should be fine without rushing. Pulling up a playlist and turning up her speakers to a point where she would surely get a noise complaint, again, Sansa wiggled around to get her energy going. Once hyped up enough she skipped over to her bathroom and turned on the shower to the hottest point and began to strip.
After a hot steamy shower, Sansa stepped out freshly cleaned and freshly shaven. She tied her hair up into a towel turban and wiped away the steam from her mirror so she could do her skincare routine. Sansa wasn't as strict as other models were about their beauty routine but her skincare was where she really made sure to put her time. Why age early when you could actively prevent it?
Dewy face finished and her body properly lotioned up, she removed the towel turban and brushed her wet red locks. Sansa chose to let her hair air dry to really get that true natural look that they liked at open calls. She grabbed some argan oil to rub into the ends and brushed it through with her fingers. Glancing over to her small perfume collection she wondered if she should wear any. Nothing strong… but to stand out she needed something. A smile formed and she went to grab her lemon essential oil stick. Rubbing it thoroughly on her pressure points. It was strong enough to make her stand out but soft enough that it wouldn't be a bother.
Satisfied, she walked over to her closet. Opening the doors, all her clothes would have spilled onto the floor if she had not reacted in time. Sansa sighed, she really needed a bigger closet… or maybe she should downsize and spring clean? No. Definitely just needed a larger closet.
Fishing out a pair of black skinny jeans and a black tank top, Sana quickly closed the doors to lock away her catastrophe once more to the world. She grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and a strapless bra from her drawer. Once dressed and with a pair of black heels set aside for later, Sansa looked over at her fridge. She had neglected to do any grocery shopping but in fact she would have been praised for it in this industry. She shook her head, it was such a stupid standard to have. Opening her fridge, she noted that there was indeed only an apple and a piece of cheese left. A quick sniff at the cheese and it was indeed still safe to eat.
Sansa happily munched on her half breakfast that would be considered a feast by other models. Wiggling her butt and humming with the music that blasted through the entire flat.
After what felt like no time at all, Sansa's blue eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. She cursed at herself seeing that she had to leave. NOW. Her hair completely dry now, she turned off her music and grabbed a lightweight royal blue trench coat for the autumn chill in King's Landing. Throwing it on and slipping on her heels with her black crossbody purse, Sansa darted out the door.
King's Landing was a bustling metropolis. Skyscrapers filled the sky with historical buildings paired with them. It was a nice mix, the new and the old. Sansa made her way towards the underground train that proved as the best means for travel around the city. She pulled out her phone and copied the call's address and pasted it into her travel app. From there she knew exactly where she needed to go.
The train was about to leave her behind, but Sansa ran surprisingly fast for a woman in heels and made it just barely, with the doors closing behind her threatening to catch her hair.
The journey wasn't difficult. With a few train changes she finally arrived at her stop with five minutes to spare. Sansa preferred to be much earlier but c'est la vie.
Upon walking into the call room, Sansa immediately noticed that there were A LOT of other girls here. It didn't disconcert her, but she needed this gig to pay for this month's rent. She was going to have to make herself stand out more than her red hair already did.
Each girl was asked her name and interviewed with a few simple questions then showed their facial profiles and walks. Sansa observed her opponents then the casters. They showed no signs of what they liked and disliked about each model so it was hard to gauge what their tastes were that she could play up on.
When it was her turn, Sansa walked forward to the casters. The distinguished woman in the middle seemed to be in charge as she spoke.
"Name?"
Sansa held her head up high.
"Sansa Stark."
The casters eyed each other.
"Stark? As in Eddard Stark's girl?"
Is this going to help me or hurt me?
"Yes, Eddard Stark was my father."
The woman nodded with a slight frown, however Sansa noticed some of the others giving her a soft smile.
Her father was famous in the fashion industry for being the chief editor of Vogue. Before he fell ill with a sickness that would take his life, he became involved with a scandal. News spread of him being bribed to cover up allegations. This of course left a black mark on him. Sansa believed that it wasn't the full story but she never heard much about it from him. Clearly there were still some people in the industry who respected him regardless.
"Why are you here auditioning when you have a clear advantage due to your father?"
The woman's stern question pulled Sansa back to reality. She cleared her throat.
"My father believed in her children working for their success just as he did. It made you appreciate what you were able to accomplish and helped you realise your worth. I intend to continue following his example and respect his memory in doing so."
The edge of the woman's mouth pulled up slightly. She seemed to accept that answer.
"Show us your profile and walk from here to there."
The woman indicated with the end of her pen the two ends of the room she wished her to walk.
Sansa showed her the angles of her face as requested and did her walk. The caster's eyes were fixated on her. She was too focused to notice that they were whispering amongst each other. When Sansa finished, she received a smile and a nod before returning to her place in the line.
Everyone was dismissed once the rest of the models had been viewed and Sansa hoped she had left a good impression. Typically the models chosen would hear later in the day or the next. Same days really only ever happened if there was a tight deadline for the fashion show and they needed to get fitted immediately. This didn't appear to be the case, so she gathered her things and put on her rich jacket.
Wandering out of the building and back into that chilly autumn breeze, Sansa looked at her phone to check the time. It was afternoon now and she felt her stomach growl. As she walked down the sidewalk and wondered what she should eat for lunch she walked right into someone who appeared to also not be paying full attention.
The papers the man had been examining fell all over the sidewalk. Sansa immediately crouched to start picking them up.
"S-sorry! I wasn't paying attention!"
The man sighed and crouched down to help her gather the papers.
"No, it's fine. These things happen."
Sansa was trembling from embarrassment as she was picking up the papers. She noticed drawings of dresses and architecture that she recognised from the ancient buildings in the city. Was this man an artist?
They finished gathering the drawings and Sansa straightened them up before handing them to the man crouched in front of her. They both stood up and she formed a slight frown, why did this man look so familiar? She glanced over his face as he examined the drawings to make sure none of it was damaged. He had short dark hair with some greying on the sides but he did not appear older. It was fashionably styled with it being pushed up and out of his face yet still framed him. He had a mustache and goatee with scruff on his lower jawline and cheeks. He is far from ugly.
Sansa eyed his clothing. He was wearing a black suit with a forest green dress shirt that had the buttons undone at the top. A dark grey wool scarf was casually laid around his neck. She especially noted a mockingbird embroidered at the end of the scarf. That was a Baelish scarf. He must be rather wealthy to afford one, or just had rich friends.
The man coughed and she came out of her investigation and met his grey-green eyes. Wait. Wasn't this…?
"Thank you. It would have been catastrophic if my drawings had flown away."
He smiled but it did not reach his eyes.
Sansa couldn't place her finger on it but it felt like he might have been examining her as she just did him.
"Aspiring model?"
Sansa was taken aback. How did he know?
"Uh, yes. I just finished a call…"
The man glanced at the building they were in front of and gave a knowing smirk.
"Better give up the dream now. Hardly anyone makes it big enough to make all their work worthwhile."
Sansa bristled at this. What was this? Where did this come from?
"Is that so? How would you know anything about the industry and what my chances are?"
The man smirked again.
"I have not seen your face before and that is enough for me to know your chances."
The two seemed to be in a silent war with each other. This man did not know a thing about her and he was already making all these assumptions and the worst part? He seemed to be enjoying it!
Just as Sansa opened her mouth to speak, a voice called from the building she had just finished her call in.
"Petyr!"
Both Sansa and the man turned to look. It was the same distinguished caster that seemed to be in charge of the call.
"I'm coming I'm coming…"
Sansa turned to the green and black man who responded to the woman. Petyr? So many aspects of this man seemed so familiar yet she could not place her finger on it.
"Perhaps I will see you again. On a runway? Hm."
He smirked once more and Sansa was starting to hate that expression. He walked away from her and followed the woman into the building. Asshole!
Sansa fumed, but her growling stomach took her out of that place of hate. She stormed down the street, getting admiring glances from other men and women at how fast she could walk in heels.
She passed by a cafe that looked lovely and quaint. It was enough for Sansa to make the split decision to go inside. She walked up to the register and glanced up at the menu and smiled to herself.
"Earl grey tea with a lemon cake please."
Pulling out her wallet she paid for the order and the woman handed her a sign with a number on it. Sansa walked over to a table where magazines were placed out for patrons to take to their table with them while they ate. Sansa browsed through and her eye was caught by the distinct title, Vogue. Sansa had not picked up the newest issue yet so she pulled out the magazine. She suddenly felt sick. On the cover was the very rude man she had the displeasure of running into. Her wide eyes ran over his name. She had read it nearly ten times before the shock really took place. Petyr Baelish. No. No no no. Not the biggest name in the fashion industry. Sansa stared at his face. No, it was him. It was definitely him.
"FUCK!"
All eyes were on her in the cafe.
This could NOT be happening.