DISCLAIMER: I don't own ASOIAF or have anything to do with its creation or publication. All credit goes to George R. R. Martin. I did make Timory up, in case you were wondering.

A very careful reader will notice that the layout of the Eyrie and its adjoining castles is not exactly like that in the books. Don't think too much; it's fanfiction!

CHAPTER 7

SANSA

The wind blew around the mountain and through Sansa's hair as she rode in the box down the side of the Eyrie. The turnkey manning the winch had barely glanced at her when she said she was going down to Castle Sky, but she did not think the Master of Horse would be as easy to get by.

The Eyrie didn't have proper stables—there was no way for horses to get up the side of the mountain—but temporary structures had been added to the mule stables at Castle Sky to accommodate the horses of their guests. This was where Sansa's horse lived; a present from Petyr in preparation for their move. Relieved to be on solid ground, Sansa crossed to Castle Sky and headed straight for the lean-to tacked on to the stables.

Inside was a bustle of activity. A smith and his apprentice were shoeing a line of horses, and stableboys ran from one end of the barn to the other bringing saddles and gear to the horses. They were hard-pressed to get the horses prepared for the long journey home. The whole place smelled like leather and hay and iron.

Sansa marched to the rear where her horse was being kept out of the way. Lady Fair was a white mare with a disposition as sweet as her rider's. When she saw Sansa she whinnied and stuck her head out over the gate.

Sansa gave her an apple she grabbed on the way in. She stroked the horse's dark nose until a manure-stained hand gripped her shoulder and a scratchy voice edged with lower-class cant cut into her ear.

"Wotcher want here, girl?" Cadal, Sky's Master of Horse—a temporary position—wasn't much more than an up-jumped field-hand in Sansa's opinion. She threw back her shoulder and stepped away from him.

"That's no way to speak to me. My father gave me this horse and I came down to go riding. If you aren't going to saddle her yourself, get one of your boys to do it and leave me alone."

"Ridin', eh, not today yer not. Can't spare no boys to watch you."

She stamped her foot. "It's not my fault you waited with those horses. There's a storm coming and if I don't take her out today, I won't get another chance until we leave the Eyrie. Now saddle my palfrey!"

Cadal chuckled. "Bastard girl thinks she's a lady. No."

"My father treats me like a lady, and so should you. He said I could go riding. I came all the way down here, and I don't want to have to go all the way back up to the Eyrie and tell him that you wouldn't let me!"

"An' I don't want to go all up there and say I sent you out with no escort, 'cause we was too busy preparin' the horses to watch the little lady ride."

So that's the way of it, she thought, but luck was with her that day. As she averted her gaze her eyes fell on a newcomer to the stables, standing out from the rest of the servants because of his uncertainty and cleanliness. "I have an escort, though." She ran up to him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him up to the Master of Horse. "Timory is my escort."

"Is he now." Timory said nothing and offered no resistance to being pulled along, appearing smitten to be the object of Sansa's attentions. "I'll allow it, but don't take her too far, boy, just 'round these stoney tower parts."

Sansa bounced on her heels as Cadal left them to saddle their own horses and she set upon the task with gusto. Timory helped her lift the saddle onto Lady Fair's back, and when she was finally in one place tightening it, he spoke to her with some hesitation. "I'd be a fool to refuse an invitation to go riding with you, Alayne, but Ser Harry sent me down here to prepare our horses."

"Ser Harry won't mind you doing a favor for his betrothed."

"He might. We're to leave first thing tomorrow, you see."

"We won't be gone long," she assured him as she fastened the cinch. "We'll get yours ready now and do the others when we come back." He was supposed to do his own last, obviously, but Sansa pretended not to know that.

"I don't know . . . we came with six horses. I have to brush them, clean their feet, get new shoes if they need it, saddle them, and put the gear on when it gets sent down here."

Sansa left the bridle lax on Lady's face and turned to give Timory her full attention. "Please. You said yourself you're leaving today. We won't get another chance."

She didn't miss the blush that crept up his neck and felt a pang of guilt at all the trouble she was about to cause him.

"I'll get my garron."

He came back leading a shaggy gray-brown pony just as Sansa was attaching her saddlebag.

"What's in there?" he asked.

"Snacks," she lied, realizing she'd neglected to pack any food.

It took all of Sansa's self-control to lead her horse out of the stable at a walk, but once they were outside she mounted and set the pace at a brisk trot. Lady Fair was a Sand Steed from Dorne, with a lithe body made for running. Timory's little pony was just a hand shorter than hers, but its body was squat and tough and he had to canter on and off to keep up.

Once they were on the other side of the stone tower and therefore out of sight of the lean-to and the winch elevator, the steep path down to the Vale presented itself. If they continued straight around the castle walls the Gates of the Moon would mark the exit to the Vale, but Sansa had no hope of escaping that way. The green grass and sunlight of the open meadow beckoned outside the Eyrie's shadow.

"This is no place for a picnic. What do you say we ride down a bit, to the grass?"

"I don't know about that. The master said to stay around here."

The spongy turf of the Vale was hardly twenty meters away, though. "Don't be a bore," she teased him. "This place is hardly private." Wicked words for wicked deeds.

Timory blushed; his expression turned resolute and he turned his horse down the mountain path. Sansa knew she had goaded him, but any feelings of guilt she had were replaced by a sense of urgency. She let him go on ahead of her and pick his way down the trail. As soon as they reached the moss and grass at the base of the mountain Timory seemed content to stop, but Sansa led Lady Fair past him. Freedom was before her in the form of a wide open plain and she was ready to gallop across it.

Timory brought his horse up alongside hers, but before he could say anything she suggested they have a race.

"I was going to say we should stop right here. I really don't think a race is such a good idea."

"Yah!" Sansa kicked her horse and Lady stretched out her neck as she pulled into a gallop. A moment later she was tearing at the grass beneath the Eyrie and racing headlong out of its shadow and into the sunlit plain.

"Alayne!"

Fly, Lady. Fly fast. Sansa had never been an accomplished or intuitive rider and she could hear the hooves of Timory's garron beating against the rhythm of her own. If he caught her she was doomed, but his pony was stout and built for carting where hers was built for running and endurance. She prayed to the Gods for wings that would take her home. A voice cried out behind her, but Sansa didn't stop. The wind carried the voice away, and she and her horse across the Vale.