A/N: I'm the worst. Thank you all for your patience-I sincerely appreciate all the reviews. I will try my best to get out another chapter as soon as possible.

They were leaving and Sansa was no closer to a decision than she had been a week ago when she had left Tyrion's chambers.

True to his word, Tyrion did not treat her any differently. He referred to her as 'Lady Stone' and treated her with detached respect. But while he certainly did not avoid her, he did not go out of his way to seek her company. They spoke when necessary, but only about business and always around others. And honestly, she found it irritating. She knew she was being unfair-just a week ago she had been doing everything she could to avoid his presence. But now she looked for him in the galleys during meal times and her eyes rested on him longer than was appropriate. She knew she was acting suspiciously, but she couldn't help herself. For so long she had been alone with her secrets. For so long she had been unable to trust anyone. And although her mind was screaming at her to keep her facade as Alayne, her heart longed to be Sansa again. She felt wind-tossed and aimless and Tyrion was like a steady rock in the storm. But while she was drawn to him as the only other mummer in her show, he was unperturbed-going about his business as usual.

Despite Harry's inquisitive looks and Myranda's wagging eyebrows, she hadn't realized how obvious she was being until the silver queen herself noticed her bizarre actions.

She had been spending quite a bit of time with Daenerys in the past week, in a foolish attempt to see her hand. It was fruitless, but she had gotten to know the woman a little better. But even if she was a complete stranger, she would notice the suspicion in the queen's amethyst eyes as she sent her a sideways glance one day as they had poured over some accounts.

"I see Lord Tyrion was not wrong about your abilities...he seems to have grown quite fond of you." While her words were not posed as a question, Sansa knew the queen was expecting an explanation.

Sansa swallowed dryly before giving the queen a shaky answer. "I am glad that the Lord Hand is pleased with my work." The queen did not respond, only looked at her expectantly and Sansa subtly steeled herself and forced a shy smile to her lips. She prattled on for a bit about how lucky she was to be noticed by the royal party and how she was happy to be of use until the suspicion died in Daenerys' eyes. But while her Alayne mask was strong and convincing, Sansa couldn't help but notice how it was chafing at her, now that she had been granted an opportunity to set it aside.

...

...

She stood with the rest of the Valemen not riding North, crippled with fear as they said their farewells to the royal party. Her mind spun and her breath came short, but still her instincts warred each other. Was she making a mistake? Was she about to lose her last chance? Or was she escaping death by staying still? Each of the hard earned lessons that had been beaten into her throughout her childhood flashed behind her eyes.

The queen strode out into the courtyard with her hand at her side. Both wore thick, wool cloaks tied tightly around their body. The queen's long, silver hair was plaited back and although the braids were complicated and overlapping, they did not take after the elegant, complex styles in the south. Yet they weren't quite northern either. The queen exuded a foreign, yet natural aura that set her apart and above from the rest of them. The back of Sansa's mind screamed that this woman was a just, true queen that would lead the seven kingdoms into peace. That Daenerys would not be like Cersei or the Mad King himself. Yet still, she hesitated-frozen with indecision. Starks and Targaeryns and Lannisters had bad blood woven between them for generations. Could she trust this queen, and with her the Lord of Casterly Rock? Tyrion had never hurt her...but...

The silver queen went to her dragon and Tyrion walked to his. Sansa subtly wiped the sweat from her hands, but she couldn't help the rock that had settled in her stomach or the way her lungs were refusing to work. She fidgeted like a child, catching the attention of Harry by her side, who looked at her with concern.

"Alayne?" he whispered, worry laced in his tone.

But her eyes and attention were locked on her husband. Tyrion climbed up onto the gleaming green scales of his fierce mount and she watched as he took one last glance of the Vale. He scanned the crowd as if looking for her and Sansa's breath stopped. They finally met eyes and Sansa's stomach dropped to her feet at the disappointment and regret in his gaze.

Oh, you absolute fool...

It was as if instantly her vision was cleared and her heart squeezed in her chest. This was her moment, her chance to reclaim her past- and she was about to lose it. Before she even knew what was happening, her feet were moving on their own. She vaguely heard Harry call to her from behind and the shouts of the queen's soldiers as they cried for her to halt. She didn't even register the dragons growls at the unfamiliar person's approach or see their teeth as they turned to face her.

The only thing that she was aware of was the pair of mismatched eyes that had locked on her. She saw surprise as well as concern flicker in them as she came closer. Without breaking his gaze, he swung his stunted legs from his perch and slid down to the ground, slowly making his way towards her.

Within moments, they had come together and she had grasped at his outstretched hands.

"Sansa...?" he murmured concerned, his gaze flying across her face.

She only just became aware of the tears that were cascading down her cheeks. But despite them, and despite her fear, she couldn't help but smile.

A/N: Now things are moving!