Sorry for such the late update! I've been so incredibly busy... but new chapters are coming, this fic will not be abandoned! Enjoy x

Alayne woke to the sound of an eagle's screech, from the bird that soared and glided just outside her chamber window. Her body felt weak. Her fall through the ice the day before had been awful- but it would have been worse if Willas Tyrell had not been there to carry her back to the castle.

Willas Tyrell. Willas Tyrell was a pleasant presence in the Vale, Alayne could not deny. More than pleasant, she thought to herself. His manners echoed her own, his cheerful demeanour a welcome guest- his dimpled smile brightened the winter weather, the dreary chambers, the dim, stone hallways.

He was almost enough to distract Alayne from the annoyance that was her cousin Robert Arryn, and the underlying sense of unease that grew each day whenever Alayne was left alone with her "father." The kiss he had left lingering on her lips ceased to leave, the scent of mint seemingly impossible to scrub off her tender lips.

Alayne jolted from her haze of sleep after a gentle knock on her chamber door. "Lady Stone?"

Willas. Alayne launched herself to her feet, tottering on her weak legs. She caught a glimpse of her sleep-dishevelled hair and the purple rings beneath her eyes in her looking glass, and groaned. Her sleeping shift was slipping down over her shoulder, revealing the creamy white skin beneath. She couldn't let Willas see her like this!

"Hold on a moment!" Alayne flattened her hair desperately, and scoured the room for something to wrap around herself. Her cloak had been taken to dry in the winter sun, so she made do with the heavy fur blanket from her bed. She wrapped it about her shoulders. It was better than nothing.

Alayne took a deep breath, and approached the door. She pinched her cheeks to give them more colour, and opened the door with one hand to prevent the blanket from falling.

Willas's beaming smile appeared, his face lighting up. "You're alive! Praise the gods," He crowed. His eyes travelled down Alayne's body, taking in the fur wrapped precariously about her shoulders. "I must say, your cloak looks remarkably like the fur from your bed."

Alayne blushed furiously. "You caught me whilst I was still abed, and my cloak has been taken," she sputtered.

Willas chuckled. "The bedcover becomes you, Lady Stone. May I come in?" Alayne nodded, stepping aside. Willas hobbled over to her unmade bed. "Do you mind if I…?"

"Oh, no, of course, sit!" Alayne stood awkwardly holding the blanket around herself. "Lord Willas, I cannot thank you enough after yesterday… I could have been killed, if not for you. How did you carry me? I mean, with your leg…"

Willas raised his eyebrows at her as he sat on the featherbed. "You would believe that I would simply let you freeze, Lady Stone? Is that the way of it?" Alayne heard laughter in his voice. "I must say, you have little faith in me."

"You mustn't turn my words around like that, Lord Willas," Alayne suppressed a giggle. "I simply meant… it must have been difficult to carry my weight, as I was waterlogged and frozen, and your leg... it must have been painful!"

Willas lifted his cane into his lap, rolling the polished wood around in his pale, rough fingers- Alayne noticed that only the fingertips of his left hand were calloused. She put it down to Willas reading constantly- she'd noticed the same affliction on someone else, a husband from another life. For a fleeting moment she imagined what it would feel like to have that calloused hand run over her own smooth bare skin- she bit her lip and forced the thought away.

"You are right, Lady Stone," Willas' voice jolted her back into reality, "it was painful. But not as painful as the thought of your absence from the Eyrie."

Alayne's stomach fluttered. "You are very kind to say so, Lord Willas." She scuffed her bare feet on the stone floor, hoisting up the fur around her shoulders. "I cannot thank you enough for saving me."

Willas smiled, his eyes soft, and goose-bumps rose on Alayne's skin. "The other night I told you that you were quiet. And you are. But it makes hearing you speak that much more exquisite," he began, his voice full of wonder. "I may have saved you, Lady Stone; but I feel that you are a woman who does not need saving often. I sense a strength in you, and intelligence- types of strength and intelligence that cannot be replicated."

Alayne was lost for words. No one had ever, in her life, told her that she was strong (besides Petyr, but he didn't count), let alone clever. But Petyr's words from the night before echoed through her mind.

The Tyrell's cannot be trusted. With anything.

"Your words are honestly too kind, Lord Willas," Alayne stammered, her eyes avoiding his. "Your smile and sense of humour have brought warmth to the Eyrie, and I cannot repay you for the courage you showed yesterday for my benefit."

Willas leaned heavily on his cane, and pulled himself to his feet, wincing. "Perhaps… perhaps you could repay me by breaking your fast with me in the Crescent Chamber? You need sustenance, Lady Stone- and I hear you have a fondness for lemoncakes." The dimple that Alayne had noticed in Willas's cheek appeared fleetingly.

Alayne could not help but agree. "Of course. Though, I may have to dress… I don't believe a fur bedcover is suitable attire for the child of Lord Baelish."

"I personally like the fur." Willas clapped his hands together with glee. "Lovely! I'll make sure that there are lemoncakes hot on the trencher. I… I will leave you to, hm, dress. Yes. Good." Willas made his way slowly towards the door, cane clicking on the floor.

Alayne turned her back, smiling inwardly- he called me strong, she mused, he called me clever. She shed her fur and chose a simple dress in midnight blue, lacing it up herself, achingly. She brushed her long, coppery-brown hair until it shone… her forehead creased when she saw the auburn roots creeping in around her temples. She would need more dye, and soon, lest she be discovered.

Once she was ready, she made her way down the winding corridor to the Crescent Chamber, the Eyrie's reception hall, where Willas, Petyr and Robert all sat breaking their fast. Petyr swept over to Alayne, planting a moist, mint-scented kiss on her cheek. Alayne fought the urge to shiver, remembering the kiss he's given the night before.

"My beautiful daughter is awake at last!" he purred, resting a hand on the small of her back possessively, leading her to a seat. When she saw that Willas was watching that hand carefully, her face burnt hot. "You must eat, Sweetling, get your strength back up. Today you and Myranda must tend to Lord Willas' men- they will need feeding, and their horses will need tending to."

Alayne was aghast. Why should she have to do the tasks of a stable boy? "But… but P- father, I am not skilled in those… areas. Can the stable boy not perform these tasks?" she tried not to sound like she was complaining in front of Willas. She glanced at him. "I mean… Lord Willas' mean deserve the best, and I would certainly not give the best."

Petyr's moustache jumped in a small smirk. "Actually, Lord Willas requested you himself," he said, furtively stroking her lower back.

Alayne was shocked. She looked over at Willas, who was trying to not smile. "I must say, I believe you have the best skills in hospitality in the Eyrie, Lady Stone." His eyes glinted mischievously. Alayne narrowed her eyes at him, but the edge of her lips curled up slightly.

Petyr, witnessing the eye contact, cleared his throat. "Alayne, I assure you, you can perform these tasks with ease." He sat her down across from his own seat. It was then that Alayne noticed young Robert seated beside her- she was surprised she had not been ambushed with a hug or a nuzzling. Robert was quiet, his cheeks pale and sticky, a subdued version of his already meagre self.

Alayne's eyebrows knitted in concern. Why is he constantly ill? The thought was edged with a sense of bitterness. "Sweetrobin, have you eaten?" she eyed the plate before him, laden with fruit and some cheese.

He turned his gaunt face to peer at her through rheumy eyes. "M'not hungry," he mumbled.

Alayne looked at Petyr, who shrugged. "He's been like this all morning. Little Lord, if you want to grow up big and strong, you must break your fast. Eat your cheese, and stop being so childish."

"To be fair, he is a child," Willas said softly, biting into an apricot. Alayne snorted, but put a stop to it when Petyr huffed through his nose with frustration.

Alayne leaned across to rest a hand on Robert's forehead, and gasped. "Father, he's so hot. Could you please fetch Randa? He must be seen to." She stroked Robert's sallow cheek. "You must try eating something, Sweetrobin. I don't want you wasting away," she said gently. She felt Willas' eyes on her, and she swore she saw him smile from the corner of her eye.

Petyr scratched the back of his neck. "Of course." He approached a maid who was bringing a plate of freshly baked bread from the kitchen. "Fetch Lady Royce, if you would," he ordered, before letting her place the bread on the table. "Tell her to find the nearest maester."

"Yes, M'Lord." She bobbed in a curtsy.

Willas got to his feet and hobbled over to take the bread from her hands. "Let me," he took the plate from her hands, beaming. The serving girl blushed gratefully, and turned to fetch Randa. Willas's face contorted in pain when she had turned her back.

Alayne could not help but admire his thoughtfulness, watching him fondly. Willas sensed her watching him and caught her eye. Her eyelashes lowered as her cheeks reddened. She turned back to young Robert, stooping in front of him.

"Sweetrobin? Are you feeling unwell?" She asked softly, smoothing his damp dark hair back from his clammy forehead.

"Mm," he replied. Alayne took that for a yes. At that moment, Myranda Royce bustled in, her round cheeks ruddy. Her chest was flushed, and a line of sweat beaded above her full top lip.

"What's amiss?" she wheezed, smoothing her dark hair. Petyr nodded towards Robert, who moaned quietly.

"He won't say. I'm guessing he feels unwell," he said flippantly.

"Oh no," Myranda simpered, crouching beside Alayne in front of Robert. "Does the little lord want to go back to bed? Shall I read him some of his favourite stories?"

At that, Robert perked up a little. "The one about Aegon the conqueror?" he croaked, his voice crackling with phlegm.

Myranda nodded. "The very one." Alayne helped Robert out of his chair and into Myranda's soft arms. "I've ordered the maester to meet us in Robert's chambers. I'm sure he'll be well again by this evening," she told Petyr.

"Very well. Make sure his shaking is seen to as well, I don't want another incident like that with the water pitcher happening again." Petyr walked them out of the Crescent Chamber, leaving Alayne and Willas alone. Alayne stood up straight, and sat herself across from Willas, an eyebrow raised.

Willas grinned, pushing a plate of fresh lemoncakes towards her. "I must say, I miss the fur already. You might want to eat, my lady. You will need energy to help tend to my men today."

Alayne pressed her lips together into a thin line. "I would ask why you've asked specifically for me to do this gruelling task, but I doubt you will give me a straight answer. No one gives me a straight answer." She selected a lemoncake and bit into it, letting the tart flavour of the lemon and the sweetness of the sugar melt in her mouth. She sighed contentedly. "Oh… these are delicious!"

"I told you before, Lady Stone, your skills in hospitality and your gentle soul are the very thing my men and their horses need. And I'm glad you like them, I asked them to be made for you especially. Your father told me you liked them; I can tell you're very close with him."

Alayne searched for words. She did not want to lie to Willas Tyrell- the false words always left a foul taste in her mouth. "He's such a good guardian to me; I don't know where I'd be without him." It wasn't a lie.

Willas leaned forward, listening earnestly. "My father is quite the opposite. A good man, but hardly a guardian; I had to learn how to be one myself so I could watch out for my siblings."

That rang a bell for Alayne. "Like when you saved Garlan from becoming Garlan the Gross!" she blurted, unthinkingly. As soon as she'd said it, she'd regretted it.

Willas laughed, but his eyes were confused. "Yes! Exactly- forgive me, how did you hear about that?" a line appeared between his eyebrows.

Yes, Alayne thought, how does a bastard girl from the Vale know about that? Garlan could hardly have told her hermself. Stupid, stupid.

"I… oh, well… my father knew Garlan, he told the story often…" Alayne stammered. Willas seemed sceptical.

"I see!" his smile was genuine, but something similar to curiosity remained behind his eyes. "Well, Lady Stone." He stood up shakily, and limped around to her chair. He held out his hand. "Shall we go and prepare for a large day ahead?"

Alayne gave a heavy, long-suffering sigh. "If I must!" She was surprised at her own humour- when was the last time she had made a jape? She could not recall. She placed her hand in Willas's, who helped her up. His hand lingered for a moment, trailing over the smooth plane of her hand.

"Such lovely hands," he said softly, examining it. He lifted his own up and compared it to hers- his was weathered and calloused from all his books and his cane, and hers was soft and pale. The pad of his thumb ran over her palm, causing her breathing to quicken. "They will not be as lovely after today," he chuckled.

Alayne caught his eye. The dim morning light shining through the high hall windows did not diminish the loveliness of Willas's features. "I am almost in fear of what you have planned for me," she replied, letting her eyes wallow in his, letting them travel over the lines of his face. A shiver went down her spine, a completely different sort to the one that Petyr initiated in her.

Willas had difficulty maintaining eye contact, and his eyes drifted over Alayne's shoulder. "I… we should leave if we are to be ready on time, my lady." He dropped his hand, and swiftly shuffled his way passed her, his cane clicking on the ground. Alayne felt a small pang in her chest- how abrupt, she thought, but when she turned she saw why.

Petyr stood at the door, holding it open for Willas. "Lord Willas," he nodded his head curtly, his voice low. Willas returned the gesture.

"Lord Baelish. My thanks." His voice was brusque, as he left as quickly as he could. Petyr let the door shut behind him, and turned to Alayne, a dangerously inquisitive smile on his face. He stroked his goatee, smoothly approaching her.

"My beautiful daughter." He stood until his face was mere inches from her own. "Are you remembering what I told you last night?"

Alayne swallowed. "I am remembering to tread carefully, Father." Her shoulders slumped, and a ball of hot shame burnt in her belly. "Lord Willas only wants my help, that is all."

Petyr ran the knuckles of his hand along her cheekbone. "And what do you want, Alayne?"

Alayne frowned. "I want only to serve him as he asks," she said quietly, "but it is you I serve foremost. You are my kin. My only kin."

"Indeed." Petyr's eyes trailed down to Alayne's chest, then back to her face. Alayne's stomach twisted. "Just remember who you are, Alayne. Remember who got you here, and remember who cares for you above all else," he purred. "Now go. Go and serve Willas's men."

Alayne curtsied swiftly and followed Willas out the door.