Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Notes: Hi, it's me again. Yes, I know I've started way more stories than I can finish...it's a curse. This has popped into my mind and will probably drag as I move beyond my capacity to update stories on a regular basis. I hope you like this one. I've been wanting to kind of mix Baelish into this for a while and I might have found a good way to do that. This story is very much a SanSan story with a bit of Baelish creep planned in. As usual, I'm not hot to make this something long. Just an interesting story with some satisfying intimate moments.

Please leave me comments!

Alayne

Most nights the door to Alayne's bedroom would creak open, a faint bit of light streaming in from the hall freezing her in place. She knew better than to move or even alter her breathing when it happened, for she didn't want her father to know she was aware of his presence. Sometimes Lord Baelish would merely lean against the doorframe, the sound of his silk tunic rubbing against the rough frame unmistakably as he watched her sleep. Other times, like tonight, he would step further into her room shutting the door quietly behind him. Her heart would beat harder then, making Alayne fear he might hear it through her chest. She would swallow quietly, attempting to replenshish moistness to a throat gone suddenly dry. Some moments would pass, then she would hear the slipping of silk on his fine Dornish dressing gown, the garment moving and shifting as he reached between his legs. Inevitably his breath would get louder and more labored as the sound of his hand moving over his manhood intensified. On the nights when her back was to him, Alanye would squeeze her eyes tightly shut hoping that this night would not be the night he took his fantasies further. Willing him to stay away from her bed and away from her person, Alayne would try to take her mind to another place, blocking him out completely. Once his peak came, it would be followed by some grunting and a sigh akin to relief before her door would open and he would leave her there, feeling more alone than ever.

This night, Alayne waited longer than necessary for her father to return to his private chambers before she pushed off her covers in frustration and went to her window. He had fallen back on what he knew made money and invested in a high end brothel situated on a hill. It was a beautiful place where he could provide her many beautiful things, but Alayne was slowly growing tired of this life. She was also growing tired of his advances.

It had been three years since she had fled King's Landing with Lord Baelish. Then she had been known by another name, her true name, Sansa Stark. Alayne shook her head at the thought of how young and foolish she had been then. She was a child of the summer, brought up on fairy tales of love, morality and honor. So ill prepared for life, so ill prepared for every single thing that would come, that it made her sick to think of it. Dorne was safe for them, beyond the reach of Cersei Lannister and her agents, close to the free cities should they need to flee. It had been a good place to hide where, nobody knew them and nobody cared to know them.

She put a hand on her wooden mashrabiya bedroom window overlooking Planky Town, above the brothel, and looked to the sea. The heavy saltiness of the sea entered her nostrils, a light breeze moved her hair. It was late in the night, the moon still high in the sky illuminating the town and beyond for her to see. Though a part of her had grown to love Dorne, she knew it was not her home. Though part of her had grown to love Lord Baelish, he was not her father and certainly not her lover. Perhaps she would have wed him soon after they fled had he asked her. Sansa was so scared and so ill prepared to survive in the world, she would have done anything to stay alive. Alayne, on the other hand, had grown into a vibrant young woman since then, capable of many things, particularly plotting her own escape.

'What a difference even a day can make.' she thought to herself.

These three years had seen her change more than she could have imagined. Using the Dornish henna to dye her hair almost black was one of the most obvious differences, but there were many more. She had grown to a tall and well formed 5 foot 9 inches, her breasts and hips forming sizable curves where there had been none before. Her black hair, deep blue eyes and white skin attracted all sorts of looks in Dorne. It was her skin and eyes that attracted them mainly. She was very thankful that the true color of her hair was unknown to them, red hair was so rare in Dorne the locals would have been clamoring to touch her, or worse.

Her transformation from a young teenager into a young woman had also drawn unwanted attention from her father. In the beginning, as they lived with her aunt in the Vale, she had been flattered by it, enjoyed his compliments and gentle innocent touches. Though as she got to know him better and her body became more to his liking, he had begun to strain the cover of a father-daughter relationship. Her aunt had noticed it, and it had lead to her death, had caused them to flee the Vale. But her father could not help himself, even now Alayne was certain the employees of the brothel suspected incest between them, but nobody breathed a word. Incest was one of the lesser evils in a brothel, and better to leave the brothel master and his daughter to their own.

Petyr Baelish loved her, of that she had no doubt. Whether Alayne or Sansa, he had coveted her from the moment he had laid eyes on her in King's Landing. But his love was a poisoned love, leaving a trail of death and destruction in its wake. It was a love that scared her, made her keenly aware that she needed to play his game just right, or she would fall victim to it. So during the day she played along, all the while learning all the life lessons he had to teach her. At night, she tried to rid herself of the pain and anguish of knowing that this was yet another golden cage in which she was imprisoned. Another man who wanted to keep her all to himself. Alayne was biding her time, waiting for the right moment to present itself for escape. This could be in one day or one hundred years, but she was determined to save herself from him.

Alayne eyed a figure with a torch, almost a blip on the winding streets of Planky Town making his way home drunk. She knew that her father had plans to marry her to a lord of Westeros, probably a very rich and powerful old one. Upon his untimely death she could take his lands, and move on to the next willing lord. Her name as a Stark, her power over the North would only consolidate more minor houses to her. If played well, her father stood to gain greatly from her through marriage. This was why he had not sullied her. Perhaps even to his credit, Lord Baelish was not interested in a woman's maidenhood, but in her prowess in the bedroom. Others were not so open minded on this topic and would only marry a young maid. So her father kept her unblemished, while showing her all the sexual delights she could imagine while she helped him run their family business. Alayne knew he meant to take her for himself eventually, whether he would wait for her future husband to die or take her the day after the wedding was a bet she had with herself.

'A morbid bet.' she sighed.

Whether she played along with his wishes to marry, or was able to find a way to escape him before the time came, it didn't really matter. No matter what the future would hold, Alayne Stone would be no man's wife.