A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. I think this might be my favorite chapter so far. It took way too long to get here, though!

Chapter 22. Alayne VII

Many times in her former life Alayne had felt like a woman rather than child. When she learned she would be married to Prince Joffrey, she had felt quite mature and queenly. When she had confided to the Queen her father's plans to whisk her away from King's Landing, she had thought herself cunning and loyal to the crown and her future king. When she watched her father lose his own life, she knew her childhood to be over. Upon learning of the loss of her brothers, and then her mother, she knew she would never play again. But she had been wrong. She had still been a child- young, facing terrible difficulties, but a child. Because what is a child but a pawn of the parents or guardians, to discipline, love, or marry off as they pleased?

She could no longer play the role of a pawn. The wool was removed from her eyes, and she missed it deeply. The reassurance of a parent, a guardian. Even in King's Landing, parentless, alone, and beaten, she had her own life, and knew she would keep it, despite Joffrey's frequent threats.

Now, to keep her life, she had to stay atop the game. Continue to be useful, but not controlled, by Littlefinger.

She began to laugh from beneath her thick woolen counterpane. She wondered if she were going mad. She felt thankful to Joffrey and Cersei. For had they not trained her to say what people wanted to hear rather than what she thought? Had she not learned to lie? The nightmare that was King's Landing was simply training for the rest of her life. Who better to survive it? How many other members of her family had survived? Just her. She was the survivor. She had lasted in a den of lions; certainly she could manage one mockingbird.

And so Sansa returned to her mask of Alayne Stone. It was simply survival. She rose from beneath her warm blankets to stare intently into her small piece of polished silver. She practiced laughing, blushing, smiling, and giggling. She was ready for the day. She felt different. She couldn't pin the feeling exactly. But she was no longer simply trapped and hiding, as she had been in some form or another for years. She was taking action. She was afraid of failing, but excited, as well. She dressed modestly, but proudly displaced the silver mockingbird pin at her breast.

She broke her fast with Lord Robert, who was feeling well enough to order the castle about from his bed. They nibbled together upon oats, honey, and fresh fruit from the one glass house that survived the early winter storm. The silence of chewing was too much for Lord Robert, who quickly became bored and commanded Alayne to read out loud.

She pulled a wooden stool beside his bed, reading, as always, the tales of the Winged Knight. "Ser Artys Arryn was in a fervor to spread the word of his glorious seven gods to all infidels. By his own declaration, the High Priest Hugor of the Hill, on whose brow the first crown of the seven sat…"

"Alayne! Skip to the fighting! I don't need a history lesson of the gods just because you love them so much," Robert sniffed loudly, crossing his eyes and pinching her arm painfully. Alayne squirmed away carefully, apologizing as she rubbed away the pain of the pinch. "Forgive me, Sweetrobin. You must forget that I am not as brave as you. Why, if you had lived during this time, I am sure you would have been just as exalted as Ser Artys! Imagine had you been but grown for the War of the Five Kings! I'm sure you would have conquered them all! It is such a shame we have missed all of the glorious battles the rest of Westeros has been privy to watch. I so do wish we had been able to watch knights joust in their glory."

With this, Alayne carefully flipped the pages forward past the religious homilies and resumed, "And so, laden with the task of expanding the word of the Seven Gods, the Winged Knight crossed the narrow sea…"

Alayne broke off at this point, as she always did with Robert, to contemplate how the Winged Knight crossed the narrow sea. She thought by ship, as he had many men with him, perhaps the sails represented wings, but Robert delighted in the idea of a giant falcon, which the legends stated as truth. Alayne knew dragons had once populated the entire world. She wondered if once it was commonplace to ride them, or whether it had always been just Targaryens. Did people once ride all manners of creatures, including falcons? She let Robert win, as always, when he declared, "…And that is why the Eyrie is impregnable! Only one with a falcon such as Ser Artys could build or conquer such a magnificent castle!" He grinned, and bellowed, "If we had a falcon, we could MAKE IT FLY! We would never lose!"

Alayne smiled, as always, but she thought it rather easy to defeat the Eyrie. For had they not been surrounded and subsided on a meager provisions when they last resided in the Eyrie? Had the Lord Declarants not succumbed to her father's charms, they would have eventually starved. There would be no hope of resupply via man, dragon, or falcon when stuck in that dreary castle! Really, it was a stupid castle, she thought. For it was too easy to simply trap the rulers within. Why should anyone obey a ruler so far away? She much preferred it here in the Gates of the Moon.

"Robert, have you have practiced Falconry?" Alayne asked suddenly. "We could truly make a falcon fly, then!" But the boy shied away; he could express his wishes vocally, but to actually attempt them he needed bravery, which he sorely lacked. Instead, he sneered, "What could a bastard know about Falconry? You wouldn't be allowed to do it. That is a sport of the highborn."

"Forgive me, my sweet Lord. I forgot my place. Shall I continue to read to you?" she asked with a perfect smile. When had she last held a falcon? Was it with Margaery, during their brief friendship? It felt like a lifetime before. As though it was someone else. Truly, Alayne Stone had never practiced the sport.

Robert gestured for her to continue.

"…The Winged Knight crossed the narrow sea upon his trusted falcon. Upon landing, he beheld a land rich with fertile grains and grasses. The sun was glorious, shining brightly upon the many leagues of the green vale. He knew the Gods had destined him for this land. The sun served as the Crone's lamp, brightly guiding Ser Artys to his new domains. But others had already claimed these riches as their own. They were known as the First Men. The First Men were cruel savages, little more than animals…"

At this point, Robert jumped from his bed and pretended to stab the First Men as Alayne continued reading. She read quickly, knowing he was sick and would soon exhaust himself. She timed the story perfectly; he fell back into the bed exhausted just as the Winged Knight himself rested upon the mountain after vanquishing the First Men.

Alayne clapped and cheered for his sword skills as she closed the book. "Bravo, my Lord! But how I wish we could watch real knights in shining armor! Would it not be delightful to watch? It is so dreary here in the winter. So cold, and so few hours of daylight and enjoyment."

Robert finally caught Alayne's not-so-subtle hints and grinned, "Yes! We should have a tourney! My people would be so pleased! We will have knights and jousting and a melee!" Alayne smiled happily. Once again, she was no longer a piece. She was making the game move on her own. She was thrilled, and hugged him tightly in excitement.

"And I shall enter as a mystery knight! I'll take your favor and win the entire tournament!"

Alayne was slightly alarmed at that declaration, and, releasing Robert from the hug, suggested gently that the knights would want to honor Lord Robert. If he were to enter as a mystery knight, for whom would they fight? He frowned at the logic of it, but acquiesced when she assured him that he could still wear her favor even if not participating in the melee.

"Let me help you dress. Do you wish to inform my father of your plans?" Alayne didn't want him to forget and not follow through with the tournament idea. It was the penultimate part of her plan as a player.

"Yes, let's see him at once!" Robert shouted happily. But the shout was followed by a bout of coughing and wheezing.

"Oh, dear Sweetrobin," Alayne gushed, cradling him in bed and caressing his head. "You rest and get strong. We'll talk to him after you rest for a few hours. How does that sound?"

He calmed. The shaking was avoided, thank the Gods. She sat next to him, gently stroking his hair, until he fell asleep.

Alayne found her father in his solar, peering at one of the rubies through a maester glass. He allowed her to enter, staring closely at her face. "Father," Alayne said brightly, kissing him upon his cheek. She made sure to place the kiss just slightly closer to the lips than a daughterly kiss should be placed. Let him think about that, she thought to herself, blushing. She remembered she blushed around Ser Loras a lot. She just had to pretend her father was Loras and not a slimy monster.

"You look quite cheerful this morning, my Sweetling." She grinned back, recklessly remarking, "Perhaps I had plenty to think about whilst abed last night." Truly, it was not hard to do. Had she not been trained to turn men's head since a young age?

She thought she saw Petyr blush briefly before he beckoned her to sit beside him and stare at the ruby beneath the maester glass. She sat, slightly closer to him than she would naturally prefer.

"It is beautiful," she gasped truthfully when she looked through the glass. The glass magnified the ruby and she saw it sparkle and shine. "What will you do with it? With all of them?"

"I'll tell you for another kiss," he teased. Was there hope in his eyes?

"Father!" Alayne admonished him, tugging gently on his tunic to gain his attention. "What happened to being careful?" She wagged her index finger in his face, teasing, "no kiss. You'll get spoiled. How do I even know that what you will share is worth the kiss? You are very cryptic, you know. You had better tell me first." She grinned up at him. If she focused on his nose, perhaps he could be Loras.

Petyr rose and slowly, deliberately, walked to his desk. He pulled a letter from the top of a neat pile and nonchalantly fanned it in the air. "I'm willing to exchange the content of this very interesting letter for one little kiss." He said the words lightly, but his eyes scanned her body, sending shivers through Alayne. "Deal?"

"Deal. But-" she stood and snatched the letter, "I get to read it first!" She giggled and ran to the opposite corner of the room, glad her face was no longer visible.

Amused, Petyr didn't pursue her, but went back to studying the ruby.

Alayne sat upon a settee and caught her breath before studying the document. She took her time, adjusting a candle on the table adjacent. She glanced at her father. He was still patiently staring at the ruby. Did she detect a slight smirk on his face?

Eventually, she decided she had teased him enough and looked at the letter. The seal was broken in half. Unfamiliar to her eyes, she rerolled the letter trying to put the pieces back together. She gasped when she realized it was a three-headed dragon. She opened it eagerly, thoughts of her game with her father forgotten.

It was addressed to her father, the Lord Protector of the Vale and to Lord Robert Arryn. The contents were astonishing and she reread it twice before shakily approaching her father.

"Father- is this a jape?" she asked weakly. "Is the Dragon Queen truly coming here?"

"Well, I do not know whether the Queen herself will deign to visit, but she needs to feed her armies, and the Vale is one of the few places with foodstuff after the war."

"Why isn't she simply invading? Why warn us and give us an opportunity to surrender?"

"My dear daughter, I've been planning for this moment for quite some time. Always be prepared, you know. Why else did I send for these rubies? Or those dreadful Targaryen tapestries that took two moons to arrive from King's Landing?"

"You are protecting us. You knew we would lose a battle?"

"My Sweetling, they have three dragons. I rather think we would lose quickly. It is winter. I cannot afford to run and hide. And so, we surrender gently, and become the Dragon Queen's first allies. It is clear she will win the final war."

"Oh." It was all Alayne could think to say. Perhaps she should stop pretending he was Loras. She had acted mindless around Loras, as well. She needed to keep her wits.

"You still owe me a kiss," Petyr reminded her.

"Oh, yes." She gently kissed his check, too shocked to play the game of wanting him, but he did not pursue her further.

"Am I going to die? My father helped usurp Aerys," she worried.

"Alayne Stone's father is going to be Daenerys Targaryen's greatest ally," Petyr reminded her.

"Oh yes. That's right," she muttered absently.

"You are shocked, my dear. I am sorry. I thought you ready for this. Perhaps I pushed you too quickly." Petyr cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. "Are you well?"

"Yes, father." She paused to collect her feelings. It was difficult to do whilst staring into his eyes. "I know you will protect us from harm."

Her mind was working furiously. Would Littlefinger throw a wolf to the dragons, so to speak? Or did he still need her? She was uncertain. But clearly, once again he was many steps ahead of her.

Her elation at maneuvering Robert was dimming.

"Why did you stop by this morning, Sweetling?" Her father asked, trying to shake her from her fears. He released his hand from her chin and instead gently held her hand, absently worrying her palm with his fingers.

"Oh, yes," Alayne gushed, happy to be upon her own ground again. "Robert wants to hold a tournament. I just thought I would warn you. He sounded quite adamant, but I thought it might actually be a good idea. Everyone is so weary of winter. Perhaps it would be a good change of pace."

"And you might get to see a certain knight?" he asked pointedly, pulling her arm and forcing her once again to look into his eyes.

She laughed and blushed, averting his stare. "Well, I wouldn't want last night's lesson to go to waste, now would I? Aren't I supposed to win his heart and title for us, father?" She mischievously looked back up to his face.

He raised his eyebrows. "For us?" he asked, dropping her hand.

"Of course. I am sure that after all the trouble you took to acquire me, you would not let me go that easily," she archly remarked.

He shook his head and turned to seat himself at the table. "You are too intelligent for your own good." Alayne blushed with pride at his words.

"Please let Robin tell you of the tourney himself?" she asked, "He was very enthusiastic and pleased with himself."

"No doubt of that. The child is a conceited menace, but," he sighed, "I'd wager everyone is tired of staring at nothing but snow. Anything else? I am very busy this morning."

"No." She turned to leave before she remembered, "wait, father! The name. On the letter." She rushed back to his side and pulled the letter from the desk. "It was signed by the hand of the queen, 'Hugor Hill'!"

Petyr raised his eyes, indicating she should continue. "Hugor Hill!" Petyr did not seem to recognize the name. She paused, trying to remember the exact phrasing of the scripture she had memorized as Alayne Stone, the faithful worshiper of the seven. "It says in the Seven-Pointed Star that, 'the Father reached his hand into the heavens and pulled down seven stars and one by one set them on the Brow of Hugor of the Hill to make a glowing crown.' Do you remember? Hugo Hill is the first king of the Andals." She paused. "Hugor Hill is also in the Winged Knight tales. He sends Ser Artys Arryn to the Vale to vanquish the First Men."

She took a deep breath. "Are you sure they will let us surrender peacefully? They might be coming to annihilate us."