Oneshot: The truest name she ever had.
I promise that I am writing chapters as well as these one shots, but these are a little too tempting to stay in my head!
So this piece was inspired by a crack!idea that came about from GRRM’s statement on whether Sandor and Sansa would meet again:
"Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone."
As well as a quote from Jaime Lannister which on how if Sansa is smart she’ll forget she’s a Stark and marry a blacksmith or an innkeep (can't find that exact one at the moment sorry!).
So here goes:
Petyr Baelish's bastard daughter Alayne Stone elopes from the Vale of Arryn with an unknown sellsword, and nobody cares to look for her.
It is the beginning of Spring after all, a time for elopements. Just one month prior, Lord Baelish's sworn sword Lothor Brune had eloped with Mya Stone, leaving his lord with no notice at all.
Perhaps she was inspired by the romance of it all, some of the Vale's residents shrug. Perhaps he was an old lover of hers from her time at the motherhouse, others theorise.
In the end, Alayne Stone is only a bastard girl and if she has found some man to give her his name then so be it.
Lord Baelish had been the only one to care about it, demanding that guards be sent out immediately after the girl and her lover to bring them back, an unjustified reaction in the eyes of many.
Then a note in Alayne's hand is found, accusing her father of slowly poisoning young Robert Arryn, and suddenly Petyr Baelish had more pressing matters to attend to. The note states that when her father had finally seen her, he had noticed her resemblance to the missing Northern Princess, Sansa Stark, and concocted a scheme to gain the North through her. Poor Alayne’s conscience would not allow her to participate in such a terrible lie, and so she is leaving.
Petyr Baelish is judged guilty and put to death. Nobody pays attention to his half mad ramblings about betrayal and Sansa Stark and Cat, Cat…
And so Alayne Stone remains unaccounted for, eloped with her lover, and nobody cares to look for her.
**
"I could take you North," he had said when he came for her, "Take you home to Winterfell, help you reclaim it. It could be yours."
"And you?" She had asked.
A question that could be taken in more than one way.
"I would fight for you, guard you, keep you safe."
She thinks on it, it is not enough.
"Stand by, while they marry me to some lord and give my birthright to him instead?"
"That's the way of the world, little bird, and I know my place in it."
Sansa Stark had once known her place in the world, but now she finds that things are less certain than they once were, her destiny is hers for the choosing for the first time in her life.
She is silent, and he sees her look down at her hands. His fate rests in those hands.
"I do not wish to reclaim my birthright, I do not want to go back North. I am a bastard now," she tells him finally, "And the world does not work the same way for me anymore. Let Jon have Winterfell, or Arya if she ever comes back, just let it be anyone but me. Let Sansa be forgotten and let Alayne live. Take me to a heart tree and put your cloak around my shoulders and give me your name instead. Take me somewhere far away, anywhere other than North."
"And whoever fucking said..."
She fixes him with a look, if he's come for her after all these years then it does not need to be said.
"You don't know what you're giving up, this is madness." he shakes his head in disbelief.
"I do know." she counters. "I also know what I will gain."
She is tired, so very tired. Tired of intrigues and tired of lies, tired of game of power where she is a prize to be won at the end. The North will never truly be hers, she will only ever be a sidenote, somebody else's stepping stone on the way to power.
"You're still married to the Imp." he continues, waiting for her to challenge it even as she watches the birth of a strange emotion within his eyes.
"Tyrion can live or die as he pleases, and I doubt he is concerned of what becomes of me." her voice is determined then. "Sansa Stark married Tyrion Lannister, Alayne Stone is unwed and can marry where she pleases and nobody could care less."
He kisses her there, in the darkness by the side of the road on the way to nowhere really, and it is not the way she had imagined it to be. The corner of his mouth is awkward where it was burned and he kisses her desperately and hard but his lips are soft and not so cruel as she had thought they would be.
In the end, it is the truest lie that she has ever known.
**
He marries her in front of a heart tree three days later, draping an olive green cloak around her shoulders.
It does not matter that it is not in his house colours. It does not matter that the cloak she sheds to receive his is black rather than grey and white.
The only witnesses to their marriage are the old gods and Sansa's sole ornamentation is an early spring flower tucked behind her ear, but it is a thousand times better than her first marriage.
But no, for Alayne this is the first marriage, she reminds herself.
The leaves of the heart tree rustle and she almost feels that she can hear her voice being called.
"I will be happy." she tells the tree, "I will have a long life, a happy life and though I take another name, though I leave my House behind, I will not forget. I will never forget."
Never.
He takes her to the nearest inn, and the room is small, and the mattress lumpy but it is still a thousand times better than the bedding that a girl once known as Sansa Stark had known.
He tries to be gentle with her, to ensure that she might have her pleasure as well, but he has been dying for the touch of her for years and she, while eager, is as nervous as she is excited. They fumble clumsily, desperately clinging, lips meeting when not upon each others bodies.
It hurts desperately, so badly that she needs to resist the urge to cry out, but it is a good pain, and she breathes through it. Then it is done, and she is relieved that it was not so frightening as she feared.
He holds her tightly afterwards, clutches her, and she thinks she can feel a wetness upon her hair where his cheek rests.
" I didn't know, I thought..." she can feel him shaking his head. "And now... You could have married any lord that you wished."
"Perhaps Sansa Stark could have, but Alayne Stone chose you." she tells him, and tucks her head into his neck.
"I swear I will keep you happy, I swear it by whatever gods there are." his voice is thick with a type of grief she thinks she recognises.
They only have each other now.
**
There are times when they lie together that he calls her Sansa, and she feels a type of loss for what she once was.
He has always hated pretense, hates lying even despite the necessity and so he calls her by his own name for her most often, Little Bird coming easily to his lips.
In the end it is the truest name she ever had. She is the little bird who managed to find its wings and fly away.
Alayne Stone has the life that she chose, her very own happy ending.
Sansa Stark is never heard of in Westeros again.
So this piece was inspired by a crack!idea that came about from GRRM’s statement on whether Sandor and Sansa would meet again:
"Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone."
As well as a quote from Jaime Lannister which on how if Sansa is smart she’ll forget she’s a Stark and marry a blacksmith or an innkeep (can't find that exact one at the moment sorry!).
So here goes:
Petyr Baelish's bastard daughter Alayne Stone elopes from the Vale of Arryn with an unknown sellsword, and nobody cares to look for her.
It is the beginning of Spring after all, a time for elopements. Just one month prior, Lord Baelish's sworn sword Lothor Brune had eloped with Mya Stone, leaving his lord with no notice at all.
Perhaps she was inspired by the romance of it all, some of the Vale's residents shrug. Perhaps he was an old lover of hers from her time at the motherhouse, others theorise.
In the end, Alayne Stone is only a bastard girl and if she has found some man to give her his name then so be it.
Lord Baelish had been the only one to care about it, demanding that guards be sent out immediately after the girl and her lover to bring them back, an unjustified reaction in the eyes of many.
Then a note in Alayne's hand is found, accusing her father of slowly poisoning young Robert Arryn, and suddenly Petyr Baelish had more pressing matters to attend to. The note states that when her father had finally seen her, he had noticed her resemblance to the missing Northern Princess, Sansa Stark, and concocted a scheme to gain the North through her. Poor Alayne’s conscience would not allow her to participate in such a terrible lie, and so she is leaving.
Petyr Baelish is judged guilty and put to death. Nobody pays attention to his half mad ramblings about betrayal and Sansa Stark and Cat, Cat…
And so Alayne Stone remains unaccounted for, eloped with her lover, and nobody cares to look for her.
**
"I could take you North," he had said when he came for her, "Take you home to Winterfell, help you reclaim it. It could be yours."
"And you?" She had asked.
A question that could be taken in more than one way.
"I would fight for you, guard you, keep you safe."
She thinks on it, it is not enough.
"Stand by, while they marry me to some lord and give my birthright to him instead?"
"That's the way of the world, little bird, and I know my place in it."
Sansa Stark had once known her place in the world, but now she finds that things are less certain than they once were, her destiny is hers for the choosing for the first time in her life.
She is silent, and he sees her look down at her hands. His fate rests in those hands.
"I do not wish to reclaim my birthright, I do not want to go back North. I am a bastard now," she tells him finally, "And the world does not work the same way for me anymore. Let Jon have Winterfell, or Arya if she ever comes back, just let it be anyone but me. Let Sansa be forgotten and let Alayne live. Take me to a heart tree and put your cloak around my shoulders and give me your name instead. Take me somewhere far away, anywhere other than North."
"And whoever fucking said..."
She fixes him with a look, if he's come for her after all these years then it does not need to be said.
"You don't know what you're giving up, this is madness." he shakes his head in disbelief.
"I do know." she counters. "I also know what I will gain."
She is tired, so very tired. Tired of intrigues and tired of lies, tired of game of power where she is a prize to be won at the end. The North will never truly be hers, she will only ever be a sidenote, somebody else's stepping stone on the way to power.
"You're still married to the Imp." he continues, waiting for her to challenge it even as she watches the birth of a strange emotion within his eyes.
"Tyrion can live or die as he pleases, and I doubt he is concerned of what becomes of me." her voice is determined then. "Sansa Stark married Tyrion Lannister, Alayne Stone is unwed and can marry where she pleases and nobody could care less."
He kisses her there, in the darkness by the side of the road on the way to nowhere really, and it is not the way she had imagined it to be. The corner of his mouth is awkward where it was burned and he kisses her desperately and hard but his lips are soft and not so cruel as she had thought they would be.
In the end, it is the truest lie that she has ever known.
**
He marries her in front of a heart tree three days later, draping an olive green cloak around her shoulders.
It does not matter that it is not in his house colours. It does not matter that the cloak she sheds to receive his is black rather than grey and white.
The only witnesses to their marriage are the old gods and Sansa's sole ornamentation is an early spring flower tucked behind her ear, but it is a thousand times better than her first marriage.
But no, for Alayne this is the first marriage, she reminds herself.
The leaves of the heart tree rustle and she almost feels that she can hear her voice being called.
"I will be happy." she tells the tree, "I will have a long life, a happy life and though I take another name, though I leave my House behind, I will not forget. I will never forget."
Never.
He takes her to the nearest inn, and the room is small, and the mattress lumpy but it is still a thousand times better than the bedding that a girl once known as Sansa Stark had known.
He tries to be gentle with her, to ensure that she might have her pleasure as well, but he has been dying for the touch of her for years and she, while eager, is as nervous as she is excited. They fumble clumsily, desperately clinging, lips meeting when not upon each others bodies.
It hurts desperately, so badly that she needs to resist the urge to cry out, but it is a good pain, and she breathes through it. Then it is done, and she is relieved that it was not so frightening as she feared.
He holds her tightly afterwards, clutches her, and she thinks she can feel a wetness upon her hair where his cheek rests.
" I didn't know, I thought..." she can feel him shaking his head. "And now... You could have married any lord that you wished."
"Perhaps Sansa Stark could have, but Alayne Stone chose you." she tells him, and tucks her head into his neck.
"I swear I will keep you happy, I swear it by whatever gods there are." his voice is thick with a type of grief she thinks she recognises.
They only have each other now.
**
There are times when they lie together that he calls her Sansa, and she feels a type of loss for what she once was.
He has always hated pretense, hates lying even despite the necessity and so he calls her by his own name for her most often, Little Bird coming easily to his lips.
In the end it is the truest name she ever had. She is the little bird who managed to find its wings and fly away.
Alayne Stone has the life that she chose, her very own happy ending.
Sansa Stark is never heard of in Westeros again.