asgardeventide | o1 ♔ voice

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o1 ♔ voice

( Alayne fiddles with the bracelet around her wrist for a moment before speaking - she's hesitant about addressing the whole of a city that she cannot see. After all, it's dangerous to be Sansa Stark these days, now that she's a traitor accused of regicide. But amongst the midst of all these voices, it's unlikely that hers will be recognized ( or so she thinks, as she does not know details of the network yet ). She is Alayne now, not Sansa. They will not know her. Lies and arbor gold, Alayne thinks. No one takes notice of a bastard girl. )

Gods of Asgard, I wanted to thank you for choosing me for such an important task. This is an honour that I did not expect. But I must think of my lord father - he worries so, and I wouldn't want him to fret. I'm only a young girl - surely someone more gallant should be chosen for a deed like this.

If it please you, I would ask that you send me back to him.

( but alayne doesn't expect much: no one gets what they want without a price. all she can do is ask. )

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We're meant to be their bannermen, and fight on their behalf.

( the thought scares her, but she doesn't let it show. or at least, she tries not to. tries not to think about the fact that she's alone in this new world, alone and on the brink of war and just as lost as she had been in king's landing. not as foolish, but still as powerless - gifted now with a blessing that she doesn't know how to use. )

But I have no banners of my own to bear.

( it's our love that they want, alayne realizes. men can be forced to do all sorts of things; but having them willing to do so is another thing altogether. these gifts of powers, these supposed freedoms - she thinks she understands how this game is played. )

And do you fight for the realm, my lady?

We are no one's bannerman, my lady. People may say you are meant to do what they wish but that does not make you have any less of a desire to do it. Tend to yourself first, before seeking to please these 'gods'.

[ she sounds so small. sad and frightened. she won't deny it bothers her--reminds her of something. of herself once, helpless and sad. dany is helpless too. her tone softens again ]

I would meet with you, to help you. I imagine not much has been explained and I would give what answers I could.

Edited 2012-10-20 05:50 (UTC)

Yes. I was taught by my father, years ago.

( taught by sansa's father sometimes, but mostly under the watchful eyes of septa mordane, sitting side by side with arya in the halls of winterfell. it was so long ago that she could scarcely remember it by now, blurred until only a feeling remained: a feeling of being happy. of knowing that everything was right in the world.

sansa's father was a noble man, she knows. alayne's is a crafter of lies, and only one of them is still living. it is not that she has turned her back on his memory, only that she's realized what eddard stark would not accept: to survive, one has to play the game. even if she never asked to play.

clean hands, alayne. always keep your hands clean, petyr had said.

she wonders if robb will hate her for this new deception. )

Not gossip, my lord. Never gossip.

( petyr baelish knew perhaps even before joffrey crowed it to the entire ends of westeros. alayne does not understand how he could be alive, how he could not remember. perhaps it was all lies. perhaps it was all an elaborate tale - oh, she wants to believe it. her voice drops to a whisper. )

I'm sure... ( she pauses, hesitates, not wanting to anger him and for a moment, alayne sounds like sansa again. a child in winterfell. ) you had a very good reason.

( it's benediction, in a way. )

( the dark dye in her hair is starting to fade. perhaps not so noticeably yet, but alayne has reapplied it enough to know the signs. it was expensive, petyr had said. shipped all the way from tyrosh to complete her transformation. alayne is older now, far older since the last time arya saw her on the hill where their father was executed. it feels like an age has passed, since then.

her heart flutters in her chest and for once, alayne doesn't know what to do. she wonders if this is a good idea, if she should attempt to conceal herself from arya and robb instead. if she wants to do so. but they know - they know her voice, and nothing else. nothing about the red wedding, as the lannisters had told her it was called.

she wishes for a moment that petyr was here, because of how much she had come to rely on him for guidance. but arya is here faster than she can truly contemplate - far too fast, really. alayne fidgets with her dress, her posture, suddenly nervous about the whole ordeal. she should speak up, but finds that there are no words that come to mind. )

The others have told me as much.

( is that a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice? it's there, just the tiniest flicker of it, aimed at the futility of her situation. but it isn't his fault she's here, and so alayne quickly modulates her voice into something lighter, kinder.

she shouldn't slip up so much. )

How long has your stay here been, ser?

And do you like it here?

( alayne has met a lot of embittered people, and a lot of frustrated ones. she's possibly the only person to speak of this place with something other than negativity. )

I am Alayne Stone.

( the last name means nothing to someone from outside westeros, but she gives it anyway. )

( once, sansa had believed everything she was told - especially by the queen. why would she lie to her? good, noble, beautiful people didn't speak falsehoods. it had been disgustingly naive, creating a sense of burning shame upon recollection of it.

now, alayne questions everything she's told and sees the strings of manipulation through the lies. it's better this way. she's still a pawn, but now at least, she's aware of it. )

It seems to me that your pessimism has kept you alive and well, ser. There is no need for apologies.

And loyalty, to a cause they consider to be just. Gallant souls are easier to win to their cause.

It's a comforting thought. I will keep the hope that I might one day see my lord father again. Thank you.

Surely they must, if I continue to pray.

( they will not. she knows this, and won't waste any more of her breath entreating them, but alayne keeps thoughts like those to herself. )

There is a word there. 'Video'. You ought to use that if you wish to show your face. There are few of us who had shared the same sky. Do not mark yourself as stranger, Lady Stone.

[ robb cannot hate her, no matter how many lies pass between her lips. to forgive kin is something that is regarded as a stark value, to be merciful. robb thinks about that time very often - when the songs were sweeter and how he feels like it will never come to pass again.

robb refuses to play. same as his father, it's why the end up in the same fate. you sacrifice honour when you play, you sacrifice truth and robb would rather be a dead man with it than an alive one without. but robb is a boy who thinks he's made of steel. they say the young wolf can never be killed, and he believes them. cocky because he's winning. and when he comes back, when walder frey takes a blade to his head he will search this moment and wonder - how could he have been so wrong.

he does not face the camera then.

sometimes love was not worth a kingdom. ]

Your words are kind.

Please don't call me sir. I'm not that old, I think.

But I've been here for a short while though. A little over a couple months, I think.

( he looks so pained, alayne thinks. he looked so much older than the last time she saw him - like a man, when robb had sometimes been a boy. when he had sometimes thrown snow in her hair and laughed along with the rest of them. he was a king now, and she must not forget that - what words of comfort could she offer him? nothing at all. robb looks away, and alayne hates herself then for bringing it up, for lacking the tact to keep from hurting him.

it's with a shaking hand that she reaches towards the screen and presses the large, blinking button that says video. she is older now too, a woman flowered with dark hair instead of the tully red, and sometimes alayne looks into the mirror and thinks that she hardly recognizes sansa stark at all. but wolves recognize their own, they always do.

she wonders what he will say. she fidgets with her hair, her gown, nervousness causing her heart to leap into her throat. )

Kind because they are the truth. You are an honorable king - it is known, even in the Vale.

It's probably better to settle down and see if anyone you know is here. The gods won't send you back home unless they want to.

If your father isn't in the city already, he won't notice that you're gone either. There won't be time to.

Eheheheheheheh good luck making them honor that. They don't give a damn what you think, princethh.

[It's not exactly mocking and it's not exactly bitter and it's not exactly kind or unsympathetic either but whoops that is definitely an alien.]

Yes, well, survival is not always the most reputable existence.

[Erik can't read her body language through just her voice, but he can sense there is something more under the surface. Something that hold his attention. Curiosity, maybe.]

( are those-- horns? cue alayne quietly freaking out about it, trying to decide whether to cut the feed out of fear or -- but that would be discourteous. it would be downright rude.

but he scares the crap out of her. sorry sollux, they don't have homestucks in westeros :(. )

I... ( she hesitates, tries to keep her voice from wavering. sansa would have been cowed, perhaps. alayne is different, now. ) you...you have me mistaken, ser. I'm no princess.

( he will notice, she thinks. because he needs me. perhaps not as much as she relied on him, but petyr baelish had plans for her, plans that would ultimately benefit him as well. surely he would notice, and lord robert as well. but it's rude to contradict people. )

My apologies, I...I don't understand your meaning.

Time--well, it's complicated. Once this whole thing's over, we're meant to be sent back to the exact moment we were taken from. It doesn't matter how long you spend in the city.

( alayne laughs. it's a warm laugh, utterly feminine in its sound, and part of the mask alayne has crafted. of the bastard-brave young woman who speaks boldly and easily. some of it stems from a well of bitterness, a recognition of the truth - to survive, one has to sacrifice nobility. her father and her brother had refused. )

Perhaps not. But a reputation can only be built if one is alive to do so.

( she must be careful, alayne knows this. even in a strange land, her secrets need to be kept under guard. one slip could mean her head. but if she's being honest, she misses the company of other women - myranda royce's gossip was of the highest calibre, but her ribald comments had left alayne feeling uneasy.

seeking someone from a common land would give some comfort. )

I am in the house of freya, that's what they called it. And you are very kind.

I would for my realm but not for this.

[ still, it is not entirely true. She pauses to think of it. Of Arthur and Merlin and her friends. After a moment, she adds: ]

Here I would fight for those I love. And I would fight both the enemies of the city and the Gods if those shall pose a threat to them.

Jack? I don't understand.

Is it possible --

( it's important, it's so important - she wants to ask about robb and why he doesn't remember, why he's here when she had heard that he was dead. if the gods had done this, was it a blessing or a curse? would they send him back only to be slaughtered? or was it a lie, fed to her by the lannisters? it couldn't be. everyone knew it was true. they'd said that the young wolf couldn't die, like beric dondarrion, but they were wrong.

the words are too heavy, it takes a moment for alayne to recollect her thoughts. )

-- to have someone called from....before the recollection of an event?

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