Aenys smiled at the young girl; she ran into very few most days, rather, few who she ever wanted to speak with for fear that they would turn her in to the Lannisters, or worse. But this one seemed to not know her name; and if she did, she did well in hiding it.
“Tell me, little one - why are you out so late?”
The hidden auburn was only a few feet from the Bloody Gate. Surely no harm would come to her if she indulged in such a conversation of normalcy. Brightened hues move from the woman and toward the break of dawn.
"I cannot sleep, my lady.“
Lie.
She smiled at the young girl for a fleeting moment. “Alayne; a pretty name, my lady. I am Aenys, of House Targaryen.”
Targaryen.
Sansa had heard stories of the Targaryens long ago. However, Alayne had no knowledge of it. She was not a highborn daughter, but a bastard. To keep her cover, she must shield the upcoming memories that would flood into her temples.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Aenys.“
“And who may you be, little one?”
Little one.
A pet name she hadn’t been called since her father’s death. No, not her father; he wasn’t her father anymore. She was Alayne Stone. A bastard daughter to Petyr Baelish; Protector of the Vale.
“Alayne. And you, my lady?”
