A/N: I don't own A.S.o.I.a.F. If I did, I would be happy. Very much so.


Petyr Baelish was never a 'happy' man, really. He was happy around Cat, but that was an age ago.

But her daughter… Sansa was a beauty. So naïve, so innocent. Thinking life was a song, and that she was the beautiful maiden who was saved from a beast. Of course, he didn't know if the beast was himself, but he oft wondered.

He felt terrible for her, having to take care of 'Lord' Robert. But he saved her, and that was the price of her freedom. And he couldn't be bothered, honestly.

But he would do things for her, in exchange for a kiss. Of course he knew it was rather wrong, but what do you do against love?

Love always wins.


Sansa Stark used to be a happy girl. But not anymore. When she was Sansa Stark of Winterfell, she was happy. When she was Sansa Stark of the King's Landing, she was happy for a while.

Then Joff turned bad, and everything was a mess, and she had to marry the Imp.

She wasn't happy then.

But Sansa Stark's time ended.

She died, leaving only bitterness in her wake.


Alayne Stone, on the other hand, was kind of happy.

She was scared, though. Scared by her 'father', by the boy she had to take care of, by the ghost of Lysa Arryn that she knew was around.

Scared of the game she must play.

Littlefinger had tried to explain the rules. Alayne thought she understood.

And it was time to become a player.

She would become a player even if it took kissing Petyr as many times as she could bare, slaughtering Lord Robert in his sleep, even killing her own sister.

Anything.

To be a player was freedom, strength, power, everything.

And to see the look on Cersei's face as her head rolled down the steps of Baelor's Sept?

Priceless.

Alayne Stone was a strong girl.

More than Sansa Stark would ever know.


A/N: I might continue this, and I might not. Please review!