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[Wait.]

What did you tell her?

[ That's not a reassuring question, Jon. ] Nothing you would not readily tell a stranger yourself.

[ Lord Commander being his title, of course. ]

[His face says I'm so fucked.]

That's not an answer, Sansa.

[ And now she's gone back to looking guilty again. ]

I said— I asked her business with the Lord Commander. I thought it only jest when she said she knew none.

She thinks I turned cloak, I was ranging with her band.

[She'll kill me.]

Edited 2012-08-22 03:28 (UTC)

[ This thought seems to cross Alayne's mind as well, if her expression is any indication. ]

She was your— [ A pause. ] —your friend?

My...friend?

[Watchootalkin'about, Sansa?]

She asked if I was your— intended.

[ Does that sound like a friendzoned question to you, Jon? ]

[SHIIIIIIIIIIT.

It shows on his face]

She's dead. That's what she is. She is a dead woman who came here from before she died.

[ Like Robb, Alayne thinks. Her expression grows grim but soft in that grimness. ]

What does a dead wildling woman mean to a brother of the Wall, Jon?

What does Petyr Baelish mean to a girl of the Vale, Alayne?

[Don't. Ask.]

[ She presses her lips together. Is it bravery or madness that would make her answer? ]

He gave me life. What did she give you?

Nothing I will discuss. And nothing you will discuss with anyone.

[Stonewalled.]

[ Alayne frowns but only briefly. Then she tips her chin even though she feels not proud. ]

Am I forbidden to speak to her as well?

I will not say who you may or may not speak to, but consider that you are not the only one with secrets, Alayne Stone.

My name— [ —is Sansa Stark? Is that the supposed truth Alayne wishes to tell?

Instead, she presses her lips together in frustration. ] I would have kept your secrets gladly, had I known there were any to keep.

They are my secrets. My own.

[He's never had anything else, nothing else he could call his but this.]

[ Alayne Stone was born out of secrets. She knows nothing else but secrets and lies. She does not think Jon is suited to such things. But she also knows trying to pry the secrets from a stubborn man was as good as building a wall before him. ]

You should tell that to your wildling, then. She does not seem to share your opinion.

She is not mine. She is her own.

Tell Ygritte, then. [ Alayne's tone is not rude, but clipped. Held at a distance. ] Whomever she may be.

I will have to, now.

Then I shall leave you to it. [ Alayne dips her head. Bows as is excepted. (A lady's armor is her courtesy.) ]

[ARGH.

ARGH]

I do not like to argue with you.

[ She could be unkind. She could snap like a wolf. (If I had a bold tongue like Arya, would you favor me better, Jon?)

Alayne doesn't. ]

And yet we do.

[Jon is too dark, too brooding. Mentioning Arya would only make this worse.]

And yet.

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