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Sigrid tucked a piece of hair back inside the twist where it belonged, then hoisted her laundry basket back up onto her hip and rapped on the door three times. “M’lady, it’s Sigrid, with the laundry. Won’t be a minute.”
“Come in,” came the muffled voice.
The door was heavy, and stuck, and it took her entire weight to dislodge it. “Oof!” she huffed as cheerfully as she could manage. “That’s a sticky thing! I’ll have someone come tend to that right away.”
Sigrid opened the wardrobe and began to put away the clothes. When she’d come to the Vale to serve Lord Baelish and his household, it had been really quite hard to leave her family behind. Her father had been utterly against it, but when Sigrid told him what she’d be paid, he knew she couldn’t refuse. It was a nice job, actually. They’d given her duties mainly in the kitchens, and waiting on Lord Baelish’s bastard, Alayne.
“No, don’t. I quite like having that extra bit of warning. Now no one can ever sneak up on me!”
Alayne Stone’s beaming face peeked out from between two of her bed’s curtains. Sigrid had really felt like she’d gotten to know Alayne over the past few months. She was sweet, funny, if sometimes too quiet, and pretty. Often Sigrid got the sense that Alayne had seen much more than someone of her years really ought to, but she never spoke of it. She was clever, often taking time in the privacy of her quarters to explain to Sigrid exactly why her father had done this, or said that, or plotting her own maneuvers aloud while Sigrid styled her hair. Sigrid had watched her hold her own with the nobles that were staying in the Vale, cutting to the quick or dancing around the subject as the matter called for it. Alayne was a master of politics already.
Not only that, but she was kind and caring; she always knew what to do for Lord Robin, which was more than Sigrid could say for anyone else. The other servants who worked in the castle had no patience for his tantrums or his shaking fits, but Alayne weathered them all with a smile and a song.
Sigrid always thought it was rather sad there didn’t seem to be anyone who could care for Alayne, though, so she’d taken to it. Despite Alayne’s bastard status, Lord Baelish was rich enough, or powerful enough (or good enough at making people believe that he was), that no one thought it too far out of place for Sigrid to spend so much time waiting on the Stone girl. And Sigrid took every chance she could get, for Alayne treated her better than any job in Gulltown ever had. Even though she was the daughter of a Lord, she often asked Sigrid to accompany her on walks through the Eyrie, or dine with her on those nights she had supper to herself. It sometimes felt like Sigrid was more of a proper Lady-in-Waiting than a servant imported from the coast.
She was smitten.
“It’s a lovely day,” Alayne began, rising out of bed to look out the window.. “I’m glad we have such nice weather for the tournament.”
“Aye,” Sigrid answered, tucking the last bit of clothing into the wardrobe. “Good luck indeed. Have you decided how you will wear your hair today?”
“No,” Alayne giggled to herself. “I can’t decide for the life of me. Why don’t you just figure it out? Come, sit next to me.”
This was one of Sigrid’s favorite duties; she wondered if Alayne knew. She picked up the brush and a handful of hair pins off the vanity and climbed onto the bed, then sat cross-legged behind Alayne and started to pull long, slow strokes through the dark strands. “I suppose we ought to do something nice,” Sigrid mused. “You’ll be expected to spend time with all those eligible young men, hm?”
“Some young,” Alayne admitted, a sly edge to her tone. “Some not so young.” They both laughed and she added softly, “Truth be told I’d rather spend the time with you.”
Sigrid was glad she sat out of view as her ears burned. She coughed, licked her lips, bought herself some time. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
“It isn’t kind to say if it’s true--”
“Hold, please.”
Alayne took the section of hair from Sigrid and added, “I mean it. Those men care for nothing but to hear themselves talk. You listen. You’re the dearest friend I’ve had since-- well. Since a lifetime ago.”
Flecks of dust danced in the morning light filtering in through the window. Horses were neighing, bells were clanging, the Eyrie was waking up and Sigrid was completely at a loss for words. “Alayne, I…”
“Well anyway, maybe I’ll come down with some horrible headache partway through, and we can come back here to hide away.”
“That sounds like a wonderful plan,” Sigrid replied, pinning the first twist of hair in place. She took the section of hair back from Alayne and began to twist it as well. “Oh you have such pretty dark hair. My da always used to tease me that I was so fair, like my ma, because he’s got dark hair too.”
Alayne’s breath hitched as if she meant to say something and thought the better of it. Then she started again, “You don’t talk about them much, your family. What are they like?”
Sigrid shrugged. “Where does one begin? Well, once upon a time the Bowmans held the fast out by Gulltown. They were well liked, until the Targaryens brought their dragons and burned half the place up. Everyone blamed Girion Bowman for not taking the dragons down, so it wasn’t long before House Grafton took over. They lost everything, but stayed there anyway, and even now my da works a barge out of Gulltown. He stays mainly in the bay but sometimes he goes up to the Fingers and helps things make their way south. He works a lot.”
Over and over she turned Alayne’s hair, making sure the light would catch it just right. “ My ma died birthing my sister, Tilda. Now I’ve gone it’s just her and Bain at home-- he’s my brother. He has his hands full now trying to keep the house up and making sure Tilda doesn’t get into any trouble.”
“Is that a common occurrence?”
“More than you can imagine! She’s always running around playing at sword fights, or pushing bullies off the docks…” Sigrid stuck a few pins in her mouth and started to put the twist in place, so her speech was muffled when she said, “She’s more like to play the dashing knight than the damsel in distress, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I know. Reminds me of a girl I grew up with as well.” Alayne smiled. “One time she threw a nasty little boy’s sword in the river. Oh, how he howled! I was mortified. I fancied him, of course, and I couldn’t see how horrid he really was. But she saw right through him.”
Sigrid separated the remaining hair and began to braid loosely. “We’ve all been there.”
Alayne hummed noncommittally. When Sigrid was done, they both rolled over to lie next to one another on the bed. Sigrid loved when they did this, when she could feel the warmth of Alayne next to her, smell the perfume she dabbed behind her ears, hear her quiet breaths. Many a chilly afternoon they’d passed this way, gossiping, hiding from the breeze off the mountaintops. After several long moments, Alayne murmured, “Father says he’s going to find me a match. That it’s time for me to be betrothed.”
“Oh.” Sigrid wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t highborn, she had always figured eventually someone would come along and they’d just... be married. Her da would go spare if anyone had suggested he decide whom she’d marry.
“Whoever he is, he’ll take me away from here.”
“Probably.” The thought was not a pleasant one.
“I think I shall ask him to bring you with me.” Alayne rolled to the side and propped herself up on an elbow. “Would you like that?”
Sigrid thought for a long moment. “Perhaps. In truth it would be difficult, moving further from my family.” She rolled over to mirror Alayne. “It would be very hard indeed to choose between them and you.”
Alayne smiled at that, leaning ever so slightly closer. “If my husband is terrible, who else will comfort me but you?”
Returning a crooked smile of her own, Sigrid leaned forward as well, their noses now just a hair apart. “How kindly you regard me, m’lady.”
“How sweetly you care for me,” Alayne replied, her breath like honey. “I feel I could trust you with anything.”
“You can.” Sigrid’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she noticed Alayne’s eyes tracking the motion. They were so close, closer than they’d ever been before. All it would take was an inch, less even. A piece of hair fell loose across Alayne’s face and Sigrid gently tucked it back, then cupped her cheek and pushed that last little bit forward.
To Sigrid’s great surprise, Alayne kissed her back. She threw herself towards Sigrid eagerly, her hand gripping Sigrid’s waist, their knees knocking. Alayne kissed like she was starved for it, sloppily, like no one had ever kissed her before. Well, bastard though she was, Alayne was a proper lady. No one probably had.
So she slowed down and pulled away, despite the way her heart clenched at the little whine of disappointment from Alayne. “Ssh, it’s all right. I just want to show you…”
Sigrid lifted Alayne’s chin gently and kissed her again, just a simple press of lips for a long moment as they got used to the feeling. Slowly, slowly she added movement - a tilt of her head, a twitch of her lips - until they settled into a rhythm. Oh, she’d dreamed about this before, of their mouths against each other, drinking each other in, breathing as one. The little sounds of their lips moving apart and rejoining sent a tiny thrill through her each time.
Alayne clung to Sigrid’s sleeve, opening her mouth more each time they kissed until Sigrid finally got the nerve to slip her tongue along the seam where they met. She took every one of Sigrid’s offerings eagerly and eventually gave some of her own, reaching up to twist her fingers in her hair, feeling the softness of it, completely unknowing just how wild it made Sigrid,
Trying to calm herself, Sigrid stroked her thumb tenderly over Alayne’s cheek, and was rewarded with a whimper. She pulled back and grinned despite herself. “Um.”
Alayne giggled too. “I had a friend, once… She said something to me as we were walking. ‘So many of us get to try so little before we’re old and grey…’ I didn’t think much of it at the time. Now, I feel as if I’ve just understood a great deal more about her.” Her giggle turned to an outright guffaw. “I asked her if her mother taught her! Oh, she must have had quite a laugh about that later.”
Sigrid snorted. “Who was this friend?”
“I… Shouldn’t say.” Alayne’s smile dimmed somewhat.
“Come now, I promised you. You can trust me with anything. Who am I going to tell?” Sigrid winked at her. “You’ll make a girl jealous. Was she some fancy Southron princess?”
Alayne’s eyes widened and she pressed her lips firmly together.
“Ahah! She was! My, Alayne, but you are well-socialized.” She doodled curly patterns down Alayne’s arm. “Please?” she wheedled. “I promise I’ll never tell.”
Alayne hid her face in a pillow. “Mrrytll.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Oh, you,” Alayne grumbled. “Why can’t I lie to you? I’ve no problem with anyone else!” She huffed. “It was Margaery Tyrell.”
“Really?! Margaery Tyrell, a lady’s lady?” Sigrid chuckled. “I’ll be… And her first marriage to a man’s man! What are the odds of that?” She mused for a moment; no wonder Renly had had no heirs. “Whenever would you have gone to meet her, though? She’s only ever really been in Highgarden or King’s Landing. She’s the queen now. Or will be, soon as Tommen’s of age.”
“Sigrid…” Alayne sat up, arms still curled around the pillow, using it as a shield. Sigrid followed slowly, afraid to spook her. After a deep breath, she spoke again. “You must promise not to tell anyone. Ever. It’s a matter of life or death.”
“I promise,” Sigrid answered solemnly, though she struggled to keep her face under control. What secret could she possibly have that was so important?
“I spent a great deal of time with Margaery Tyrell when she took my place as Joffrey’s betrothed.” Alayne looked down. “I’m afraid--”
“Seven hells…” Sigrid whispered. “I knew you weren’t from Gulltown. It isn’t that big. You’re… You’ve gotta be…”
“My name is Sansa Stark.” She sounded as if it pained her to say it. “Heir to Winterfell.”
It probably did.
“Well your secret’s safe with me,” Sigrid answered more calmly than she felt. “Though I think it will give your husband quite a shock once he finds out.”
Sansa groaned. “I have had more husbands than I care to remember. First Joffrey - though of course that fell through when they killed my father - then the Imp, who’s run away, and now whatever Northman makes a good enough case to Littlefinger. Who’s next? That Dain out of the Iron Hills? They’ve sworn fealty to the Boltons!”
“It’s a good thing, then,” Sigrid ventured, “that I never got that door fixed.”
When a smile bloomed over Sansa’s face, Sigrid resolved then and there that her da could shove it if he ever tried to bring her home again. Oh she’d visit, of course, and keep sending money home in the meanwhile, but nothing was going to keep her from Sansa’s side.
“Do you think you can stand to go to the tournament now?” Sigrid asked. “Only, I spent all that time on your hair, you see--” She earned another shy smile from Sansa. “--And Lord Robin will love to have your company. Not to mention I hear some warriors have arrived from the Blue Mountains west of the Barrowlands. The House of Durin, I think they were called? All reports from the Bloody Gates say they’re quite strapping, and two of them still unwed.”
Sansa nodded, and went to choose a dress. Sigrid helped her into it, a lovely dark wool thing with long sleeves and a deep neckline, and they headed out. Before they got very far, though, Sansa reached out, covering Sigrid’s hand with hers to stop her opening the door.
“Remember. You can’t tell a soul.”
“Tell them what, Lady Alayne?” Sigrid asked brightly. “Why, we’re only falling tardy because I was late to work folding up your laundry. Nothing to worry about.” She hauled open the door and gestured for her to pass through first. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Sansa smiled back at her, just for a moment, touching her arm affectionately. Then Alayne Stone walked out the door and down the hall, disappearing around the corner on her way to the tournament, the Eyrie, and the rest of her life.