[For her part, Sansa isn't sure that guarding is the right word. He looks at her, sometimes, in ways that make her skin crawl, and it wasn't him who, in the end, guarded her when she had actually needed it, when Marillion came to her bed. Nor was he the one she entrusted herself to in King's Landing, not knowingly. Poor, dead Ser Dontos shivers in her memory, the way that the Blackwater had closed over him. Petyr Baelish, she suspects, guards only what is his, and no matter whether she may call him her lord father in public, she is not his.]
[In any case, he isn't here, so far as he can tell. Perhaps that shouldn't relieve her, but it does.]
[She looks up at Jon, her brother whose name was never Stark, and a small, sad smile tugs at her lips.]
They call me Alayne Stone, there.
[So you aren't the only bastard among us any more, she means. And, perhaps, in the space of that meaning, I'm sorry.]
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[For her part, Sansa isn't sure that guarding is the right word. He looks at her, sometimes, in ways that make her skin crawl, and it wasn't him who, in the end, guarded her when she had actually needed it, when Marillion came to her bed. Nor was he the one she entrusted herself to in King's Landing, not knowingly. Poor, dead Ser Dontos shivers in her memory, the way that the Blackwater had closed over him. Petyr Baelish, she suspects, guards only what is his, and no matter whether she may call him her lord father in public, she is not his.]
[In any case, he isn't here, so far as he can tell. Perhaps that shouldn't relieve her, but it does.]
[She looks up at Jon, her brother whose name was never Stark, and a small, sad smile tugs at her lips.]
They call me Alayne Stone, there.
[So you aren't the only bastard among us any more, she means. And, perhaps, in the space of that meaning, I'm sorry.]