First non-Jaime or Joanna chapter, so let me know what you think!

Sansa was in a daze. She had been ever since Lord Petyr had told her his intentions, about this man Harry she had never met and yet would become her husband if everything went according to his plan. He planned to give her the Eyrie and then to use the Eyrie to gain back Winterfell.

"Your sister's bannermen will come running, as soon as they hear. Run from the bastard queen to the true-born one. My sweet Sansa, you will become Queen of the North, the Trident, and soon, the Vale. How could your sister even compare?"

Joanna could compare though, and that was what Lord Petyr wasn't seeing.

When Sansa had been little, Joanna was her idol. As soon as Sansa was able to walk, she would follow Joanna everywhere. Even when Sansa had grown up and learned exactly why her mother had treated Joanna differently than the rest of her siblings, she could not find it in herself to be cold and distant with her big sister. Besides, a lady should be kind to everyone, Sansa would tell herself, no matter what their social standing was.

When Sansa was Alyane Stone, she remembered Joanna and thought how funny it was that Joanna was the Queen that Sansa had always thought she'd be, and Sansa was the bastard.

But now she was Sansa Stark again and couldn't believe how close she had come to letting it slip away from her. Now all Sansa wanted to do was find her sister and kneel, find her queen and never let her go.

"Your sister's a bastard, and nothing more. She was born to Ned Stark, a fool who couldn't see what a woman your mother was until it was too late and that's why he never named hers. I've been looking into who she might have been, but I can't seem to find a thing." Sansa had been surprised by Lord Petyr's bitter confession to her, but perhaps he thought she was Alayne in this moment and not Sansa.

Sansa made a solemn vow to never become Alayne again. She would die her hair brown and call Lord Petyr 'Father', but she would remember who she was so that way she would be able to greet her sister with a smile.

Sansa sighed as she watched the cooks and servants get ready for the welcoming feast. Sweetrobin was asleep upstairs so that hopefully he could make it through the feast without to many tantrums and without him, she didn't know what to do.

Mya Stone and Myranda Royce had gone off to take care of things that they needed neither Sansa nor Alayne for, and she was bored. She remembered when she could be Sansa Stark, she and Joanna would always watch Mother organize the feast and sometimes try to help. Well, Sansa would. Mother was always uncomfortable when Joanna would try to help and so eventually, Joanna had stopped trying.

Sansa remembered when she was little she used to wonder why Arya couldn't be the bastard and Joanna her true-born sister. Arya had hardly ever acted like her sister half the time and Joanna was so much more lady-like than Arya anyway.

Now Sansa was the bastard.

Sansa wondered if she could send a raven to Joanna, but she had no idea where Joanna's base was and besides, it would almost certainly get back to Lord Petyr what she had done and then he would move her, somewhere that Joanna wouldn't be able to get too.

"Alayne." It was Lord Petyr's voice and Sansa tried to fake innocence as best she could. Tried to fake Alayne as best she could. Sansa prayed that her mother and father and Robb would forgive her for forsaking them right now, but right now she had to be Alayne. She knew that she could only become Sansa again when she finally saw Joanna again.

When she finally saw the only sibling she still had left again.

"Alayne," Lord Petyr said again and Sansa turned around. "What is it, Father?"

He smiled and it felt wrong. It felt dirty. "Alayne, my dear, I need you to wake up Sweetrobin. He needs to get ready for the feast."

Sansa nodded. She would do anything to get away from Lord Petyr know. She had thought that he was helping her, but if he wanted to help her he would just simply give her to Joanna, not try to take Joanna's crown.

If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.

Joanna didn't need to make them love her though. Sansa remembered when she was little and Joanna would try and teach her how to dance. Joanna had always loved dancing and she had always been the best dancer that Sansa had seen, though admittedly she had never really see any good dancers in the north.

She was still better than anyone Sansa had seen in the south.

Quickly, Sansa walked away from Lord Petyr and went to go wake Sweetrobin.

Fifteen minutes later, Sansa felt like screaming until there was nothing left inside of her. Sweetrobin was yelling, demanding that they let him go back to sleep because he didn't want to go to the feast. Sansa didn't want to go to the feast, she didn't want to put on a mummer's farce as everyone looked at her and waited for her to make one wrong, but she had to because she knew her duty.

Be Alayne until you can be Sansa. Be Alayne until you can be Sansa with Joanna.

"Sweetrobin," Sansa tried to appeal. "You need to get dressed so all the ladies will be able to see how handsome you are."

He shook his head and Sansa resisted the urge to put him over her knee. Her parent's had almost never physically punished their children, but when they did, it burned onto the brain of every Stark child as a warning.

Sansa wondered how it might go if she did that to Sweetrobin, but as nice as the idea seemed, there was no way she could do it. Lord Petyr wouldn't let anything to bad happen to her, but there would surely be some form of consequence for what she did. Sansa would simply have to sustain herself on dreams.

"Sweetrobin, you need to," Sansa pleaded.

Sweetrobin looked at her. "I don't want to."

Sansa sighed. "You need to. You don't have to stay long at the feast, you just need to stay long enough for everyone to see you and what a good lord you are. Can you at least do that? Please? For me?"

Sweetrobin looked at her a moment. "Fine," he said finally and grumpily. "But only for you."

Sansa couldn't help the smile that broke across her face. "Oh, thank you, my Lord. You truly know how to take care of a lady." Sweetrobin look smug at that. She remembered what Queen Cersei said about a woman's only weapons were not simply sword and steel, or something thereabouts that, and though Sansa was loathe to take advice from that woman, she had to admit the Queen had a point. It was amazing what someone could accomplish with kind words and a smile.

Soon enough, Sweetrobin was dressed and ready to attend the feast, and thus Sansa ran to her room to quickly get ready. She brushed her hair and opened up her closet to pick out a dress.

A variety stood out in front of her. They were all beautiful, in different and bright colors, but Sansa's attentions were drawn to a dress in the back. A simply dark gray dress, with white thread embroider around the edges of the sleeves. It wasn't as eye-catching as the others, but right now, it was the only one she wanted to wear.

Sansa changed and looked into the mirror. The dye was still in it, but Sansa thought she saw some of it fading. She would have to re-dye it soon, but she took comfort in the slight hints of auburn in it. She brushed her hair slowly, taking comfort in the feel of the brush in it. Tears pricked in her eyes as she remembered how her mother used to brush her hair every night she could, as she remembered how she and Joanna would braid flowers in each other's hair and when they could, Arya's. They each had their own flower, Sansa remembered. Joanna was winter roses, Sansa was daisies, and Arya was violets.

There had been a few times they had given Mother a flower crown of daisies and violets, but never one with roses in it and they never talked about why.

Sansa put down the brush as she felt a lump grow in her throat. She missed her family. She missed her mother and her brothers, all dead. She missed her sisters though she had no idea where either of them where. She missed her father, not Lord Petyr, but her real one, her true one. The one who's smiles didn't make her uncomfortable, who always had time for her, the one who was willing to give up everything for her.

The one who died thinking she didn't care about him.

Sansa looked into the mirror. She looked so much like she remembered her mother, but Sansa saw little things of her father in her when searched. She had his nose and her eyes were the same shapes as his. "I'll try to find Joanna," she whispered. "I'll try to make you proud, though I know it's far too late."