So this is happening.

Disney princess storylines taking place in Westeros.

It's not a crack-fic, actually...almost sort of canon-compliant? I don't know what has gotten into me.

D: Not mine.

Beauty and the Beast

"Come into the light..."

-Belle

She had never been to this part of the Keep before, and hadn't ever thought she might have reason to. Hardly anyone had...or at least, anyone who ever returned, she thought with a shudder. She was deep down in the belly of the castle, where the air was cold and stale, with a sense of ill-boding held carried within its smothering weight. It was so very dark down here, a kind of blackness that seemed almost thick and tangible against her fingertips as she reached out to grope blindly in front of her face. Her own meager candle had sputtered out some time ago, leaving her completely at the mercy of whatever the depths might hold, and she had traced her way slowly with one hand on the cold stone wall, counting every step as she had spiraled down what had seemed an endless staircase into the inky abyss.

It was forbidden to come here, where long-standing tales spoke of enchantments and curses and horrors unfit for the light of day, and she had never dared to question their validity.

Until now.

She hadn't wanted to come, but she didn't see how there was any other choice. She carried her fear along with her underneath her cloak, and it grew heavier around her heart with every step which would bring her closer to what she both feared and hoped might lie in wait for her. There was a feeble glow some distance away, a flickering light casting eerie shadows around a corner where she knew her destination must be. He would be there, but her legs shook at the thought of who might be waiting with him.

Footsteps as faint as a heartbeat on the cobblestone, she pressed her back against the corridor and peered into what little light the single candled mounted on a sconce provided. The sigh of relief she could not stop herself from uttering was far too loud, but she heard it not. Her mind was fixed on nothing but the sight of the man before her, shackled to the wall and filthy, but still her heart soared at the sight of him. Flying forward towards the unguarded cell without a second thought, she thrust her hands through the barred door which separated him from her.

"Father!"

Slowly, the man who sat huddled on the dirty ground lifted his head from where it lolled on his chest as though in a daze, blinking into the meager light which illuminated his daughter's face several times. "Sansa?"

"Oh yes, Father it's me! I've come to help you-"

"Sansa, what are you doing here? You must go! It isn't safe, he'll catch you, go, now!"

"No! I won't leave you!"

"Well, well, well..."

The voice was like ice down her spine, and terror dawned on the face which she had always known to be lined with strength and wisdom. Her heart gave a violent lurch and she held on tightly to the metal bars for fear her knees would buckle from beneath her. Drawing upon the fierce love she felt for the captive, she turned to face the intruder with every ounce of poise she possessed, but it vanished in a moment when she once more laid eyes on him.

If possible, his snarl twisted into something more vicious when the gasp she could not contain fell from her lips and shattered on the cold ground around them. She thought she was past fearing the sight of him, but here, with the good side of his face hidden by darkness and the candlelight undulating over his scars with terrible intensity, he looked even more a beast than the Hound she knew him to be. His enormous bulk cast a hulking shadow, and she was caught in it, frozen when he spoke once more.

"I told you to stay out of here, Little Bird."

"Please...please, ser, my father, you must let him go!"

"Must I?" His eyes burned dangerously bright in the dim lighting, and she instantly regretted her choice of words. She could smell the wine on him as he moved closer to where she stood pressed against the bars, shielding her father as best she could with her body, and she knew there would be no one to come to her aid should she scream. "I don't think you are in any position to be telling me what to do, girl."

"Let the girl be, Clegane, she has nothing to do with this!

"Father stop! I beg of you ser, let my father go...I'll do anything!"

"Anything?"

"Sansa, stop this at once! Go back to your chambers, go-"

"The girl has spoken." He said in a voice that was more of a sneer, leaning over her and grasping her tightly around the wrist to wrench her forcibly away from the door she so naively thought she might have guarded. The key clanked against the heavy lock, and her father struggled in his shackles as the Hound held him down and had them loosed in moments. The elder man was weakened by his time confined though, and no match for the man who yanked him from the cell with a hand around his neck. She thought to run to him, to wrap her arms around him as she had when she was still a child, but she found she did not have a chance before she was shoved roughly to the floor in his place and the door slammed shut behind her.

"What-"

"LET HER GO!" Her father screamed in a voice unlike any she had ever heard him use, mad with fear, and anger, and yet the Hound only laughed his bitter laugh in return.

"You heard her, anything. She's mine now, Stark, and you...the Stranger can take you."

She rushed to the door, clinging to the bars as she heard the lock click back in place. "Don't hurt him, please, please don't! You have me now, I'll stay with you, for true I will, just don't hurt him!"

"Aye, that you will. Goodnight, Little Bird."

The flame was extinguished then, and her world was thrown into darkness once more.

Honestly, I don't really see Sansa being made of the same stuff as Belle was in this situation. I would say she is more of an Ariel (selfish and flighty) but this scene just fit too well, and I couldn't pass it up.

What princesses would you like to see in Westeros?