Work Text:
The last time she stood here, a woman was pushed to her death by the man she loved. This time around, a man was to be pushed to his death by a woman he loved.
“Sansa.”
She turned around, her dark hair whipping about her, death’s wings engulfing her. Dark wings, dark words. Today, she felt poetic.
With a shy smile, she stepped toward the man who had proclaimed the night before that he loved her. He had called her his light, his angel, his reason for living, and it took all of Alayne’s strength to not laugh in his face. Angel ideed. He was sweet to her that night, sweeter than he had ever been, and she cried so hard she almost laughed.
“My love.”
With those words she stepped towards the man who had pledged himself to her. She closed the distance between them quickly, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed, her hair looking almost red against the sunset. She led him to the edge.
“Look down.”
He did. She did too.
“Now look at me.”
He did. She couldn’t.
She kissed him on the cheek, a short peck, breathed his name, and pushed him off the ledge.
“Sansa.”
She turned around, regarded the man who stood behind her. She looked into his pale grey eyes, eyes which looked grey and green and blue at different times, in different moods, and smiled.
“Yes.”