wholeworldoutthere | When the dawn is still dark

It had been two days, as far as he could tell. Two bloody days (mostly in the figurative sense, sadly, but Klaus would not risk getting lynched by feeding off anyone on the station) and there was still no sign of their host, no hint as to why they had been brought here. More worryingly, two days and the vaccine still hadn't worn off. Klaus was still weak as a babe (or, more accurately, as a human, he imagined, but it had been too long for him to remember for certain), which explained his sudden need for caution.

If only his compulsion worked properly.

He had already explored as much of the station as he could access, but he still went for another walk that day. Perhaps calling it a stroll might be more appropriate, given the way he leisurely ambled around the station. Any more time spent alone in the suite he had appropriated and he might actually snap and decide to go on a bloody rampage of everyone that crossed his path. So he had grabbed one of these odd flashlights they'd been able to find here and there and gone on an afternoon stroll.

Yes, he had decided that this was the afternoon.

Now if only he could get his hands on the things he kept hearing noises from, he would be a marginally less bored hybrid. Sadly, he simply wasn't quick enough anymore.

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"It goes on forever." Her speech was different - cleaner, the vowels rounder. Her face crumpled, and she held her fingers to her lips, taking a deep breath, then another. "Why can't any of them-" She swallowed a breath, and then even with tears in her eyes and being all blotchy and red, she looked up at him to thank him. Every movement polite, every word chosen carefully, she continued. "This is more beautiful than I could ever have dreamed. Thank you."

She wished they could see this - that her father could stare out at the universe and see that there was so much more than the world they did inhabit, that their sky was nothing compared to this. He had died for what? For honor? He had died because of her, she had realised sometime later. She didn't even remember when - after the mob, most likely, but before she was Alayne, she realised that Eddard Stark had died because of a multitude of things, but the sword had fallen because of her.

And he would never see this.

She did not know how, and did not know why she began to weep, why she was crying for Eddard and Robb and Catelyn and Bran and Rickon; for Ser Dontos and Ser Loras and for Arya and more than anything in that moment, for Sansa Stark. For the girl who would never exist again, the way she had.

She turned away from him, hugging herself, her head bent as she tried to stop herself, but she could not, and could not speak to apologize.

"You're welcome," he told her, with a half-smile, but a genuine one, not one of the ones he seemed to constantly wear because it was the best way to go through (un)life. It quickly turned into a frown when her tears intensified until Alayne was actually weeping, and turning away from him.

Weeping humans had never been his area of expertise, and they were certainly not an area of expertise he was looking to acquire. He moved back to the wider steps that served as seats, giving her space while not leaving her there alone.

He did feel somewhat responsible for her, now that he had brought her here, and he would see her back to her quarters if he had a choice in the matter. He usually did.

In the meantime, he watched her, and wished again that his compulsion worked. Her tears would already have been gone, and maybe he would try it anyway, if she did not stop soon.

She wiped her face with her sleeve, and then turned to see if he was there, and- Oh, Gods. He was gone. She sniffled, and stared out at the endless sea of space, pulling in breath after breath, her face hot. Her eyes still leaked tears, but she couldn't stop herself from thinking- Arya would stare, then probably break something. Or draw on the windows. Bran would stay, forever, just watching the stars. Her mother and father would have stood together, and Robb- Oh, how her heart ached for her brother - would have been torn between the window and his family.

She realised, then, that Jon would have been back by the door, staring out at the reaches of space all the same. She turned, and was obviously surprised when she realised Klaus was still there - standing up straighter, trying to wipe at her eyes, finding her voice. "I'm so- forgive me, my lord, I was- I was overwhelmed, and- My family--" It was the first time that 'Alayne' had not spoken of her father alone, and she could have kicked herself. "I mean, my father. He would have loved this." When the truth was, she could not see Petyr Baelish staring out at this unflinching. She could not see him able to stare into the universe and have it stare back. "You do not have to stay." She did not particularly want him to go, but it was the only thing she could say.

"You keep calling me my lord, I might just go," Klaus assured her, not moving from his seated position nearer the door. It was said on that particular tone of his that encouraged people to take his words as a joke despite the truth there was to them.

He gestured at the window behind her. "Take your time."

"No, I am-" She lifted her chin. "Thank you for bringing me here." The tears had thankfully stopped, and she hoped they would not start again. Not while she was in public. "You must have other things-" Actually no. This place - this place was full of nothing but time to think and wish you were home.

"Did you expect this? Is this... what it would be on your world?" She moved closer, and it was clear from how she walked that she'd a lifetime of gowns and had that careful step when going up stairs that you needed as to not end up promptly on your face.

It was striking, in fact, that Alayne did not belong in pants. But it was to be expected from the daughter of a lord, even a bastard, as long as he had taken her in, and it did not register any more with Klaus than her earlier family-father correction. Bastards always had complicated relations to their family.

He would know.

"What, the stars?" he asked, glancing back at the window before looking at her again. "Perspective changes everything."

"Is it not so beautiful?" She turned to look out the window for another moment, then back to him. "It is- There is nothing I have seen that is..." She could not find the words, no matter how she tried. "What I meant, is did you- Am I alone, in thinking that steals your heart away?"

She laughed, then, her voice a bit hoarse from crying. "I sound like a fool, don't I. Or a girl who has learned nothing of the world." That world was gone, and she knew it fair well - whether she returned to Westeros, or no.

"It is real? It is not a painting, or... or some sort of magic?" She resisted the urge to look again, instead just waiting earnestly.

"It is real," Klaus confirmed, looking up at her with a half-smile when she reached the step he was on. "Very probably, anyway."

Arms propped on his thighs, he rubbed his thumb along his jawline, letting his gaze drift back to the window. A picture window; the phrase had never been more apt. "I wouldn't know about my heart, but it certainly stole my breath away, when I first saw it."

After a moment, Sansa perched herself next to him, her hands folded in her lap. "I feel like someone took my heart and stole it away, and now it's lost out there." She stared out at the stars, shaking her head. "And I do not think I will get it back - I thought it was gone in the first place." She looks down at her fingers, her brows furrowing.

She glanced over at him. "Do you think we will go home? That we will serve whatever purpose we have here, and then we'll go home again?"

"I think - I hope," he corrected himself, "that we'll find out soon."

He was not overly worried, he had time. He was mostly mildly annoyed at being stuck here, in this dusty place. The observation rooms had taken some of the edge off of that irritation, but it still remained, addled by his weakened state and the knowledge that Rebekah might think that he had run out on her.

He could see the look on her face when he told her that no, he had in fact been abducted and transported to a space station.

"And I know that there is no point worrying over it," he added. "Take one day at a time, Alayne. It is too soon to tell either way."

When the dawn is still dark

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