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Cloaked in thick grey furs and a gown of darkest black, Sansa Stark stood quietly in the godswood of Winterfell, one hand on the obsidian dagger at her waist and her Tully eyes scanning the soldiers standing at their posts. The Night King and his forces were just outside the castle walls and although she had never let the words pass her lips, she knew just how futile this was. Daenerys Targaryen had fallen with two of her dragons at the last battle at the Wall, when the allied forces has attempted to bring the fight to the Others and preserve as much of the North as they could. A fatal mistake. The White Walkers had brought down the Wall on their own heads, willing to lose so many of their army in order to gain more and more bodies from the living.As soon as Jon had seen the streak of silver fall with her largest and blackest of dragons he had ordered an immediate retreat. Sansa, who had been waiting impatiently at Last Hearth useless and unable to protect herself, sprang into action and led the retreat, collecting her men to her and her red hair, bright against the blanket of white that covered the ground. Of the hundred and twenty thousand men who went North to defend the Seven Kingdoms, only ten, maybe fifteen thousand remained. Their retreat would have been totally in vain had it not been for Jon’s sacrifice. He and the green dragon, the last of its kind, fended off its two brothers and distracted the wights from chasing after the living. Almost unable to see through the blur of tears, Sansa had pulled Arya away from the scene and onto her horse. It didn’t matter anymore, she told herself, they would all be together soon enough . They had barricaded Winterfell as best they could, the mothers, children, sickly and old hidden in the depths of the castle and the able-bodied men and women lining the battlements. But not her. Sansa and Arya stood guard over their brother. As she attempted to steady her breathing, she glanced over at Bran who also watched the entrance to the godswood. Reaching out, her left hand rested on his shoulder and she drew her dagger. Untrained though she may be, it was not Sansa’s way to go down without a fight. Arya’s dragonglass weapon was in her loose grip and as the two sisters made eye contact, Sansa felt a tear slip from her eye.‘I can think of nowhere I’d rather be.’ she murmured, knowing that they would hear her in the quiet of the woods. Arya nodded gently and moved her attention to the direction the invaders would arrive. Even now, Sansa could hear the first death cries of the men who had followed her home. ‘This is where we were meant to be.’ Bran replied, briefly breaking out of his usual trance-like state to grip the hand that still rested on his shoulder. The shouts and screams were growing ever louder and yet Sansa refused to let go of her brother. She realised with some surprise that her heartbeat remained steady and she felt no instinct to turn and run. I suppose some things are destiny. Some things are unchangeable. As the darkness of the godswood gates began to brighten with icy blue eyes, Arya raised her weapon into a fighting stance. The wind began to howl and snow fell every harder as the Walkers glided into the clearing, forging a path for their King, who strolled towards the Starks as though he had all the time in the world. Well, she thought, I suppose he does. ‘Well, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell,’ said Arya softly as she watched the Night King grow ever closer. ‘And winter has finally come for the Starks.’ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sansa shifted in bed, adjusting her legs to stretch down the length of the bed and turning her face away from the rising sun. Snuggling into her blankets, she dared to crack an eye open to look around. And sat bolt upright in bed. Her hand shot under her pillow, reaching for the obsidian dagger that hadn’t left her side in years. Her panic only mounted as her fingers closed on empty air and her breathing escalated as she tripped out of bed on legs that were too short. Her eyes darted around the room, flitting between the small tapestry that adorned a wall to the trunk at the foot of her bed and the somewhat familiar mantle to the fireplace. It can’t be… and yet it is? Sansa strode to the window, flinging open the glass and leaning her head out to better see what her mind couldn’t comprehend. Right in front of her was the bustling courtyard of her childhood. She could hear the blacksmith’s hammer ringing and the sound of Ser Rodrick’s voice giving commands to the stable hands. She quickly sat back down on her bed, limbs beginning to shake as Sansa began to process what she was seeing. An old trick came to mind and she counted in her head as she inhaled and exhaled, blocking out her surroundings and slowing her breath. Sansa knew not how long she had been sitting on her bed when the door burst open and Catelyn Stark walked in, resplendent in a dress of Tully colours.‘Mother?’ she whispered, rising slowly and gripping her nightgown tightly in one hand. ‘Yes, Sansa? Whatever’s the matter?’ Catelyn responded, eyebrows furrowing and one hand reaching out to her daughter. Sansa let out a strange sort of whimper and ran to her mother, arms winding around her waist and hugging her fiercely. The thought that her strange behaviour would be raising eyebrows tugged at the back of her mind for a moment but she brushed it aside and squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears. She inhaled the familiar scent that was innately her mother: lavender, soap and fresh bread, as Catelyn often enjoyed baking when she had the time. Her mother’s hand stroked her hair soothingly whilst the other arm held her daughter close to her.
“Sansa? Are you all right, sweetling?” Catelyn asked quietly, pulling back from the embrace to better look at her daughter. She nodded hurriedly, blinking back her tears. “Yes, I’m sorry Mother, I only had an awful dream.’ she said, pulling away as well and tucking her hair behind one ear. “Well, if you’re quite all right I only came to wake you as you hadn’t come to break your fast with us. I’ll call the maids in and leave you to dress, be quick about it.” said Catelyn, squeezing her shoulder and turning to leave.“Mother? I won’t need the maids this morning, I can dress myself today.”“Are you sure you’re alright, Sansa?”“Yes, Mother I’m fine.” Sansa replied with a wry smile. “I’ll be along soon.”Catelyn’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, searching her daughter’s face for something. She gave a small nod and left Sansa’s chambers, the wooden door creaking shut behind her. Sansa quickly selected a dove grey dress from her selection and dressed, her fingers moving of their own accord as they tightened the laces that ran along her spine. Slipping into her shoes, she braided her hair into a simple Northern fashion and left her chambers, not wanting to keep her mother waiting any longer. The halls of Winterfell were so achingly unblemished and familiar that Sansa could hardly stop her hand from reaching out to brush the stones. Her feet found the path that she had walked a thousand times over and she moved from her family’s wing in the keep towards the Great Hall where they ate every meal. Sansa was careful to greet every guard or worker she passed, careful to maintain the image that she’d had at twelve, of a girl enamoured with songs and poems and knights and queens. A quiet chuckle escaped from her lips as she thought, not for the first time, just how naïve she had been. Sansa would be ever-grateful for her growth from that girl to the woman she had become, Lady of Winterfell and Protector of the North. She had proved to herself time and again just how much of a Stark she truly was. From porcelain to ivory to steel. She soon found herself at the door to the Hall, the voices of the family she had lost calling to her from behind the oak. Gathering her courage, Sansa pushed the door open and entered the Hall, smiling at Ned Stark as he glanced up from the letters that sat next to his meal. Her eyes began to blur as her gaze moved to Robb, still as green as she had last seen him. He sat between Jon and Theon on her father’s right, the three of them with their heads together and bright eyes. She took her seat next to her mother and Rickon, who had just had his sixth nameday if she remembered correctly, and smiled as he reached out to tug her hair as he had done every morning since he was a small baby. ‘Good morning, my little wolf,’ she said, her lips curving into a smile and pulling the squirming child onto her lap and hugging him tightly. Even at six, her brother was still happy to hug his sister, his grubby hands winding around her neck.
‘Sansa, Sansa! I had a dream and I was a knight and I rescued you and Arya and Bran from a giant bear with my big sword and then we all came home and had cake!’ he chirped, leaping from her lap and demonstrating his swordsmanship with his breakfast knife. ‘Fat chance I’d need rescuing.’ Arya scoffed, shovelling another spoonful of porridge into her mouth and rolling her eyes. Swallowing quickly, she stood from the table and crouched in from of Rickon. ‘I’d be the bear!’ she growled and Rickon shrieked, turning on his heel and running away from Arya who followed him on all fours. ‘Don’t worry, Rickon! I’ll save you!’ shouted Bran, climbing on top of the table and brandishing a butter knife. Sansa could only laugh as her siblings chased each other around the Hall despite Catelyn’s reprimands. ‘Ned, won’t you do something? These are your children too!’ exclaimed Catelyn, crossing her arms in exasperation. ‘Actually, I think you’ll find they’re your children until the sun hits its peak,’ murmured Ned, still distracted by the correspondence on the table. ‘Fear not, mother,’ Robb said, pushing his chair back and walking around the table. ‘We’ll keep them in line.’Catelyn nodded and smiled at her eldest until Robb gestured for Jon to follow him and the three boys left the room. Sansa also excused herself after finishing her own bowl of porridge and made her way through the bustling courtyards and towards the godswood where she, Arya and Bran had made their last stand. It had been years since she’d seen the heart tree in the summer, and she approached it with some trepidation. There was a palpable energy in the air as she seated herself on the rock her father often came to clean Ice, the Stark Valyrian sword. The presence of the old gods had never felt more real than it did at that moment, as Sansa ruminated on why she had been returned. Why me? Of all people, why me? She knew the most important thing she could do would be keeping the Starks in power in any way she could. Five Stark children meant five opportunities to ally themselves with some of the other Great Houses of Westeros who would then lend them aid in the Great War. Marriage alliances meant one thing in particular that would present a challenge sooner than anticipated. Sansa must tell her father. She looked up at the heart tree and pressed her hand to the ancient oak. Soon, my child. Do not squander this second chance we have given you. Do not neglect the song of ice and fire.
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Her prayers at the base of the heart tree went uninterrupted, and granted her some time to think over her next move. Sansa’s greatest dilemma was whether or not to tell her parents of what had happened in the other world; it was easily proved as she knew what would happen to Jon Arryn and what Lysa’s letter would contain…But how to save the life of the Lord Hand? Perhaps an anonymous letter would suffice: it would alert him to immediate danger and with any luck it would prolong his life so that the truth about the Lannister bastards would come out. Opening her eyes, she glanced up at the sky and then back at the walls of the keep. Sansa knew that it wouldn’t be long before she had to interact with one of her siblings, so she gathered her skirts and quickly left the godswood before one of them could find her before she was ready. She was simultaneously eager and reluctant to see them again; she resented Robb’s decision to leave her in King’s Landing and forcing her to remain alone and afraid in Joffrey’s power for so long.Walking through the halls towards her father’s solar was like walking through a dream. So many nights she had walked these halls in her sleep during her imprisonment in the Red Keep, not believing that she’d ever return. Sansa was so lost in her reminiscing that she arrived at the door of the solar sooner than she had expected. Raising a shaking hand, she knocked on the thick oak and entered. The silhouette of Lord Eddard Stark took her breath away and she quashed the urge to run into his arms. It has been so long, father…. Fifteen years had passed since Ned had been executed on the steps of Baelor and not a day had gone by that she didn’t think of him.‘Sansa, my dear. What brings you to my solar?’ he asked kindly, setting aside his quill and turning towards her.‘Father, I have something to tell you, and I fear it will not be easy for you to believe, but you must try.’ She responded, walking to take the chair that sat opposite his own. ‘For me, fifteen years have passed since I sat with you in this solar. Since I left Winterfell for King’s Landing, many unspeakable horrors have come to pass; I have watched most of my family die, I have been imprisoned and kidnapped and assaulted and sold and seen legends come to life. There is so much that I do not have time to explain to you, yet so much that you must know.’ she sat back, panting slightly from the effort of confession. Sansa watched the expression on her father’s face move from levity to concern to disbelief to confusion and now he sat in deep contemplation as he gazed, unseeing, at her face.Finally, he stood abruptly and moved to secure the door more firmly, and paused facing the door. ‘You can prove this, child?’‘I can, Father.’Ned turned to face her and she was surprised to see that his eyes glittered with unshed tears. ‘Come here, darling.’ Opening his arms and kneeling, he caught her as she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. All of the pain and tension and fear she had felt since his execution was finally given release as her tears flowed from her eyes, finally feeling safe in the warmth and security in his embrace.She knew not how long they remained in their embrace, but when Sansa broke away all of her tears had been shed and she felt a contentment that was somewhat alien to her. Ned smiled at her and brushed her hair away from her face.‘Now, if you can, I think it’s time that you tell me more of what you have seen, and I had best call for your Lady Mother.’
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‘Sansa, I’m sure you can understand that this is hard for us to believe. It’s a wild tale, child, even you must admit that!’ exclaimed Catelyn, after arriving and being told what Sansa had said to Ned.‘I know that, Mother.’ she replied, reaching out to grasp her hand. ‘But I have proof. In the next few days, a deserter from the Watch will be brought to Winterfell; he will tell you that of the Others he encountered Beyond the Wall. Father, Jon will find a litter of direwolf pups with their dead mother. There will be six: one for each Stark child.’Catelyn and Ned exchanged glances. Ned had received a raven from Maester Aemon at the Wall just that morning stating that one of their men had deserted and to expect him in a matter of days.‘Furthermore, Father, Lord Arryn is in grave danger. He has uncovered a dangerous secret and if he has not been poisoned already, he will be soon. If he dies, King Robert will ride North to ask you to become Hand of the King.’Catelyn paled several shades and Ned stood up and began to pace. ‘We must warn him at once! I cannot allow him to die in this way, he has been like a father to me all these years.’‘Ned, I know how much you love Jon, but if we alter his fate Sansa’s knowledge of the future may become useless to us. Something so drastic as the death of the Hand could change so much that we will have no way of knowing what is to come.’ Catelyn pointed out, and Ned ran a hand down his face in frustration.‘I know…’ he sighed, ‘but we must question why Sansa has been brought back to this time. Surely the presence of her memories indicates that some things must be changed; perhaps Jon’s fate is one of them.’‘This is a difficult decision for you, I realise that Father. But the longer you deliberate, the less opportunity we have to save him if that’s what you decide to do.’ Sansa explained, watching her father’s emotions play across his face. The love that he had for his foster father and the fear for his life was clearly at war with the fact that allowing him to die may save the lives of countless more. Sansa was frustrated with the lack of certainty she could give them.‘Father, if it would help you, I know the secret that Lord Arryn has uncovered.’Ned immediately lifted his eyes to her. ‘Yes, Sansa that would help.’‘Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are not Robert’s children.’Catelyn gasped, covering her mouth with her hand and she looked to Ned, who sat heavily in his chair.‘By the Gods…’‘If they are not Robert’s whose are they? A Kingsguard?’ asked Catelyn.‘Their father is Ser Jaime Lannister. Cersei and Jaime have been in a relationship since they were young. Has no one ever noticed that all of Robert’s bastard are black of hair, and yet Cersei’s children are all golden haired?’ ‘So this is what Jon saw… Sansa I’ve decided,’ said Ned, picking up a quill and parchment. ‘I cannot allow him to die but we must expose Cersei for what she is.’Sansa nodded, and rose from her chair. ‘Very well Father. I advise that you also write to Lord Stannis, who is also aware of the…situation, and would be willing to oppose Cersei with you and Lord Arryn. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go and pray in the godswood for some enlightenment.’Catelyn nodded, somewhat distracted as she read over Ned’s shoulder the message that he was writing. ‘Thank you, Sansa. I will call you back if you are needed here, sweetling.’Sansa left her parents in the solar and began to make her way back to the godswood. Her mind was racing and her heart pounding. Gods, please let this be the right decision. I have too much to lose.Glancing to her right, she watched as Jon, Robb and Theon sparred in the courtyard. She could see the makings of the great warriors she had heard of when she was in King’s Landing; despite the war, even Tywin Lannister had admitted that Robb was a great warlord. As she watched Jon with her brother, his face hardened in concentration as he parried blows and sidestepped thrusts, she began to ruminate on the way she had treated him in the past.The difference in disposition between Arya and herself had always made her feel as though her father didn’t like her as much; many had said that Arya was a carbon copy of Lyanna Stark, both in looks and mannerisms. The boys were, of course, wild and rambunctious and Arya fit in with them in a way that she didn’t. Sansa had known that she would never earn her father’s approval in the same way that Arya could, so she dedicated herself to obeying her mother and being a perfect lady, desperate for her father to look at her in the same way.
But that never came.
Her emulation of her mother didn’t succeed in earning her father’s approval, so in adopting Catelyn’s attitude towards Jon she hoped that her mother, at least, would like her.She had been so wrong! So desperate for approval that she had overlooked how attention-starved and insecure Jon was, and scorned him in the same way her mother did. The first thing she needed to do was apologise to him.
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I'm back! Currently attempting to plan out the outline of the story so I have some guidance while I'm writing, if you have any requests pop them in the comments and if they go with the ideas I have I'll do my best to include them :) also considering rewriting the existing chapters, thoughts?Update: later in the day - I have the first 20 chapters outlined and will be rewriting the first 3 that have already been posted so watch this space!Update: next day - I have rewritten the first chapter, let me know what you think!