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Chapter Text

Sansa awoke early, as she was wont to do. It was habit, to arise early and spend time in the godswood, before she broke her fast.
She did not pray anymore, she had not lied about that to Tyrion those many years ago in King's Landing, when she was only a stupid little girl.
She had no faith left in the gods, certainly not the gods of her mother, for they had never heard her many many prayers.
She wasn't quite sure of her father's gods. She could not deny that there was something in the air in the godswood, something that could not be explained. Even her mother had agreed.
But Sansa found the godswood comforting more due to the memories it brought back rather than any deities it housed.
It reminded her of her father cleaning Ice, of her siblings playing and rough housing, though she had never joined.
No, back then, she had always been more concerned with being a lady.
Her sister had been her father's favourite. He had never said so, had perhaps never realised it himself. But he had always preferred Arya, for he understood her, could see his sister Lyanna in her.
He had always allowed her to get away with a lot of things. Sansa had never liked the archery and horse riding that had so interested her sister.
And when she had realised that she would never be as good as Arya, she had turned her attention to more ladylike pursuits. To singing and sewing and learning how to manage a household.
She was like her mother - a lady, a southron. She cannot pretend that it had not hurt, to have others say that she had none of the North in her.
But Lady, her fierce, gentle direwolf, she had proven to all, that Sansa was just as much a northener as any of her siblings.
Sansa had taken strength from that thought, had reminded herself that her very bones were of the north, through the many years she had spent in places where there were only lies and plots.
But those years had taught her well, had taught her the harsh realities of the world that her parents had protected her from.
And these were the teachings she took with her as she went about her day, as she broke her fast and listened to petitions in the great hall and worked to restore the North.
The North had never been meant for her. It was Robb's. She had never thought it would fall to her. Not when she had had three brothers in line before her.
And Sansa tried to be a good queen, tried to be kind yet firm, tried to combine the best of her father's teachings and her mother's and even those of Cersei and Baelish.
She had been a pawn once, a slow learner. But she had learnt. She had given everything - her dignity, her body, her innocence- for the North.
But Sansa could not deny that it was lonely. Ruling was a thankless job. Jon was exiled beyond the wall and Bran was King in the South, though there wasn't much of Bran left in him, and Arya was gone on her voyages.
She had missed her family and now that she had her home back, it did not feel the same without them.
She knew also, that she would eventually be forced to marry. Her advisors were currently not asking it of her, as the North was still getting to its feet.
But she knew, they would start asking for an heir sooner than later. And then, Sansa would be asked to barter her body away again, to give a man power over her. She would never make him a king, he would never be her equal.
But all men rule their wives and she would be forced to bend. She did not know how she would deal with that.
In another lifetime, all she had wanted was a husband and children and to be a lady and keep house.
Now she no longer had a place in her heart for those desires. If it was left up to her, she would never marry. But there was the matter of an heir. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.
If Sansa was being truly honest, she wanted her family back. She wanted to not have to worry about ruling. She wanted to be free. She would live out her days in peace in Winterfell, forever an old maid.
These were the thoughts that plagued her as she retired to her bedchamber that night. She had been thinking on it the whole day, had not even realised how the day had passed her by. She had done her duties but could not remember precisely any of them.
Unbeknownst to her, there were forces, forces far beyond even the comprehension of man, that were listening. And planning.

The next day, Sansa awoke and immediately knew that something was not right. She had woken up in chambers that were not her own. Chambers that she had not seen since she was a girl for they had been burned to the ground by Theon.
She sat up, shocked to her core. She was up and running out of her chambers in an instant. Just as she was about to leave, she saw the looking glass. She screamed.
The face that looked back at her was that of a child's. The sharp jawline and high cheekbones had been replaced by a far more youthful appearance.
Sansa had to get to the godswood. She had to be dreaming. She somehow felt a pull to the godswood. If she went there, perhaps she would wake up from her dream.
Sansa ran. She ran faster than she had ever run. Still dressed in her night things, she did not even feel the cold. She reached the godswood without encountering anyone.
There she crumpled against the heart tree and sobbed her eyes out. She wept and cursed as she had never done before.
The shock of it was too much. She had learned to keep her emotions hidden but now she could not bring herself to stop crying.
After some time however, she managed to get a hold of herself. And just as was wiping her face with her hands, she heard a voice.
'Child of the North, you have been sent back. To prevent the many great sufferings that will befall your family and by extension the North. Your duty will always be to the North. Save your family and you will save the North'

Chapter Text

Sansa sat with her back against the heart tree. She was not sure how much time had passed. The words kept echoing in her mind - Save your family and you will save the North.
Was it true? Could she really save everyone? Or had she gone mad? Was this was all a figment of her imagination? Or a dream? Or rather, a nightmare?
Well, she reasoned to herself, sitting here will not solve anything.
Just as she had decided to go back to her chambers and try to figure out what to do with herself, she caught sight of a figure.
Father.
She had missed him so. She had never stopped blaming herself for her failures, especially his death.
Perhaps if she had just been smarter or braver, she could have saved him.
And at that moment, Sansa vowed, if this was not something she had dreamed up, if this world did exist, she would do everything in her power to protect her family.
'Sansa, sweeting, is something the matter? You are never here this early in the morn. There was a scream heard from your chambers and you were not to be found. Your mother is worried,'
Sansa startled, she had forgotten his voice. That northern timbre, which was so like Jon.
'It was just a nightmare Father. I came out here to clear my thoughts.'
'Are you sure you're alright Sansa? You usually come to our chambers of you are afraid. You speak strangely child', said Ned.
And just as he said it, Sansa immediately realised. She sounded like the Queen in the North. She did not sound like a young girl with her head in the clouds.
And she could not afford to be taken seriously. To be looked at as a threat. No, she must remain as silly as possible.
'No Father. I simply did not want to wake you. I am almost a lady now after all', said Sansa.
She made sure to push a little childishness in her voice, to sound as though she was pretending to be older than her years. It was a voice she had frequently put on in her youth, in her desires to be a lady.
She thought she saw a glimpse of amusement on her father's face but it lasted only an instant.
'Well then. We should go back to the keep. We will be breaking our fast soon.'
And they walked, father and daughter, hand in hand, neither really aware of how much life was about to change.

Sansa walked silently all the way to her chambers. She looked at herself in the looking glass. She did not scream. No, instead she looked at herself objectively.
She was a child, that much was true. She had a round face and her hair was far lighter than it had been in her future past.
But she was a pretty child. And she had grown into a beautiful woman.
These were not the thoughts of a vain woman. No.
Sansa knew she had been beautiful. That beauty had never gotten her far. Had only wanted to make others harm her.
And by the time she had realised that she could use it, her body had been battered far too much for her to consider it.
And then she had been queen and her word had been command and she had not required beauty, though she knew there were many who would have done much for her only due to her pretty face.
But now, she thought, she could use this. People were so caught up in looking at a pretty face that they did not see the cruelty behind it.
Or perhaps, as in Cersei's case, they saw it but did not care much of it.
She had seen how Margaery Tyrell had used her looks and her sweet smiles and honeyed words to wrap Joffrey around her finger.
Even Baelish had looked at her with desire, desire which she knew was for her mother. But that desire had clouded his judgement, had been his end.
Yes, Sansa thought. She would use this.

Sansa opened the door and looked into her closet, at the many many dresses she owned. She had been quite a spoiled child, wearing Myrish lace this far up North.
She could not bring herself to wear these silly clothes again. She wanted the clothes she had worn as Queen. Dresses with direwolves and fur and weirwood leaves.
But she could not wear it here. Firstly, she did not have the fabric to make them, though she could repurpose some of the existing ones.
Secondly, her family would surely suspect something if sweet stupid Sansa who lived in her songs started to not care so much about her appearance.

So Sansa chose one of the lesser intricate pieces, though still far more extravagant than any she owned in the future. It was green, with blue fish all over the hem and bodice and, if you looked closely, the fish seemed to be made of snowflakes.

She had wasted quite a bit of time getting ready, putting her hair in two braids, not even thinking of asking a maid for help. But it was no matter, Sansa here was known for taking time and pride in her appearance.

She walked slowly to the great hall to break her fast, unsure of what she would find and how she should react to it all.

As she neared the great hall, she could here all sorts of noises. Breakfast seemed to be in full swing as she arrived.
The lower tables were filled with those that worked in the keep, the maids and guards.
As she moved closer to the main table, she could see Ser Rodrick Cassel, the master-at-arms. She also saw Beth, his daughter, who had been a sweet childhood mate. She saw Jory, the captain of the guards, who had been killed by Jaime Lannister's men those many years ago.

She also saw Vayon Poole, the steward and his daughter Jeyne. Jeyne had been her closest friend once but Sansa could now realise that the two of them had been cruel little girls, always gossiping.

She saw Theon. His swagger and attitude. He was unrecognisable as the man she had known. That man had been broken. Had done terrible things and had had unspeakable things happen to him.

She saw Jon. But this Jon was so young, so different from the one she had known. There was no scar over his eye. His black curls were free, not tied back as he had preferred in the future. She could see that he had less ghosts in his eyes. He was unhappy at not being seated with her family, she knew. But the clouds over him were far lighter than she had ever seen. Sansa vowed that he would never become the man she run to for safety. He would never suffer as he had.

And then, seated just a touch above everyone, was the rest of her family. Father, solid, dependable and always so kind. Her mother, gentle, the utmost lady.
Wild Arya and playful Bran and baby Rickon. And oh gods, Robb. Oh how she had missed him. Once, he had been her favourite. He had indulged her, had played with her, had not teased her as much as others.
But then Robb had abandoned her. And she had understood, truly she had. She was just a girl. He could not save her. But she could not pretend that it had not hurt.
She had waited and waited for him to come and her heart had broken when he had not.

Sansa realised that she was standing frozen and quickly shook herself. She walked to her place at the table and served herself some warm gruel. It was hearty northern fare and her insides felt warm.
Her mother looked at her with a face of concern.
'Sansa, are you alright? Your father said you were out in the godswood this morn.'

'Yes, mother. I just had a bad dream. The godswood felt like the place to be.'
Sansa made sure to keep her voice that of a child's. She could not afford her family becoming suspicious of her.

She stayed silent throughout her breakfast, just observing her family. Taking them all in.

Then she had lessons to attend to. Sansa had prided herself on being a good student. Septa Mordane had always praised her so. But those arts did not just come to Sansa. She had worked and worked on her seeing and embroidery. And she had to be the same girl here.
She walked off quietly to her lessons, unaware that someone was looking at her suspiciously.

Chapter Text

Jeyne Poole was a simple girl. She was the daughter of the steward at Winterfell. She liked sewing and giggling and japing. And she liked Sansa Stark. They had been friends their entire lives, Sansa having never gotten along with her sister.
They spent quite a bit of time together, in Septa Mordane's lessons and in looking at the handsome stable boys. Imagining their future husbands and laughing at Arya's sewing.
Jeyne was a simple girl, but she was not stupid. There was something decidedly different about Sansa.
Usually after breaking their fast they walked together to their lessons. But today, Sansa had walked off without even sparing Jeyne a glance.
And Sansa had been late. She did take time with her hair, but never so much. She liked being punctual, like a lady.
And she had worn a gown that she had put away in the back only last week, claiming it was too dark and drab.

Yes, there was something different. And Jeyne was going to find out.

Jeyne observed Sansa throughout their lessons. On the surface she appeared the same. She laughed with Jeyne and her stitches were impeccable.

But mayhaps they were too good. Sansa was a skilled seamstress, that much was true. But she was not quite so skilled as to hold a conversation and sew without even once looking at her work.

And while Sansa seemed as usual, Jeyne noticed that she went out of her way to not antagonise Arya. Sansa never let go of an opportunity to tell Arya exactly what she thought of her skills, but today she seemed to almost ignore her.

Away from the scrutiny, Arya was doing better. Not well by any means. Her stitches were crooked and leant towards the left. But it was not as bad as always.

Septa Mordane seemed to agree.
'Lady Arya, your work needs much improvement but if you continue as you are, you will surely reach Lady Sansa's mastery over the craft'

Jeyne looked at Sansa, expecting to see her pleased face at being praised. But Sansa had an oddly blank look on her face, almost as if she were angry.

Arya scowled at the comparison and looked ready to burst.
Sansa, perhaps sensing this, said, 'Septa, Arya's skills and mine are not the same. That does not mean one is better or worse. We are sisters after all. Starks of Winterfell'

Septa Mordane looked as if she had no response to this statement. If she was quite honest, Jeyne herself did not know what to say.
The other ladies quickly began gossiping among themselves and Arya looked as if she had seen something quite extraordinary.

Sansa for her part, continued her sewing as if nothing had happened.

Later, after lessons, Jeyne thought she and Sansa might go and sit in the yard, look at the new stable boy, who was quite a handsome lad.

But Sansa was nowhere to be found. Jeyne looked in the sept and the great hall and even the kitchens.

Finally she decided to look in the library. And indeed, Sansa was there, reading.
Now Sansa did love reading, but she usually read stories and songs and romance. Now here she was, looking at the old ledgers of Winterfell.

'Sansa, what in the gods are you doing?', said Jeyne.

Many ladies did not have leave to speak this way. But Jeyne and Sansa were friends and Sansa had always looked to Jeyne as a sister.

'Oh Jeyne, I was just looking at these old ledgers, trying to make sense of it all. You know I have no head for numbers', replied Sansa.

She sounded odd, as if she were just saying empty words.

'Are you quite alright Sansa?', asked Jeyne. 'You have been behaving differently since morn'

'I am well. I have just realised that my previous behaviour was not ladylike. I must know numbers to run a great household. And ladies do not behave in the manner I have behaved with Arya', said Sansa.

Jeyne was not entirely convinced of this. But perhaps Sansa was just growing up. She would soon be betrothed after all.

And Jeyne planned on being with her lady. She knew well the kind of husbands men could be. And Sansa would need someone if her corner.
She would assist her lady as much as she was able. Perhaps it was time she grew up as well.
'Well let me help you then, my lady'

Chapter Text

Sansa had spent the entire day pretending, pretending that she was a young girl not interested in the ways of the world.

And honestly it had been exhausting. She had not realised how much of a toll it would have on her.

Sansa was sure Jeyne suspected something. Sansa had spent most of her time with Jeyne as a child after all.

But Sansa also knew, that she could not tell Jeyne, could not tell anyone.

Jeyne was a good companion, a good friend. But in her past, she had suffered only for this very reason.

She had disappeared, and Baelish had indicated that she had ended up at one of his many brothels.

Jeyne did not deserve that. But Sansa also needed help. She had always been quite poor with numbers.

Being Lady of Winterfell and then Queen had certainly taught her much. But she knew that there was much more she could do.

Jeyne was the daughter of a steward, accomplished with numbers. Perhaps Sansa would be able take her help without revealing too much.

Sansa was also ashamed to say that Jeyne had brought back a version of herself she had forgotten existed.

Once, Sansa had been a naive child. But she had not been cruel. She had believed in the kindness of the world. Had believed she would grow up loved and cherished.

And then when it had not happened, all she had wanted was her family. But there had been so many who had been lost, who had suffered. The North had bled, for years and years.

And she was Queen in the North. That title would never be hers here. But when she had been coronated, she had vowed, that she would never let the North lose its sons and daughters again.

And she was determined to see through that vow here was well.

The old gods, or the heart tree, whoever it had been, that had sent her back, had been clear on that as well.

She had to save the North. And Sansa knew her abilities quite well. She was a decent politician, she was quite a skilled liar. She was a good ruler, she knew how to speak to the smallfolk and the noble folk.

But she was not good with numbers, not good with war. And she looked like a child. No one would be coming to her for political advice.

She had to stick to the shadows and make her moves. And anybody that helped her had to be just as invisible. Jeyne was a good choice.

Yes. Sansa would take Jeyne's help. The gods knew she could not do it alone.

Once Sansa had made up her mind, she began theorising of what exactly she could do.

To her dissatisfaction, there wasn't a lot. She could not be sure but her body looked around ten name days old.

This meant she had three years before the King would show up at Winterfell, before Jon Arryn would die and the realm would be thrown into chaos.

There was little she could do here. But the gods must have thought that she could change something this early, so she had to at least try.

The ledgers were a good start. They had all been destroyed by the time she had returned to Winterfell in her world. They would have been quite helpful then.

There were records of even the long night here. Not meticulous records by any means, but there were a few to be sure.

And just as she had been thinking of the long night, she gasped. She knew who would believe her, who could stay in the shadows and help her!

'Old Nan!'

Nan had been in Winterfell for a long time, possibly since before her grandfather was a boy.

As a child, her tales had horrified Sansa but a lot of them had come out to be true in very chilling ways. Bran had once told her, that Nan knew a lot more than she let on.

Nan would know what to do about the White Walkers. Yes, she did tend to exaggerate, but Sansa was sure she would tell her something of importance.

Nan loved her after all, loved all of them. The Starks. Winterfell. The North.

This decision finally allowed Sansa to go to sleep.

The next day, she awoke early but purposely did not leave her chambers. She could afford no more abnormal behaviour.

She spent time looking at the ledgers again. Yesterday she had looked about for books regarding winter in the library. There were many of course. But she did not have the time to sit about reading all of them.

She could ask Maester Luwin, he was always glad to have an interested student.

But Sansa had developed a distrust of maesters. It had first been Pycelle in King's Landing, who had always touched her far more than was necessary.

Then it had been Maester Wolkan. He had never hurt her of course. He had even tried to be kind, to treat the wounds Ramsey had given her. Not that Ramsey had allowed much of that.

But he was supposed to be a Maester, to heal others, to help others. And he had been nothing but a coward. She understood his plight, she did. But she could not respect it.

Even in childbirth, Sansa felt as if women would be of more help than the maesters. They simply did not understand.

So Sansa was reluctant to talk to Luwin, though she might have to.

It was time to break her fast, so she hurried to the great hall.

Sansa knew that she was more silent than usual and that this would be suspicious. But she was not sure of what to say, of how to speak.

She loved her family. But they had not understood her. And now they never could understand her. And missing her family did not mean she knew how to talk to them. She had forgotten that ages ago. When she had learned to wear her courtesies as armour and let none know what she thought.

She would have to play the charade once more, otherwise they would notice. For now though, she was safe and she let herself have this small happiness.

Once lessons were done, and weren't they tedious - Sansa was an excellent seamstress, she knew all her courtesies, all the songs and stories and she could recite the seven pointed star verbatim - she decided to finally go and meet Nan.

Nan was in her chambers, for she could not walk around much. Nan was also blind, so Sansa was not sure she would recognise her. But Nan did.

'Come child, I've been waiting for you'

Chapter Text

To say Sansa was shocked by Nan's behaviour was an understatement.

Why had Nan been waiting for her? Sansa of old had never come to Nan before. She had listened to her stories with her siblings.

But she had never been one to seek out Old Nan.

Sansa's doubts were confirmed. Old Nan knew something.

'Nan, I have to ask you something', said Sansa.

'I know well what you seek, child. You have been marked by the old gods', replied Nan is her old, raspy voice.

'What do you mean, Nan? What do you know?', asked Sansa.

'Oh child, I know of your struggles. Perhaps it is more that I sense them rather than know of them', said Nan.

'I have seen generations of Stark children you know. Your brother Bran always had a touch of something in him. But you, you have far more than a touch'

'Can you help me?', Sansa wanted to know.

'I will tell you all I know, all my tales and stories. But that is all these old bones can do', was Nan's reply.

'The Starks have always been connected to those beyond the wall, though you have forgotten now. That is why Starks do not fare well down south. There is something that links you, to that which is beyond'

'Links us? Whatever do you mean?', enquired Sansa.

'Blood, child, blood. The blood of the first men runs through your veins. It was said, many many years ago, that the Night queen, the Night King's bride, had Stark blood.
But she was taken from him. And along with her, their child.
The Night King wants revenge on every Stark. He will not rest.
And his influence extends far beyond what you imagine. He cannot touch you here this far south, that much is true.
But he is gathering strength.
And only a woman with Stark blood can defeat him, for he will bow to none other than one who resembles his bride.'

'Arya', breathed Sansa.

'Yes, perhaps. I do not know, child. It might be your sister. But it could be you. Or it could be someone generations from now. These things are never clear', said Nan.

'How do you know all this?', asked Sansa.

'Those with the old blood always know. There are few left of us. I have never met another in my life'

'Nan, what should I do now? I have to save everyone. The North. But the South will never let us be. And we cannot fight by ourselves, we will need allies. Even if Arya can kill the Night King, he has an entire army. How will she reach the Night King?', said Sansa, suddenly desperate.

'You must play to your strengths. That is all I can say. That is all I know', said Nan.

'But'

'And this I will tell you. There are always ears and eyes. Always. Learn to use them'

After this, Sansa could pry no more information out of Nan.

Her mind whirled. Only a woman with Stark blood could defeat the Night King. It could her, or Arya, or someone else.

But Sansa knew that they could not afford for the Night King to gain power over the next few generations.

So it would be Arya.

Well, it could be her. But she knew in her bones. It would be Arya.

So she had to ensure that Arya became good enough to kill the Night King. And she had to make sure that the realm supported them when the time came.

The last time they had won only by chance and because of Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons.

Sansa did not know what to think of the Dragon Queen. She was a strong woman, certainly.

She had overcome much in her life and gotten to where she had by herself, without any substantial help.

But Sansa was well aware of how dangerous a Targaryen could be, a dragon could be.

Daenerys Targaryen would have to be dealt with. How that would be done was a concern. But it was a concern for much later.

Right now, she needed for Westeros to be united. But how to accomplish that as a child.

Old Nan's words ran through her mind. She had to use her strengths. This meant her mind.

Nan had spoken about invisible eyes and ears.

It was quite clear what Sansa had to do.
She was going to build a spy network.

Chapter Text

Sansa did have some experience with spying. Baelish had had many little birds after all.

She had used a few of them herself, had been able to turn them to her. But they had not served a lot of use this far up North.

And those little birds had been Baelish's. Sansa knew very little about how to build a spy network, how to recruit people.

She thought on spymasters she had known - Varys and Baelish.
From what she knew, Varys had mostly used children, those with few other means to make their way in the world. And he had been kind enough to them.

Baelish had used whores. Men tended to speak freely in front of them.
It was useful that men rarely thought of whores, of women really, as intelligent or dangerous or someone to guard their tongues around.

Now who could Sansa use?

The kind of information she would get would largely differ depending on the source. Only a fool would put all their eggs in one basket. And Sansa was no fool.

This meant she would use any and everyone who could be used.

Now would be the matter of funding this spy network. Varys' spies were given gold directly from the Red Keep, while Baelish's threats and the money from the brothel had helped him.

Sansa had little money. She knew Winterfell kept a large share of it's monies with the Iron Bank of Braavos. Whatever was required regularly was kept in Winterfell.

This was a smart strategy. If Winterfell ever left Stark hands, as it had in her past, their fortunes would be safe.

Even she had not known of this information till she had been crowned Queen. It would have been better to have known beforehand, to fund the war.

But there was nothing to be done. And Sansa had decided to quietly continue her ancestors' practices.

But how to get the funds now? She could ask her parents certainly, but they would want to know the purpose, and there would be a limit to how much they gave her.

Could she steal? In the worst case scenario, she acknowledged she could. But she was reluctant to do it.

What skills did she have that she could barter?

Well, sewing was one. Sansa was very good at making garments and embroidery.
But it would take months to save up anything substantial.

However, it was not like she had any other alternatives. Sewing it would be.

Sansa decided to start small - with tapestries. They did not require measurements and if she made them properly, even a few smallfolk might buy them, just for a bit of cheer in the house.

It was summer after all. Most folks could afford a little frivolousness.

Sansa set to work. For now, cloth would not be a problem. Winterfell had a large supply of cloth and none would notice if a little went missing.

She decided on making a tapestry with the heart tree, most in the North prayed to the old gods after all.

The small tapestry took over an hour. But Sansa knew she would've taken much longer as a girl.

One tapestry done, she decided to plan out a few others for later. Once she had more, she would go into Wintertown to sell.

Sansa was quite adept at disguises. She'd lived as Baelish's bastard daughter. And she knew how to behave as a part of the smallfolk. Her hair was noticeable, but it was nothing that tying it back and pulling a hood over it wouldn't fix.

Sansa could not spend the entire day at this work. She would be missed.

And so it went on. During the day, Sansa would behave as she always had.

But at night, she worked on her tapestries.
Sansa also started paying more attention to the servants.

She had foregone a maid when she had been Lady of Winterfell. But here she did have a lady's maid. And she made full use of her.

Her name was Bella. She was not much older than Sansa herself, perhaps five namedays older.

Sansa spoke to her as if to a friend. She told her little titbits of her life, not enough to be used against her, but enough for Bella to think of her kindly, to think of her as a confidant.

And slowly but surely, Bella started telling her the castle gossips - which maid liked which stable boy and who found her brother handsome and who needed moon tea.

These little gossips would not have been of much importance, if Sansa didn't know how to use them.

She would acquire moon tea for the maid who needed it, without anyone knowing.
And she would get another little bird for her troubles.

As days went on, the servants started slowly slowly coming to Sansa of their own volition.

The news began to spread, that Lady Sansa would help most, as much as she was able.

And so Sansa started building something of her own.

Chapter Text

Time went on, as it always does and soon almost six moons had passed by.

Sansa had continued her work as she could. She had listened to the servants, tried to help, and tried to sway them towards her.

There were a few maids who spoke to her quite frankly. There were not many of them, but she did have a few. Bella, her lady's maid was one of them. Bella liked gossip and had not been a lady's maid for a long time.

She was much like Shae, she said what she thought. She never crossed the line of impropriety of course. But she spoke very openly with Sansa.

And so Sansa knew most of the castle gossips. The maids did not think much of telling them to her, harmless as they thought she was. They indulged her curiosity, and they liked having an in with the lord's daughter, Sansa knew.

Sansa had also continued working on her tapestries.

She had stolen an old dress of her mother's and made it as plain as possible.

Sansa still had a child's body, but she had always been tall.

And with the right fabrics, she could pass off as a small woman.

She had tied her hair back with strips of cloth, had stuffed her chest to make it a little rounder. She had looked almost a woman.

She knew that if anyone looked too closely, they would surely suspect something, for she did not have the hips of a woman, but there was nothing to be done.

Sansa counted on people not seeing what they were not looking for and hoped that she would not be caught out.

Arya had always sneaked around as a child. She was good at getting out, but not so good at staying inconspicuous. She had too much energy to be overlooked.

Sansa had observed her sister, observed how she sneaked about unnoticed - Arya Underfoot.

Then she had employed Jeyne's help. She had been purposely vague and had told Jeyne to cover for her absence. Jeyne must've been suspicious of course, but she was a loyal companion, and Sansa knew she would not question her.

And then Sansa had gone out to Wintertown to sell her wares.

A few people had bought her tapestries. She had not sold all of them, but a substantial amount had been sold.

A kindly woman had asked her of her whereabouts.

'Where are you from then, lass?'

'I'm from the Riverlands. My mother has taken ill and I have come up North to make my fortunes.'

'This is fine work indeed. You should speak to old Alise. She does some mending and sewing work for coin. But her eyes are old and she cannot work as well anymore'

Sansa had listened to the woman but had not approached Alise for quite some time, afraid of being caught.

Other women had also commented on her work. She had steadily continued to sell her wares.

Sansa was getting the coin she needed now, and since she was not buying anything for herself, she was saving all of it securely. She did not need a lot of it to recruit smallfolk. But she knew that she could do better.

Finally she went and met Alise.

'Aye, I've heard of you. I could use the help, lass. These old bones are not as useful'

And so Sansa had taken on more work. She was now spending even less time sleeping.

But there were definite advantages. She had to spend less time in town as she brought her work to the keep and only went into town to drop it off and so there were far less chances of being caught.

And Alise was a treasure trove of information. She knew everything about everyone and did not hesitate in telling all to Sansa whenever Sansa went in.

And now Sansa knew a lot about the residents of Wintertown.

Another advantage was that now most folks recognised her and were not guarded with their tongues at all, thinking of her as their own.

Sansa made sure to not reveal too much information about herself, lest anyone become suspicious. She had had to make up a few lies regarding her place of residence as it was and she was not sure if these lies had been believable.

Sansa was counting on her looks as an innocent maid for people to not pry too much.

Sansa was ashamed at how she started using all the information she gathered, but there was little to be done.

She started blackmail. The man who was keeping a mistress, the two lovers meeting in secret, the woman whose child was not her husband's.

She left notes, essentially threatening exposure. Then she left other notes, promising silence, and money, if information was provided to her.

Many were wary of course. And scared. But what could they do. And once they saw steady coin coming in, and no one came to know their secrets, they started feeling more secure in their positions.

Sansa started getting all sorts of information. Not just about Wintertown, but about all the North.

For the smallfolk knew many people in other keeps - White Harbour, the Dreadfort, Last Hearth, Deepwood Motte, Castle Cerwyn and many others - and they frequently moved about, in search of greener pastures.

More than twelve moons had passed, and Sansa had a shaky but well working spy network in her grasp.

Now, it was time to move further. Sansa knew her little birds could give her much information, but not all.

Sewing and spying was not all that Sansa had done. She had also vastly improved her other skills.

She had continued to work with Jeyne on her numbers. She was not proficient by any means but nor would she be helpless if left by herself.

She had taken pains to learn more of the North. About the geography and the trade. She knew some of course, seeing as she had been Queen. But the North she had ruled was much different from this North. This was all theoretical learning of course. But she was unsure of how to get a practical lesson.

She would require either her Father or Robb and approaching them was not an option.

She had also continued her research into poisons.

Baelish had been accomplished in them and had passed on some knowledge to her, both intentionally and unintentionally.

Sansa did not find the idea of using them appealing, but she knew there might come a time where she had to silence someone.

And poisons were a good choice.

Sansa was not one for combat. She knew she would never be.

Sansa was now encountering a problem once again.

She had done as much as she could by herself. She had a decent spy network, though their reach was only in the North.

She had also sharpened her political skills.

But if she wanted to do more, she would have to recruit others. She could no longer do this alone.

But who to involve? And how much to tell them?

Chapter Text

Sansa kept debating with herself. She wasn't sure who she should tell.

Robb? He would not believe her. And even if he did, he was the heir to Winterfell. There was far too much attention on him.

Robb was also rather hot tempered. She needed someone who would listen to her.

Jon? Perhaps. But here Sansa and Jon had no relationship to speak of. He would not believe her. She could tell him of his mother but he might think her to be japing.

And if Sansa was honest, she did not wish for this secret to see the light of day. It had destroyed everything in her future.

Jon was quite invisible, yes. But he did not have the skills she required. He could not lie to save his life. And his honour would not allow him to develop this skill.

Bran? If he was the three eyed raven then she could have used his help. But here Bran was an innocent child. And she did not wish to burden him.

What Sansa really wished for was to tell her parents and let them take the burden of the world of her shoulders.

But they would never believe her. And even if they did, Sansa knew, that they did not have the skills to play the game of thrones.

They were too honourable and too kind. No, she had to do this.

And she knew who could help her - Arya.

Arya had been an accomplished killer in her future. And she been a good spy and a good actress.

Sansa knew that these were skills that Arya had picked up later. Arya had suffered to learn them.

But some form of them had always existed. Arya had always sneaked around as a child. She just needed some polishing.

And Sansa would be the one to polish these skills for her sister.

Now how to recruit Arya. Sansa knew that she would eventually tell Arya everything.

Arya would be the one to kill the Night King after all.

But if Sansa told her now, Arya would never believe her. They had been very close in her future, had known what the other was thinking without even speaking to each other.

But they were not so here. Arya would not listen to her.

She needed to leverage something. And she knew what she would do.

Sansa sought out Arya after their lessons. She knew Arya tended to spend time with Jon and it was imperative that Jon did not know about this.

Sansa was in luck. Arya was in an abandoned room in the keep, practising her archery. The only reason Sansa even thought to check there was because Arya had favoured this room in her future.

'Arya', called out Sansa.

Arya's senses were not as sharp yet. She startled on hearing Sansa. Her face immediately took on a scowl.

'Are you following me? Do you plan on tattling to mother again?', she asked angrily.

'I don't intend on telling mother anything. I thought that we could come to an understanding', Sansa replied calmly.

'An understanding?', asked Arya, not looking happy in the least.

'Yes, I will cover for you whenever you are practicing. I will help you with your sewing. I will even get mother to lay off of you a little. You must have noticed that no one has teased you for quite some time now', said Sansa.

'And what do you want in return?', asked Arya, looking at her doubtfully.

'Not much for now. But I will later', said Sansa.

'If you think I'll let you hold this over me like this then you must think I'm stupid. It's better if you go and tell mother now. I'm not going to be at your beck and call', replied Arya.

'I promise that I will not blackmail you. Nor will I ask you to do anything you do not want', said Sansa.

'Why would you do this if there's nothing in it for you then?', asked Arya.

'We're sisters, aren't we Arya? And I think we can learn to live together. It's high time we stop fighting', was Sansa's response.

'Okay, I'll think about it', said Arya.

Sansa left after this exchange. She knew Arya well. Arya would agree. She was far too curious to not.

Sansa would teach Arya everything she knew. And Arya would be her in with her parents.

Arya would whisper things in Jon's ear, who would invariably pass it on to Robb. And the ideas would have enough merit that Robb would take them to her father.

And Arya would do better if she had someone in her corner. Arya could be incredibly loyal, Sansa knew. And Sansa loved her sister, however much different they were. And she had missed her.

Arya came to her two days later.

'You will cover me with mother?'

'Yes. And I will teach you sewing.', replied Sansa.

'Sewing's stupid', was Arya's typical response.

'Just because you do not like it does not make it stupid. I'd like to see you survive without clothes, especially in the North. And how do you think wounds are sewed shut. It's the same skill you know', said Sansa, hoping Arya wouldn't be too difficult.

'All right, as long as you promise not to ask me to do anything stupid', said Arya.

'I already said I would not make you do anything you did not want, didn't I?', confirmed Sansa calmly.

And so their arrangement was set. Sansa helped Arya with her sewing.

Arya was truly not terrible. It was not her skill set, sure, but she was decent enough.

Her improvement in this craft meant that Septa Mordane and their mother laid off her a little.

And in response, Arya did her best to not antagonise either.

Sansa and Arya had reduced their arguing quite some time ago but now they stopped completely.

Nobody was too surprised as they had not purposely troubled each other in quite some time.

Sansa also drew attention away from Arya. She would engage her mother in more conversations and keep her away from Arya, leaving her in peace to do as she liked.

Sansa slowly began talking to Arya. She spoke about becoming a lady, which was not something Arya was interested in, but she spoke about observing, about learning from others, about using the information you knew.

Arya had always been smart. And here she was young enough and trusting enough and happy enough to be getting her way to not be too suspicious of Sansa.

She soaked up Sansa's information and soon started asking more questions. About trade and battles and politics.

Sansa told her as much as she could. But she also encouraged Arya to do her own research.

One of the aims was to make Arya resourceful, to make her think for herself. The second was more selfish.

Arya already had an image of a curious child, interested in history and wars.

It was easier for Arya to ask Maester Luwin, and Father, and Mother, and even Robb and Jon, without them thinking much of it, besides her own natural curiosity.

They would indulge her and not ask too many questions in return, which would not happen with Sansa.

And it was important for Sansa to be looked at as a silly child.

And so Arya started passing on all sorts of information to Sansa.

Father proved especially helpful. He had always liked Arya best, had favoured her, had excused her behaviour.

This now served them very well. He spoke to her at length regarding Robert's rebellion, though the talks centered around war policies more than his own family.

He spoke of the North, of who could be trusted and who could not be.

He shared battle strategies and war stories.

And Arya passed it all on to Sansa. Sansa was unsure of how Arya viewed her.

Arya was sharp and so would've definitely picked up on the fact that Sansa was pretending about her interests and skills in songs and stories and romance, at least to a certain extent.

But Arya also seemed to have understood that Sansa wanted to keep things quiet. Arya also did not know the purpose or the seriousness of it all, Sansa was sure.

It was no matter. Arya trusted Sansa, maybe not completely, but enough.

And Arya was loyal. Sansa felt a little of her burden decrease, even by just confiding a little in her sister.

Chapter Text

Ned Stark knew that there was something different in his household.

There were obvious changes of course. Arya and Sansa had stopped troubling each other. Arya had become much more amiable and likely to listen to her mother.

Sansa rarely made Jon feel bad about his origins. Earlier she had always claimed him as her half brother.

Ned knew that Jon had felt hurt. The rest of his siblings had always treated him as one of their own.

Ned knew that Jon longed for Sansa's acceptance. He knew that he had been unfair to Lyanna's boy. He did not deserve his lot in life.

But if Robert found out. Ned couldn't even complete the thought. The bodies of little Rhaenys and Aegon, covered in red, still haunted him.

And it seemed as if Jon's wish might be fulfilled. Not that Sansa was very kind to Jon.

But she had stopped calling him her half brother. Or treating him with scorn.

She largely ignored him. But Ned had seen her looking at him fondly, as if she truly thought him a brother.

Ned didn't understand why she would hide it so. But he knew. It was Cat.

Cat hated Jon. Perhaps hated was a strong word. But she definitely strongly disliked him.

And Sansa had always wanted to please her mother. So Ned could excuse this behaviour.

Even stranger were other changes. Arya spent more and more time with him, asking him all sorts of questions.

Ned indulged her. She was a child. Far too soon she would have to grow up and become a woman. And the world was rather unkind to women. He could be kind for as long as it was possible.

Now Arya was a bright child. But some of the questions she asked were not characteristic of her.

Arya was always more interested in battles and war. But now she started speaking of politics and preparing for the winter.

What was more, even Robb started speaking of the winter.

He had tried to teach Robb. Robb was his heir. He would be Lord of Winterfell one day.

Ned knew however, while Robb was honourable, he was far too much like his brother Brandon.

He was charismatic and people followed him readily. But he did not have enough of the stillness required for ruling.

He had always hoped that Robb would learn. And suddenly it seemed as if he was.

He asked about having enough grain for the winter, if glass gardens could be built in other keeps, about what they would trade for in winter, about trade routes and ports.

Robb was sharp, but he had never been interested in all of this before.

Jon was also different. He had always been moody and brooding, a combination of his natural disposition and his fate in life as a lord's bastard.

Now, it wasn't as if Jon was cheerful exactly. But he seemed more secure.

Ned had even heard a conversation between him and Robb.

'What's this rubbish Arya told me about you joining the Night's Watch, Jon?'

'I am a bastard with no other fortunes to my name. The Watch needs men', Jon had replied in his quiet way.

'The Watch can use men, aye. But you will always have a place by my side, brother. Never say that you have no fortunes, for you will always have my favour', Robb had replied, a little angry.

'Lady Catelyn'

'My mother doesn't like you. But you're my brother. You'll always be my brother, no matter what anyone says, even Mother'

Their voices had become too indecipherable for Ned to understand then. But he had felt a sense of calm at seeing them united.

After all, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

Now Ned had always known that Robb would support Jon. But he had never expected him to speak so frankly of it. It seemed as if Arya had spoken to Robb.

But Arya did not have the wiles to pull it off. It was quite a mystery.

Bran and Rickon were much the same for which Ned was grateful.

Catelyn also seemed calmer, now that she was less worried about Arya.

Things had changed on other fronts too. The constant questions from Arya and Robb had forced him to think more on winter.

Some of their propositions had had merit. He had sent ravens to all the keeps regarding putting away more grain for Winter.

His bannermen had not been very keen, but all knew that winter could be unpredictable and had agreed.

He had also looked into the building of glass gardens. It was not possible in all the keeps, but a few, such as House Manderly and House Karstark had already started building.

He had also thought more about trade. The North did not have much to offer. But timber was in plenty. And the lower kingdoms would pay good price for it, if he negotiated properly.

They also had a few mines, not gold or silver ones, but those with other metals. They could be optimised to get more coin.

They could also supply furs. For now the south did not require furs. But winter was coming and soon they would.

He could convince the other kingdoms to start buying early and boost trade. Catelyn's dowry and relations with the Riverlands would also help in smoothing the trade routes.

Robb had also spoken of rebuilding Moat Cailin. It was a good defense point, Ned had to agree.

But they were only a few years away from winter and could not afford it now. But perhaps, once this winter passed. Yes, it would be a good idea.

He could give it to Bran, or Rickon if Bran married into a family with no sons.

He longed to give Jon a keep of his own also. But Cat would be offended.

Perhaps Queenscrown. It was not the most comfortable of keeps. But Jon was a hard worker. And it was far enough away and small enough that perhaps Cat would not be too angry.

Things had definitely changed in his household these last few moons. Things had changed in the North.

But Ned could not pinpoint the origin of this change. He only hoped it did not point to sinister things yet to come.

Chapter Text

Things were going well. Arya had been quite helpful.

And the two of them were getting along very well.

Sansa had of course continued her spying.

She was however getting concerned. The King would be here in just about a year and Sansa did not know how to deal with it.

She knew that she would have to go to King's Landing. There was no other way.

But what to do about Bran. She knew he had to fall to become the three eyed raven.
But she could not bring herself to do nothing.

He was her brother. She reasoned that if he was supposed to, he would find his path regardless of what she did.

But if there was a chance, even a small one, that she could save him, she would do everything in her power to do so.

The second was King's Landing. She was certain that her father would be caught. He did not know how to play the game.

But she had to save him somehow. Could she convince him to bring Jon along?

It was very risky. If anyone figured out who Jon really was, it would be disastrous.

But Jon could be useful. He could get them away, at least Father and Arya.

Sansa was quite sure, that if it came to it, she would stay behind in the capital. She was the best person to do so after all.

Another was how to bring the nobles into her circle. The North was different. They did not have a very lively court and subsequently, nobles did not come and stay at court for long.

Sansa had not had lady companions as most other ladies in the kingdom.

But it was time to change that. She had to bring those ladies into the fold.

Men often forgot how important women were to their causes. A word here, a compliment there, sharing a little gossip, it all worked in their favour.

Sansa was also selfish. As Queen, she had been surrounded by many able women. Many men had died in the wars and she had felt far more comfortable with women around her.

That is not to say that women could not be savage. Indeed they could be. Cersei. Daenerys. Sansa herself.

But their savagery had never given Sansa physical scars.

And Sansa wanted that companionship, that camaraderie.

These ladies would also give her a lot of information, she knew. Of course, they would try and better their own houses, but that did not mean that they would betray her.

But how to accomplish this? She did not think any of her usual ways would work.

No one would believe that Arya was asking for highborn ladies as companions.

Perhaps the way to do this was to take a simple route. Everything did not always have to be so complicated, now did it.

'Mother, I wished to speak to you', she told her mother, as she went to speak to her in her solar.

'Sansa, what is it?', asked Catelyn.

'I wanted to know why we don't host any noblewomen. I know that most of those south do'

'Well the North is different', said Catelyn, not able to hide the slight dislike in her tone. Sansa knew Catelyn had taken a long time to embrace the North.

'But Mother, surely we could. Oh please say so. It would be just like a song. A beautiful princess and her lady companions', said Sansa.

Catelyn laughed. 'Perhaps we could. I will speak to your father about it'

That was all Sansa had wanted. And she was sure it would happen.

And happen it did.

Her mother informed her about two sennights later that a few noble ladies would be coming to Winterfell shortly.

'Oh who is it mother?'

'Well, we have Alys Karstark, and Wylla and Wynafryd Manderly. The Mormonts are sending two of their daughters. And Meera Reed. Now Sansa, they may not be like you, for some of them are older, but you must promise me that you will treat them all appropriately'

'Yes mother', replied Sansa.

And in what felt like no time at all, the ladies were here.

Alys Karstark, with her pale face and grey blue eyes, the very face of the North. Lyra and Jorelle Mormont, beautiful and fierce, like Lyanna had been.

Wynafryd and Wylla, with her green hair. And Meera Reed. Meera was the oldest, but her steady strength had always made Sansa feel older, not younger.

Sansa felt something settle in her soul at the sight of them. These women would protect her and once they decided so, they would be loyal till death.

Arya fell in with Lyra and Jorelle almost instantly, enchanted by their matter of fact manner.

Sansa for her part made sure to be polite to all. But she personally felt a kinship with Wylla. She knew not why it was so.

But she was sure, Wylla would not let her down.

As time passed, the ladies became closer. They were different from each other. And they did not always get along. But they were the daughters of the North.

Their presence strengthened Sansa, gave her courage. It felt as if this impossible task she had undertaken might just be possible.

The moons passed, Sansa started revealing a little more to her companions. Nothing major. But her companions knew her as an intelligent young woman.

They spoke of politics, of the south, they played cyvasse.

Lyra once came up to her and pressed a dagger into her hand, without a word.
She gave Sansa a look, squeezed her hand and walked away.

And then Sansa knew, these women understood. They did not know, but they understood, and they would stand by her if time came.

One morning, Sansa woke up and just knew. Everything was about to change. Lady was coming home.

Chapter Text

Sansa could feel Lady. But it was muted, muffled. She knew not how she could sense her presence.

She just knew, soon Lady would be with her. This time, Sansa would protect her.

Lady had suffered through no fault of her own. But Sansa was determined that no harm would come to Lady now.

She would not take Lady with her to King's Landing. It would be heartbreaking to leave her behind, but it was necessary.

In just a few days, a raven flew to Winterfell. Jon Arryn was dead. The King was coming to Winterfell.

Sansa had considered what to do about that. She had almost sent a raven to Jon Arryn.

But she knew, that ultimately it would be useless.

Even if he believed her, which he was not likely to, how could she explain how she knew this information.

And she knew Baelish. Once he decided on something, it would always happen.

And her Aunt Lysa was so enamored with him, and so disgusted with her husband, that one way or the other, Jon Arryn would not survive.

Him surviving would not really change anything for her family as it was. It would perhaps delay it, but that was it, for Jon Arryn had to die sooner or later.

And once he died, King Robert would turn to no other than Ned Stark.

And he had always been obsessed with joining their houses. Sansa would have to be Joffrey's betrothed.

As the days passed, Sansa could feel her bond to Lady getting stronger.

And finally one morning, Father announced that he would be going to execute a deserter of the Night's Watch.

Robb, Jon, Theon and Bran were all going along. Arya had also wanted to accompany them.

Sansa longed to hear what the deserter had to say. But she could not go along.

Sweet, naive, innocent Sansa would not want to see a man beheaded.

She would have to get it out of one of her brothers. Jon was probably the best bet.

It would be better to speak more to him as it was. She was planning on asking Father to bring Jon along to King's Landing.

She knew it was incredibly risky. If anyone found out, it would be disastrous. But it had to be Jon.

Robb could not come with them. Theon would not be allowed and she did not trust his loyalty anyway.

Bran and Rickon were too young.

Jon was the best option. As a bastard, he would not grab too much attention but he could also help them get away in a pinch.

Her father and brothers came back, but not alone. Her beloved Lady was with them.

Sansa almost cried the first time she saw her. Sweet, innocent Lady. She would not suffer this time.

Sansa quickly gathered herself. Her siblings were busy with their own pups.

Jon was holding on to Ghost. He was so small. She could hardly believe that this was the same direwolf that had given her comfort in her future.

She approached Jon, unsure of how to speak to him. It had been so easy once. She had known him well then. But here she did not know him, not really.

'What is his name?', asked Sansa, looking towards Ghost.

'Ghost', said Jon, looking surprised that she was speaking to him. She tended to avoid him usually.

'It suits him', replied Sansa.

There was silence then. Jon looked quite confused as to why she had approached him.

'What did the deserter say?', asked Sansa.

'You should not worry over such things Sansa'

'What did he say?'

'He was mad. Or he wanted to excuse his dishonorable actions. He talked about seeing White Walkers'

'White Walkers?', asked Sansa.

'Like I said, he was mad. Do not worry over such things'

'What if he did see something?'

'Don't be scared, Sansa. Nothing will happen to you'

'I'm not scared', said Sansa.

The conversation ended there. They sat in companionable silence before Sansa was called away.

Sansa spent the next few days playing with Lady and having the last bit of fun that she could.

To everyone's surprise, Ghost had taken to following Sansa around.

No one could understand it.

Many a times Jon would come over and apologize for it. Sansa would brush him off by saying that it was not his fault.

Sansa thought that perhaps Ghost recognised their bond from her other life. She knew not how it was possible.

But the direwolves were different.

Her bond to Lady was also much stronger. She could feel her presence almost always.

And at night, she dreamt of hunting and wolves howling. These dreams confused her. They had not been there last time.

Perhaps her bond to Lady was the explanation for it.

Sansa dreaded the day the King would be here. Her ladies had been sent back to their keeps, for there wasn't enough space to house the entire court.

Before leaving, all of them had told her, in some way or other, that they would be there for her.

Lyra and Jorelle had assured that Bear Island would always stand behind Winterfell.

Alys Karstark had almost cried at their parting.

Wynafryd had also been reluctant to go. Wylla, her dear friend, had told her that she would always be loyal to Sansa. This was quite significant because Wylla did not speak of House Manderly, but of herself.

Meera had not left. She had received a raven from her brother, Jojen, that she must stay at Winterfell.

Sansa was sad to see her ladies go, but she knew that these bonds would last her forever.

She was walking into the lions' den, and her family and her ladies, and the smallfolk who would suffer if she were to fail, these would be her strengths.

Chapter Text

It was the day the King would arrive to Winterfell. Her mother had made all of them be on their best behaviour.

She wore one of her best dresses. They would be interested in her anyway, and everyone knew that Sansa wanted to marry a prince.

It would not do to break character now.

This time, Sansa took notice of how everyone reacted. Of how her father seemed almost nervous and unwilling to expose his children to the King.

Of how her mother had a pinched look at the queen's behaviour. Joffrey, and how he tried to show off.

Jaime Lannister was almost unrecognisable. He was an extremely arrogant man here. She hoped he would have the chance to find his honour but she knew not if it was possible.

She had cringed away from Tyrion the last time, thinking him impossibly ugly. But compared to how he had looked in the future, with his nose half gone, here he looked almost handsome.

Sansa pitied him. She had once thought him clever,and he was clever, but there were many other not so desirable attributes to him.

Sansa truly did not know how to react to Cersei. She had idolized her once, wanted to be her, then she had hated her.

Cersei had been cruel to her but she had also taught Sansa some harsh truths of the world.

Sansa was grateful for the lessons but she would always hate Cersei Lannister with all her heart.

Joffrey looked at her with interest and Sansa wanted to poison him. But no, she had to act as if she were flattered, so she looked down, as if embarrassed.

The feast came too soon for her liking. She had entered on Joffrey's arm. For now he was perfectly pleasant. And she had to make sure she kept it that way.

'My Prince, it is such an honour to be escorted by you', Sansa simpered.

Joffrey looked on arrogantly.

'Of course it is, my lady'

Sansa wanted to gag, to push him off. But she had to be Margaery Tyrell here. He had to dance to her tunes.

And she could not be too obvious. Everyone must think of her as a silly girl.

Her father's appointment as Hand and her betrothal was announced at the feast. A cheer went through the room. All Sansa could feel was dread.

At this feast, Arya was surprisingly well behaved. There was none of the unruly behaviour she had shown in Sansa's first life.

She knew she had to speak to Arya.

She went to Arya's chambers after they left the feast.

'I wish to speak to you. We will be required to go south now that I am betrothed to the Prince'

'Am I supposed to come along?', asked Arya, looking distasteful.

'Yes. Listen to me, Arya. The south is not like the North. It is a snake pit, with each person just waiting to prey on you. You have to promise me that you will listen to me while we are in the capital'

'I'm not stupid, Sansa'

'I did not say that. But please, you don't understand. You have to promise.'

' You might fool others with your act. But I know. You are no fool. Why do you hide, Sansa? Do you think I don't understand those questions you make me ask everyone?'

'Arya..'

'No, you listen. I don't know why you're doing it. But I don't think you want to marry the prince at all. He's stupid and you're not stupid. Now I'll listen to you. But you have to be honest'

'I will tell you. Not all of it. And not now. But I promise I will. If you promise to listen to me. Even if I tell you to leave me.'

'I am not leaving you anywhere.'

'Arya, promise me.'

'But..'

'I will try and tell you things. I will be honest, if you do this. This is important.'

'Alright. I promise to listen.'

'We need to leave Lady and Nymeria in Winterfell', said Sansa, hoping Arya would understand.

'I can't leave Nymeria!', exclaimed Arya.

'Arya, the south is no place for a direwolf. And the queen would not take kindly to it. If you don't want harm to come to Nymeria, you will leave her here'

'Fine. Nymeria won't come with us. I'm agreeing to a lot. You have to tell me why you're doing this.'

'Yes I will. Just not now.'

'Alright, but I'll hold you to it.'

One part done, Sansa moved to speak to someone else.

'Jeyne?'

'Sansa, oh what dresses do you think we should take? Oh, I can't believe we're going to King's Landing'

'I wished to speak to you about that.'

'Yes?'

'Jeyne, I do not wish for you to come with us', said Sansa.

'Have I displaced you?', asked Jeyne, looking distraught.

'No, not at all. But the South is not safe. I fear what will happen. I must be honest with you, for you have helped me without question all these years.
It is best if we take as few people south, incase we must make a run for it?'

'Make a run for it?', asked Jeyne, looking bewildered.

'Yes. And I need you here. There will be information that will be coming in, that you must receive. And you must make sure that this information keeps coming in and that you keep it safe'

'Information? What kind of information?'

'Spy reports', said Sansa frankly.

'You will receive spy reports. I will tell you how to receive them, how to pay for them and how to classify the information.'

'You will not be able to contact me in the South. It is too dangerous. You must send a raven to Wylla at White Harbour if you find that the information is too important. She will know how to get it to me'

'Sansa, have you gone mad?'

'Jeyne, the realm is standing on a precipice. We are on the brink of war. And I will not let the North suffer.'

'How do you know all this?', asked Jeyne.

'I cannot reveal that now. But I promise I will. I need you to trust me. I can trust no other with this.'

Jeyne looked confused but then she seemed to straighten herself.

'Yes, you can count on me'

Arya pondered in her sister's words. There was something wrong with Sansa. And Arya was determined to find out.

Once Arya had thought of her sister as stupid, as living in a world of dreams.

But Sansa was the smartest person Arya knew. No one else might believe it.

But if Sansa was saying something, it had to be important and Arya would do her best to help her.

Jeyne's mind was whirring. Spy reports.
If this what Sansa had been doing? But how? And why?

Yes, Jeyne had noticed that Sansa was different but she had not thought of spy reports as the reason.

She did not know what to think. Why would Sansa say such things? Had she gone mad?

No, Sansa was many things. But mad was not one of them. And Sansa had trusted her. She would make sure that that trust was not misplaced.

She had questions, and she wanted to demand answers. But something told her it was not the time for that.

Sansa would tell her when time came. Till then, Jeyne would do her duty.

Sansa knew that she was asking a lot. Of both Arya and Jeyne. She was giving them practically no information and asking them to do something without explanation.

But there was no other way. She could not reveal it all. If it reached anyone else, it would be the end.

She did not doubt that they would not believe her. They had been with her, watched her, for many years.

She knew that they trusted her. She just hoped that they trusted her enough.

Now, she had to save Bran.

Chapter Text

The first thing Sansa had to do was convince her father to take Jon along with them.

She did not think it would be impossible. Jon had given up on thoughts of the Wall after all.

And her father must have been thinking of something for him. If he was thinking of granting him a keep, travelling south would only help.

And the clincher- she knew her mother would not take kindly to having Jon around. And without her father around, Jon might suffer in her presence.

She knew her father would be unwilling but she hoped she could convince him.

She walked to his solar, knowing he would not be with anyone this early in the morning after a feast.

'Father, I would like to talk to you about something.'

'Sansa, come in. Are you happy with your betrothal child? What do you think of the prince?'

'Oh Father, Prince Joffrey is so galant, like from a song', said Sansa, the words feeling like bile in her throat.

Her father looked amused.

'Well then what is it?'

'Father, have you thought of Jon?'

'Jon? What about Jon?'

'Well, he's my brother and I am to be queen. The queen's brother must be planned for, shouldn't he?'

'What do you think then, Sansa?', asked her father, looking as though he were holding in his laughter.

'He should come south with us Father. I know Mother would not be kind to him here. And he can keep Arya in line. Otherwise she's just going to spoil everything', Sansa made sure to keep her tone a little petulant.

'The Queen might be offended by a bastard's presence' replied Ned gravely.

'Oh she won't even notice him Father. She's the queen. She surely has better things to do. The songs, the fashion. I'm sure she wouldn't even realise', said Sansa, knowing very well that Cersei would notice everything and would definitely think it a threat.

'I'll think on it, Sansa. I must speak to Jon as well'

Sansa took her leave after that, knowing she had done all she could. Now she had to speak to Jon to make sure he agreed.

Perhaps she should also tell Arya to nudge him along.

Jon and Arya were actually together when she found them. That was fortunate.

'Jon!', called Sansa.

'Sansa, do you need anything?', asked Jon, hesitantly.

'Oh Jon, you simply must come south with us', she said.

'I don't think that would be appropriate. My place is here, with Robb'

'Oh but Jon, who would protect us in the capital.'

'Why would you need protection, Sansa. Are you afraid of someone? Father will be there. You will be fine.'

'But Father can't always be there. And I couldn't ask him to. Oh Jon, don't tell him I said this, but I am afraid of the capital. I would know no one there. And you are my brother are you not?'

Jon looked touched by her display. Sansa looked at Arya and nodded subtly.

'You should come Jon. I'll be bored silly without you', said Arya.

'I can't just ask to come along like this'

'I've spoken to Father. Just say yes when he asks you. Please Jon. And don't tell him what I told you. I don't want him to think of me as a child', said Sansa, making sure she in fact sounded as much as a child as was possible. She hoped it would sway Jon.

'Alright, if he asks me, I will agree'

Sansa left them to it, relieved that it seemed to be going her way. Now Bran.

Her plan to save Bran was a simple one. There was no need for anything elaborate here anyway.

She simply spent all her time following him around.

A majority of the party had left to go hunting. Once she saw them leave, she took to following Bran around.

She saw Cersei and then Jaime go up the Broken Tower. She saw Bran start to climb.

She yelled loudly.

'Bran! What do you think you're doing? Didn't Mother tell you not to climb while the King was here? I'm taking you to Mother now. She'll straighten you out'

Sansa took him by the hand and led him to their mother. She told her the entire tale.

Mother was livid. She scolded Bran ferociously and he was to be locked up in his rooms for a few days.

Sansa felt bad for doing this to Bran, but it was better than the fate that had befallen him once.

Once Bran was safely in his chambers, Sansa sneaked about to the Broken tower. Cersei and Jaime were nowhere to be seen.

Sansa had succeeded in saving at least one of her family members.

As the day they were to leave Winterfell came closer, she began having even more vivid dreams.

She dreamt that she was Lady, howling and running. Running faster than she ever had before.

These dreams terrified her, confused her. But they also for some reason comforted her.

She knew not whether they were dreams or visions or something else. But it was something to do with her bond to Lady.

And Lady would never harm her.

She had convinced Arya to leave Nymeria behind, but nothing could be done with Ghost.

She could not ask Jon to leave him behind and even if she did, she knew he would not.

She had spoken more to Arya, had told her in very basic terms that she knew some things, things about the future.

Arya had had many questions, very few of which she had been able to answer. But Arya trusted her and the little bit of information was enough for her for now.

There would come a time, Sansa knew, and soon, when she would have to tell Arya everything. But for now, this was enough.

She had also explained the workings of the spy network to Jeyne and made sure she knew what to do.

Sansa doubted any truly urgent information would be coming in. But if it did, Wylla would help her.

She had sent a raven to White Harbour, in code, code which only the two of them knew. They had developed it as a jape, to be able to gossip freely without the others knowing, but now it would be useful.

Almost everything she could accomplish up North had been accomplished, now it was time to turn south.

Sansa had also made sure to speak and spend time with Joffrey. He had to become her creature.

She used the same tricks Margaery had used so long ago. She kept her gaze and smile alluring, seductive.

She touched Joffrey, on the arm, or the shoulder. She made sure to flatter him, but not to seem silly.

It was a delicate balance, for she had to make him interested but she still had to appear as silly as she always had to everyone else, especially to Cersei.

Sansa used her beauty. She was blossoming into her looks now. And Joffrey was just a man. A monster of a man to be sure. But a man nonetheless.

And she was succeeding. He seemed quite inclined to listen to her.

She just hoped her good luck would continue even in King's Landing.

Chapter Text

The day they set off for King's Landing, it was snowing. Sansa took it as a blessing, a blessing from the North itself.

She rode in the carriage with Cersei. She longed to be anywhere else, but knew that it was important to be in Cersei's good books as long as it was possible. Cersei would be out for blood sooner or later as it was.

Sansa was missing Lady terribly. It felt as if part of her had been left behind.

She had hugged Robb and Bran and baby Rickon, not knowing whether she would ever see them again.

Even if she did not, she vowed that they would live.

Cersei engaged her in conversation. Sansa was already exhausted. Fooling Cersei was much more difficult than fooling her family.

When they stopped at the Crossroads Inn, Sansa made sure to keep Arya close to her.

The journey thankfully passed without any incident. As they passed the inn and nothing happened, Sansa grew more confident that she could do this.

King's Landing came near far sooner than she would have liked. The city smelled as bad as it always had. The smallfolk looked miserable.

As soon as they reached, her father was called away. Sansa took over, making sure their belongings were put away in the tower of the Hand.

All Sansa had to do here now was to behave as she always had. There was another issue however.

Being in the Red Keep had triggered something within her. She began suffering from nightmares.

They were all types of nightmares. She saw Joffrey and Ilyn Payne cutting off her father's head. She saw the Kingsguard beating her.

All of her childhood fears manifested into her nightmares. She woke up gasping almost every night.

And this complicated things. Because now Arya was very concerned. And she started asking all manner of questions.

She was not sure what to tell Arya. Should she tell her that she had visions? Or tell her the truth?

What even was the truth?

Had she travelled back in time or travelled to another world?

Well, it didn't matter really now did it? All that mattered was that she was back.

She agonised over her decision but eventually decided to tell Arya the truth. She couldn't hide this from her sister, not anymore.

Once her Father was gone and Jon was busy in the training yard, Sansa approached Arya.

'I have to speak to you, Arya. But no one can hear us'

'Have you finally decided to tell me what's wrong then? Come along then, I know a place', replied Arya.

She led her down and down and into some passageways Sansa had never seen before.

'What is this place?', she asked.

'Secret passages. I found them when I was exploring. This is relatively safe. No one should hear us.'

'Are you sure, Arya? This is important'

'There is a small chamber here. No one knows about it'

'All right. I trust you.'

'Okay, tell me then. What's wrong with you?', asked Arya.

'You know that I have been behaving differently. I have seen all of this before'

'All of this? What do you mean?'

'I mean that all of this has happened before. Only then I didn't know anything. I was a stupid child. And then, Father died'

'Father died! What are you saying Sansa?', exclaimed Arya.

'Father died and then Robb and Mother. And then I was sold off to a monster. Jon saved me. And then they came'

'Who came? You're not making any sense!'

'The White Walkers'

'You have gone mad, Sansa. The White Walkers aren't real.'

'They're real. I saw them. They are death itself. And then we won against them and the Dragon Queen burned everything. And then I was finally content, finally home. But no, I was sent here. And I was happy Arya, really I was. But I'm so exhausted', said Sansa.

'Calm down! You're not making any sense. Father died and Robb and Mother and then the White Walkers came?'

'Yes'

'What do you mean you came back?'

'I mean, I lived through it all. And then I woke up as a child once more. So I decided, I would do anything to stop it. Anything, Arya. I mean it'

'How can Father die?', asked Arya, looking confused and lost.

'Joffrey killed him. He told me he would show him mercy and then he cut his head off and made me look at it and told me that was mercy!'

'And Mother? Robb?'

'Oh Gods, Arya! They killed him. Slit mother's throat and threw her in the river. Sewed Grey Wind's head into Robb's body!'

'And Bran? Rickon? Jon?'

'Bran, he became something else. The three eyed raven he called it. I do not fully understand it. Rickon was killed. And Jon, Jon saved me'

'And what about me? Where was I when all of this was happening?', asked Arya.

'I do not know all of it. But you were alive. You came back. And you helped'

'So what do we do now?', asked Arya matter of factly.

'So you believe me then?'

'I believe that you believe it. And if you're wrong, then so be it. But if you're right, then we have to do something. And you're the smartest person I know. So I'll trust you. Winter is coming. And if even a little bit of what you say is true, then I'll do everything to help you'

Something settled within Sansa. She slept peacefully that night after a long time.