Hi there! Basically, Sansa Stark is my favourite character in ASOIAF, and I really have this sort of ridiculous hope/desire to see her avenge her family. As much as I doubt this will happen in the novels, I just really wanted to see it on paper (or a computer screen!) so I've decided to write this, which is basically my dream. All reviews are welcome, but since I'm writing this only for me, I probably won't take into account any timeline corrections (this is AU for me) or any plot suggestions. If things don't match up, so be it. It's more for me than anyone else, and I've just decided to share it anyway.
All characters belong to GRRM (with the exception of any I've made). I know he hates fanfiction, but I can't resist.
Lastly, this is for Sansa, and here's hoping she will get her vengeance.
PS. There may be an appearance of our favourite… ahem… dog, very soon!
PPS. Feel free to review. I love to read them, very much, and they will probably inspire me to keep going/uploading my chapters.
The chilly, biting Eyrie wind whistled through the open window and whipped at the hair of Sansa Stark. She glanced up and stared out into the clouds for a few moments before she sighed, got to her feet and pulled it shut.
Her hands went to her hair where she brushed it back, and glanced at her reflection in the looking glass. The Tully auburn was beginning to show quite badly at the roots. It will have to be dyed again soon, she thought solemnly. When Lord Baelish returns from the Fingers.
'Lady Alayne.'
She turned to see Maester Colemon.
'There has been a party arrived to see the Lord of the Vale. Lord Robert requests that you accompany him.'
'A party? From where?' she asked nervously, her thoughts immediately went to Cersei. Surely the Queen would not think to look for me here.
'I am unsure,' said the maester. 'I believe Lord Selwyn Tarth's daughter Lady Brienne heads it.'
Sansa visibly relaxed. 'I will come,' she said, brushing off her skirts and attempting a grim smile.
She followed the maester to the High Hall, where Robert sat on the weirwood throne. She shivered in the cold, and drew her shawl tighter about her shoulders. As approached the throne, Robert got up and then quickly insisted upon sitting on her lap.
Sansa nodded to the maester to show the party in.
A woman dressed in heavy armour with a grim look on her stout face entered. She was unlike any woman Sansa had ever seen before. A great deal taller than usual, and with no trace of beauty or grace in her features or figure. A wary-looking, skinny boy accompanied her. A few sellswords followed.
'Lady C—' the woman stopped abruptly and bowed low to her, and her party followed suit.
What was she going to say? Sansa wondered.
'I believe you are Lord Robert,' she addressed Sweetrobin, who glanced up at Sansa.
'He is,' she said. 'May I inquire as to why you have come?'
She vehemently wished she had covered her hair with the shawl before the woman's arrival, to hide the auburn.
'I have been charged with a quest to find Lady Sansa Stark.'
Sansa felt her heart beat hard against her ribs. This is it, she thought. The Queen knows where I am.
'We harbour no criminals here, Lady Brienne,' she said, inflecting calmness into her voice. 'Who has sent you to look here for Lady Sansa?'
Sansa watched Brienne's face carefully as she saw the woman consider. 'Lady Catelyn Stark.'
She nearly stood up in shock. But then she felt the familiar dull ache in her heart and she took a steady breath. 'Lady Stark is dead.'
'She charged me with finding her daughter before she died,' Brienne continued. 'I was her sworn sword. I intend to see it through… I must ensure her daughter is found alive and see to her safety.'
She knows, Sansa thought. She knows exactly who I am. She nearly called me by my mother's name the moment she walked in.
Sansa stared at the woman for a few moments longer and then she glanced at Maester Coleman.
'I will talk privately with Lady Brienne in my solar,' she said, getting to her feet, despite the protests of Sweetrobin. 'I will return,' she promised him, which appeared to pacify him.
'Thank you, my Lady,' said Brienne, as the maester led her away.
'See to it that Lady Brienne's companions are fed and watered,' she said to nobody in particular, but the household appeared to spring to life.
She walked the corridor back to her solar, wondering what she would say to this woman who had made a promise to her mother to find and protect her.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
'Would you like a drink, Lady Brienne?'
'Water, please.'
Sansa poured a cup of chilled water and passed it to her. She gestured to the chaise. 'Please, sit.'
Brienne sat, looking uncomfortable as she did, and sipped the water gracelessly. She peered at her over the rim for a time, while Sansa did her best to avoid her eye.
'You know who I am,' Sansa said.
'You're Lady Stark's daughter,' Brienne answered. 'You look very much like your mother.'
Sansa smiled sadly. 'I have been told.'
'My Lady, you must accompany me,' Brienne asked. 'You must leave this place. This is not your home, you are not safe here.'
Sansa glanced up at her. 'I cannot leave. Lord Baelish would never allow it.'
'He does not own you, my Lady,' Brienne told her seriously. 'Where is Lord Baelish?'
'He returns in five days,' Sansa said hopelessly. 'He has gone to settle affairs at the Fingers and then he will return.'
'We have time enough to leave then,' said Brienne. 'If we act quickly, we can be gone before he returns.'
Sansa stared at the ground. She could not trust a hope. It was what had brought her here in the first place.
'You don't know Lord Baelish,' she said. 'If he were to discover us, you and your companions would be killed.'
'You don't understand how valuable you are, do you, my Lady? You are his desperate grasp on Winterfell.'
Sansa swallowed the painful lump in her throat at the thought of Winterfell, empty and burnt to the ground. She would not cry. Brienne's face softened but Sansa only sat up straighter.
'Winterfell is in ruin and my family are dead or lost,' said Sansa. 'You may think me pathetic, Lady Brienne, but it is silly to trust such a dream.'
'I will help you, my Lady. In your mother's memory.'
Sansa stared at the woman. Nobody had offered themselves to her so honestly before. She could see the firm defiance in Brienne's face. Sansa noticed what a lovely pair of eyes she had.
'Your brother was King in the North, no matter what the southrons say,' said Brienne firmly. 'On his death, you became a queen.'
Sansa shook her head firmly. 'I'm sorry you have come all this way for nothing, Lady Brienne. But it is impossible.'
'It is not impossible,' Brienne tried to assure her. 'I promise. I will not rest until you are safe. Allow me to fulfil your mother's wishes, my Lady, I beg you.'
There was a long pause before Sansa answered. 'You will help me leave this place?'
Brienne nodded solemnly. 'I'll swear it, my Lady.'
'There is no need for that,' said Sansa.
'As you would, my Lady.'
'We must summon the Lords Declarant and reveal to them Lord Baelish's dishonesty. We must protect Lord Robert from him. By maternal right I am the Lady of the Vale until Robert is of age, and I must protect him.'
Brienne nodded, getting to her feet. 'We will make arrangements,' she said solemnly.
'Yes,' said Sansa. 'We will.'
In the evening, after word had been sent to the Lords Declarant and Sansa had seen that Brienne and her company had adequate lodgings, she retired to her room, only to be followed into bed by Robert.
'You aren't going to leave, are you?' Robert asked her fretfully.
She stroked his hair to soothe him. 'I must leave, Sweetrobin, but I will only be gone for a little while. I am to only go home for a little while, and when I return, I shall bring you a fine present, how does that sound?'
He shook in her arm and nodded passively.
'There,' she said softly. 'What a good boy you are. To leave, I must take some of our men, some of our soldiers, but they will return soon, too. But I will make sure you are well protected while I am gone. I will, I promise.'
He only shook more and Sansa continued to stroke his hair gently as she wondered.
On the third day, they had prepared for their journey. The Lords Declarant had arrived to protect Robert, and she had divulged her secret. As he had agreed, Robert granted her a majority of the Vale's men for her safe passage to Winterfell.
Sansa had made promises to each of the men she knew to be in the service of Lord Baelish and offered them twice his price, as well as any future offers. They had been only too happy to oblige. A few of them even declared their intent to join her company.
Once she had removed the tearful Sweetrobin from her skirts, they began their journey.
And so they made their descent.
Brienne was often a silent companion, and Sansa often took the time to wonder what it was that the older woman was thinking. She could only have been about five or six years older than Sansa herself. She was kind, and surprisingly gentle, but steadfast.
They had been on the road for three days, and Sansa was beginning to wonder if Lord Baelish had sent someone after them. She hoped not, but she knew he would be angry to lose his prize.
Their party was not small. With the knights that had pledged themselves to accompany her, and the men she had requested from Robert, as well as Brienne, her companion, Podrick Payne and her sellswords, they numbered nearly a hundred.
Each night when they made their camp, she would sit in her tent until Brienne joined her, when the woman would tell her stories of her childhood, and how she had come to be in service of Sansa's mother and news of the kingdom.
'My Lady?' Brienne asked on the third night, as they sat together in the tent while Sansa broke her bread.
She glanced up and nodded to indicate she was listening.
'My Lady, have you given any more thought to what I said the first day we met? That you might assume your brother's title and fight to reclaim Winterfell?' Brienne asked softly.
Sansa stared at her for a moment. 'I have tried not to think of it,' she said finally, after swallowing her mouthful of bread. 'My brother died for that title, my mother with him, and most of his noble bannermen.'
'Your brother was betrayed,' said Brienne evenly. 'He was killed at the scheming of the Boltons and the Freys with the Lannisters.'
Sansa sighed. 'I am not a queen.'
'My Lady, you hold all the graces of a queen, you have noble blood, and your brother declared himself king like the Starks of old,' said Brienne. 'Why shouldn't you take back your holdings and seek vengeance for your brothers, your mother and your father?'
With sad glance at Brienne, Sansa laid down her food and turned her body away. 'No good will come of it,' she insisted.
'I will help you, my Lady,' Brienne promised. 'We could ride to the Dreadfort first and deal with Lord Bolton and his bastard. Flay them alive, if need be.'
Sansa turned to her, hesitant. 'We don't have the numbers to take the Dreadfort.'
'The Knights of the Vale are far better than any man of the Dreadfort. We have discipline and skill, my Lady. And the grace of the gods,' said Brienne. 'It can be done.'
Sansa stared at her. 'Do you mean it?' she asked.
The older woman nodded. 'I do,' she said solemnly. 'I mean for you to ride to the Twins after for the bodies of your brother and his men. There, we may rescue your uncle and then we will have the Tully men, too, if we break the siege of Riverrun.'
Sansa's solemn face appeared to give way, and her eyes shone with a tentative hope. 'It really could be done,' she said. 'Couldn't it?'
'It could, my Lady.'
She stood and wrung her hands. 'Assemble the men. I will tell them my intentions and ask them to fight for me. Tell the sellswords they shall be rewarded.'
'As you command,' said Brienne.
As Brienne stood to leave the tent, Sansa caught her arm. 'Brienne… thank you.'
Brienne bowed her head and quickly slipped from the tent.
Sansa shook visibly, and took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. There was every chance these men would laugh in her face at her claim. Her breathing relaxed somewhat with every minute that passed. She smoothed her skirts nervously, before she headed to the opening of the tent.
There, she saw that Brienne had assembled her men… the beginnings of her army. They stood and watched her expectantly. What would a queen say, she wondered? She thought firstly of her mother, and smiled slightly. Then she thought of Cersei, and then Margaery. What would each of them say? You are none of them, she thought. You are Sansa. You will make them love you.
'You are brave men of the Seven Kingdoms, and it is my honour to be in your company,' she began, hesitantly at first.
'Hear, hear!' one of the sellswords called, and she smiled at him.
'As the sister and heiress of my late brother, I have inherited the North by right. He died as a Stark, as King in the North, and I have inherited his title. I ask each of you to fight for me! I ask each of you to help me seek vengeance! I will not rest until I have the heads of every Bolton and Frey to betray my brother! When I was in King's Landing, Joffrey made me look at my father's head on a spike. Well, I will not rest until I see Joffrey's head on a spike, and his mother's, too! I will take back what is mine by right, and I will reclaim my brother's title. We will show them what it feels like to lose what you love!'
'Hear, hear!' a few more sellswords called.
'The Queen in the North!' one of the knights called.
'The Queen in the North!' a few others joined him.
'The Queen in the North!' Brienne roared with them.
'The Queen in the North!' the sound was ear-splitting. More than a hundred voices joined together to claim her title for her. 'The Queen in the North!'
Joffrey was never a true king, she thought sombrely. He had to remind his people that he was their sovereign; they never remembered it or chanted his title for him. Nobody was loyal to Joffrey but his mother. She smiled, but a determined fierceness and sadness shone through. My family should be here, she thought finally.
They travelled for several more days, until one evening Brienne brought one of the sellswords before Sansa.
He knelt before her. 'Jaspyr, your Grace.'
'Rise,' Sansa told him. 'What is it?' she asked, half of Brienne and half of the sellsword.
'I have news of the east that may be of import to your Grace,' he said, his accent wavering in and out of his speech.
Sansa glanced at Brienne quickly and then nodded to the man. 'You'd best tell me then, ser.'
'I'm no "ser",' said the man. "I was born and raised in Qarth, but I found frequent passage to and from the city on a merchant ship carrying silk. That way, I trained in sword and could provide money for my mother who struggled with debts.'
'Tell your story,' said Brienne impatiently.
'Last I was in Qarth, the thirteen had a very important guest, your Grace,' said Jaspyr. 'Princess Daenerys Targaryen, only she's styled herself as rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and Khaleesi of her Khalasar. Only, the Khalasar didn't look like much to me, only a few good warriors. Only, your Grace, she has dragons.'
'Dragons?' breathed Sansa. Dragons hadn't been seen in the Seven Kingdoms for hundreds of years. 'Are you sure?'
'Very sure, your Grace. One of the Thirteen wanted to marry her so he could take one of them, but she didn't marry any of them.'
Sansa stared at him for a few moments. 'And why have you told me?'
'Could be you wanted to know,' said Jaspyr. 'What do I know what's of importance to a queen? She has plans to retake the Seven Kingdoms. Seems to me that'd be the business of anyone, whether Queen in the North or the bastard son of a fishmonger.'
'Who else have you told?' Sansa asked.
Jaspyr looked unsure. 'I might have mentioned it at one or two inns. Nowhere where there was anybody important listening.'
The spider has spies everywhere, she remembers. 'Somebody will have heard. Stories of this nature travel very quickly.' Sansa turned her gaze to Brienne. 'The question is, why does nobody else appear to be concerned?'
Brienne looked unsure. 'It could be that nobody else has heard, your Grace. Last the Lannisters heard; I think Daenerys was just a whispered threat across the Narrow Sea. King Robert wanted her dead. I suppose whoever he sent didn't get the job done. Perhaps Cersei Lannister has sent somebody to do it properly.'
'Brienne!' cried Sansa. 'We are still talking of a girl only a few years older than I am. It was her father who was the Mad King, not her.'
'What do you suggest we do then, your Grace?' asked Brienne. 'It seems she is closer to Westeros than anybody first thought. And with dragons at her back… It's certainly concerning.'
'You may go,' Sansa told the sellsword, who bowed his way out of the tent.
She took a gulp of water from one of the skins and sat down. 'Has anybody else sent word to Daenerys, do you think?' she asked Brienne.
'I'm not sure, my L—your Grace,' said Brienne. 'I'm doubtful. I believe everyone to call themselves King or Queen is too preoccupied with the war.'
'Do you know anything else of her?' asked Sansa. 'Anything of her nature, of her plans?'
Brienne shook her head. 'I only know her brother essentially sold her to a khal. They travelled for some time, to where, I do not know. He got her with child, and then killed her brother. He was injured in some way or another, and died, while her child was stillborn. It appears that somehow she has acquired dragons, and leads the remnants of her husband's Khalasar. They would be very few, your Grace.'
Sansa sighed. 'She has the last three dragons in the world, Brienne. She could buy an entire army with just one.'
'Yes, your Grace, I suppose she could.'
'I want word sent to her,' said Sansa eventually. 'We will choose one of the knights. He will find passage on a trade ship and follow word of her. I want some sort of proposal drawn up. It appears she is a very real threat, and when she returns—'
'Not when, if,' Brienne interjected.
'It is a matter of time. When she returns, I would rather the North be on her right side,' Sansa finished.
'Yes, your Grace,' Brienne agreed.
'I want Ser Eirwun to do it,' said Sansa. 'He must handle it delicately. We must ensure Daenerys knows our good intentions towards House Targaryen.'
Brienne nodded stoically.
'That will be all,' said Sansa, softly. 'I am very tired.'
With a bow, Brienne was gone from her tent.
Sansa wrapped her furs around her shoulder and lay on the sleeping mat quietly. She could feel tears brimming at her eyes already. It did not seem right for her to have to make these decisions. Is this how Robb felt? she wondered. To have to make these choices that should have been our father's? These choices should be Robb's not mine. If he had only lived, Lord Baelish could have taken her to him and her mother… Lord Baelish wouldn't have taken me, though, she thought sadly.
She rolled over and prayed for sleep.
She rose early the next day to see off Ser Eirwun. He was gracious to her, and handsome, too. She wondered that if she had been younger she might have met him at some tourney and given him her favour. It all seemed so trivial now.
Sansa had been unable to sleep well that night, and had got up to write a letter to this Daenerys, who styled herself as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She wondered if the girl had inherited her father's madness, or had been turned savage by her time as a Khaleesi. Essos seemed so far away, so distant, yet she knew it was only a stretch of water that separated them.
In her letter, Sansa had included condolences for the loss of her husband and son, as well as tentative support for her claim to the Iron Throne. She had tried to write like a queen – to imagine Margaery writing such a letter – attempting to inflect kindness but assertiveness into her words. She hoped they would not be lost.
'You have my deepest thanks, Ser Eirwun,' she told him warmly. 'Find Daenerys and pass on this letter to her. Do anything you can to win her favour. We will need it before the end.'
Ser Eirwun nodded firmly and smiled at the young queen. 'I will do my best, your Grace, to convey your kindness and empathy to her.'
'That is all I can ask,' said Sansa.
She watched on as he took his handsome, saddled stallion, mounted it and galloped off. She watched on until he was lost to distance, and she could no longer make out his silhouette.
'Your Grace, we draw nearer to the Twins each day that passes,' said Brienne. 'I am not sure we could take them with a hundred men.'
Sansa smiled at Brienne encouragingly. 'Lord Frey will have pledged his men to the Lannisters. The Twins will be poorly defended. He will think his walls impenetrable.'
'What are you going to do?' Brienne asked.
With a smile, Sansa touched the older woman's arm. 'I intend to kill the Freys either way, but I will send our best man in, claiming to be a Lannister. He will invoke the guest right, and stay the night. During the night I'll have him kill the guardsmen at the gate, and let us in from the inside.'
Brienne looked worried. 'What if it doesn't work? What if our man is killed? Your brother and mother had the guest right, and Lord Frey slaughtered them anyway.'
Sansa considered her for a moment. 'Do you have a better plan, my Lady?' she asked. 'If we besiege them, the full Lannister force will take us from the rear before I can do anything at all and all of our men will be lost. If I wait for Northmen that may not answer my call at all, we will be discovered by some scout or another and killed. So, my Lady, what do you suggest?'
Brienne nodded reluctantly.
'Besides, I know it will work,' said Sansa. 'I intend to send you.'
There we have it. Chapter one all done. As I said, really, it's just for me, but I thought other people might enjoy it. If you have, shoot me a review (please, I love them), and if not, sorrynotsorry. Thanks for reading. x
