Sansa enjoyed her visits to London, especially in early Spring, before the city became humid. She had spent the morning walking through Holland Park, admiring the tulip magnolias and enjoying the crisp, April weather. She had had lived here for a few years in the Sixties and Seventies, before the government of Edward Heath expelled her husband for espionage. This time, the pair had returned for a more pleasant task. Dmitri was now Deputy Foreign Minister of the Russian Federation. This would be his last function before retirement . They would present the Medal of Ushakov to survivors of the Arctic Convoy. In the Embassy's State Room, the pair greeted a dozen veterans, and a few more family members who were attending on behalf of those too infirm to travel. She was fortunate to be in good health, still, at the age of seventy nine. She'd managed to give up smoking after leaving active service, or else, she doubted she would ever have lived this long. Five years after Beria's fall, she had been transferred to the reserves with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, after giving birth to her first daughter.

Her husband greeted a blonde, middle aged, woman who had travelled from Durham, Elaine Bradwell. "My father's too old to travel, now" she explained, "but he was chuffed to be offered this medal. It was years before our own government even recognised the Arctic Convoys."

"I'm not sure we could have won the war, without people like your father, bringing in supplies" remarked Sansa. "My parents and sister were trapped in Leningrad. They would have starved, as so many did, without the Convoy."

"I heard Russian women fought in the army. Did you? Where?"

"Stalingrad, Belarus, Germany."

"My wife had something of a reputation, during the war" commented Dmitri. "They called her "The Red Wolf" in the army's newspaper. " The nickname still brought her pleasure. She was reminded of it, from time to time, when she was invited to speak at military functions. If she were still alive, next year, she would be a guest of honour of President Lukashenko, when his government celebrated the sixtieth anniversary of their country's liberation, before the Monument of Victory in Minsk.

"You must have some tales to tell" commented Elaine.

"Not all of them tales I'd want to share" she replied, exchanging a glance with her husband. "I'm happy to say, I spent the last years of my military career in complete obscurity. I'd had enough adventures by then. After that, I had three children to bring up. I'm glad our two countries can be friends again, as we were in the War.

"Stan has nothing but praise for your people's courage." Sansa smiled again.

She and her husband moved on to the next recipient, an eighty five year old man, whose ship had been torpedoed. Most of his comrades had been drowned, but he'd survived in a lifeboat, before being rescued. She thanked him for all he had done. He seemed guilty at having survived the war , when most of his comrades had died. She understood that feeling all too well. Most of her fellow soldiers from the 1077th had perished at Stalingrad.

Bulganin had kept faith with her, after Beria was overthrown. She had met her former master just the once, after his overthrow. Bulganin gave her command of a battalion as promised, fifty miles from Moscow. In peacetime, she had had little enough to do, but that suited her well. At the end of the year, however, she had received abrupt orders to return to the Defence Headquarters in the city, very early in the morning. She remembered her arrival at the building, still in pitch darkness. It was still some hours before the Sun would emerge for a brief time. The weather was freezing, as usual. Snow fell heavily, and she was thankful for her greatcoat and fur hat. She was accompanied by Dubretskoi, now promoted to Junior Lieutenant. She was led through the building to an inner courtyard, illuminated by portable lamps. Marshal Zhukov was waiting for her.

"The rat has been found guilty by the Supreme Court, and sentenced to death. I can think of no one more suitable to carry out the sentence than you." She laughed inwardly at the irony. Six months ago, she was on the point of being shot. After thirty minutes or so, the condemned man was led into the courtyard. He looked daggers at Zhukov, and then pleadingly at her. His arms had been pinioned to his side, and he was forced to his knees before her. She stared down, before pronouncing:

"Comrade Beria, the Supreme Court of the Soviet Union has found you guilty; of espionage, of treason, of counter-revolutionary activity, of murder, and of rape. For these crimes, the sentence is death. The Court has further decreed that you be stripped of all military and civil honours. Have you anything to say before the sentence is carried out: " She'd expected curses, abuse, spitting fury and hatred. Instead the man began to weep softly before her. "Spare my life", he begged. "You know these charges are false. Please Sansa" he looked up appealingly "I always did right by you. I brought you into this game. I arranged your promotions. I spared your sister. I would never have harmed her. " She felt a wave of fury at that last lie, even as she noticed a dark stain appear on the front of his trousers. Dubretskoi gave a sound of disgust, beside her. She drew her pistol, as the man screamed, high-pitched. "Sansa, I beg you. Don't have the death of an innocent man on your conscience!" She fired into the man's forehead, and he collapsed backwards into the snow, a pool of blood spreading out behind his head. "And, that's the end of that" remarked Zhukov. "Between you and me, Sansa, our bosses have reached a tacit agreement. None of them will die now, if they fall out of favour. The worst they'll face is being sent to run a power station in the Far East. But, this fucker had to die. Take him away" he commanded his men, who picked up the corpse.

She had felt nothing but satisfaction at killing Beria. At least now, she could live with herself, once again. She still felt shame at some of her actions, but time was a healer. After being released, unharmed, Arya had made a successful career as a chemist. She had sadly passed away, the previous year. Much to her surprise, she had met the woman who had once been Daenerys Targaryen, on her last visit to London, a decade previously, at the Orthodox Cathedral of Dormition. White-haired, but still striking, she now lived in Kensington, and looked after a brood of grandchildren. The two of them had kept in touch, and planned to have lunch tomorrow at Quaglino's.

She who had been the Queen Who Lost the North, and ruled as a monstrous tyrant, had been given a second chance. it was, she knew, far better than she had ever deserved.

Notes:

1. This is poetic licence on my part. The first Medals of Ushakov were awarded to veterans of the Arctic Convoys in 2013, not 2003. But, that would make Sansa 89, so I brought it forward by ten years. Elaine Bradwell is my step sister in law. Her father, Stan, was indeed awarded the Medal of Ushakov, but he was too old to attend the ceremony, and she went on his behalf. It is the top Russian (formerly Soviet) naval medal.

2. Operation Foot in 1971, saw 105 Soviet diplomats expelled from the United Kingdom.

3. Beria was executed by a bullet through the head, on 23rd December 1953, in reality, by General Pavel Batitsky. By all accounts, he was weeping and crying for mercy.

4. The Cathedral of Dormition is in Kensington. Quaglino's is a fabulously expensive restaurant in St