Hello everyone!

Considering some of the reviews I've had so far, I think I need to give you a warning: this story will be extremely AU. I'm talking like very little canon events except for some of the events of the pilot episode and not even the same timeline (especially concerning Daenerys and Viserys).

Now that that's been said, here is a new chapter! One that will change the dynamic of the Starks I think.
I hope you enjoy it, please review!

Enjoy!

Part I.5: Cycle of the Stranger

The Stranger takes the life away,
when us men have done our day.
His sweet kiss leads us on his way,
and he kills the little children.

Robb had immediately been taken with Wynafryd Manderly. He pretended, at breakfast the morning after they came back to Winterfell, that it was only because he was trying to be a good heir of Winterfell, that it was his 'duty'. But for once, Sansa agreed with Theon when he made fun of her brother's blushing cheeks. Her brother was smitten with the young mermaid after only a few hours in her company. It would be good if they could be married before Jon Arryn is killed. Better still, it would be good if Jon Arryn was not killed. That night, she went to the Sept of Winterfell and prayed to the Stranger, so that he would not take the Hand of the King as he had once.

Jon was brooding. He had been since they talked after her nightmare, though he had also clang to her more. Shadowing her everywhere, in silence. She knew he had not had time to talk to her father yet. But his clinging aggravated a problem she already had. Septa Mordane had no doubt talked to her mother by now and a 'bastard' around her would not help her case. Surely enough, Lady Catelyn called her eldest daughter from the balcony with a glare towards Jon.

Sansa sighed and took the path towards the keep. When she pushed the heavy door to her mother's sitting room, she felt her angry gaze on her. Septa Mordane was there, it annoyed her but was to be expected, that Septa Sofia was there too angered her, the woman was no one to them.

"Sansa, can you explain to me why you behaved as a savage on this trip?" Her mother hissed.

"I don't understand what you mean, Mother. How have I been a savage?" She replied innocently but firmly.

"Don't play this game with me, Sansa. You know exactly what I mean." Her mother started taping her foot on the ground. A sign that she was growing angrier and more impatient.

"I don't." Sansa retorted. "I have heard no complaint from Lord Hornwood, nor Lord Cerwyn or Lord Manderly. The guards haven't said a thing either and Father seemed pleased with the way my tour went." She enumerated seeing Septa Mordane glaring at her.

"You know why we say that, child. You have refused to travel in the carriage, leaving me alone! You spoke to the Lords without my presence and you skipped most of your prayers." The religious woman stated.

"I offered you to ride beside me, Septa. You chose to remain alone." Sansa raised a disdainful brow.

"Sansa! That would not have been proper!" Her mother cried.

"To ride? Northern ladies ride all the time. Wynafryd was happy to ride beside me. The carriage on the bad northern roads only slowed us down!" She retorted. "As for you other reproaches, I have not offended any lord, in fact, I think they were happy to talk to a Stark for once. And I prayed in the Godswood whenever possible, I went to the sept with you in White Harbour. Is it my fault if there was no sept elsewhere?" She challenged.

"That is not even the point, Sansa! You disrespected Septa Mordane." Her mother – very classically – ignored the rational arguments and sided with the opinion she already had before Sansa even entered the room.

"How?" Sansa asked frustrated. "By not listening to every word she said? I am sorry if I offended you Septa, but where do you come from?" She asked the woman directly. It was clear she had not anticipated that question.

"I come from a small village. Near Cider Hall, in the Reach." The septa answered automatically.

"You left your village for Oldtown to become a Septa. Then you were sent to Riverrun to assist my mother and you followed her to Winterfell. Is that correct?" She nodded. "And the journey you made with me was the first time you left Winterfell since you arrived in the North. Correct?" Another nod. "In summary what you know of the North you've either read in books or heard in the various places where you've lived." There was no more point to nodding. "How then would you be qualified to tell me how to behave in the North? A place where aside from Winterfell and White Harbour, the Seven are not worshipped and the customs are notoriously different from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Sansa that is enough." Her mother intervened.

"No, Mother, I would like to know why! I am only eleven so maybe there are things that I do not understand, but I fail to see how Septa Mordane, no matter how knowledgeable she is, could teach me how to be a northern lady! The same way I do not understand how a woman sworn to celibacy can somehow teach me about marital duties." She had had enough of the mascarade that her mother forced her to live. "Or how we are supposed to be good Starks when all we have ever learned from Septa Mordane is that our bannermen's family have savage practices. I am truly sorry Septa Mordane but I do not think you really understand this place. In fact, Mother, I'm not sure you do either." She felt the slap on her cheek. A burning sensation with a sting. She had been slapped before, by Ser Meryn Trant, by Joffrey, by Aunt Lysa, by Ramsay, but her mother never raised a hand to her.

"You will be punished young lady." Her mother announced, her eyes fuming.

"Very well, Mother." She steeled herself. "I will go now." She ignored her mother's indignation as she turned on her heels. She did not answer when her name was called. She walked away, with one aim in mind.

She knocked on the door and waited to be called in. It was not long. Her father was surprised by her impromptu visit. "Sansa, I don't have t…" He started to say but as he lifted his gaze to look at her his words died in his mouth. "Sansa what happened?" He looked pointedly at her cheek. She rose her hand to cover it when she realised why.

"Mother slapped me." There was no point in lying. Her father was dumbfounded, it was clear he had a hard time believing her. He offered her a seat and closed the door so that they could have privacy.

"Why?"

"Septa Mordane told her I behaved like a savage because I chose to ride, I talked with our hosts and I did not pray to the Seven but in the Godswoods." She summarized. "Then, I questioned why a woman from the Reach would be qualified to teach me how to behave in the North and how she could teach me how to be a good wife when she has never known a man." She sighed. "Mother got angry and slapped me. I should probably not have spoken this way to the septa and to her, but they angered me. What do they know of the North? Even Mother… She's never left Winterfell and you have done everything you could to accommodate her here." She explained.

"Alright." Her father's tone was flat. It frightened her. She did not know what he was thinking, if he was angry. And if he was, at whom… "Why did you come here then?"

It was a good question… One she had a hard time answering. "I don't know. I was angry… I… I think I want her gone." She revealed. Lord Stark's brows lifted all the way to his hairline.

"Your mother?"

"No, no!" Sansa corrected when she realised how she must have sounded. "Septa Mordane… She is a nuisance, really." She knew she ought not to speak this way of an adult.

"What did your mother say after she slapped you?" He asked her.

"That I would be punished." Sansa replied.

"For being a 'savage' on the trip or talking back?" He had more and more trouble hiding a grin.

"I do not know. Both I believe." Sansa shrugged.

Her father lifted one of the papers that was on his desk. "I received your idea from Lord Manderly… Is it truly yours?" She nodded. "It is brilliant Sansa, we will implement it immediately. The orders for the construction of a boat has already been made." She smiled, she was truly happy. The North would be better prepared than the last time. "I do not think a 'savage' would have been able to convince the lords of the North nor designing such a plan. As for the septa… you know I mostly agree with you…"

"But you cannot anger Mother by sending her away." She finished for him. "I understand."

He nodded but soon added: "Indeed, although I would have liked for you to avoid talking back to your mother. You owe her respect in any circumstance."

Sansa went to the crypts the afternoon. To avoid her mother and the septas. She felt at ease amongst the tombs of her ancestors and the statues of the Kings in the North. She sat herself near the most recent ones. Rickard, Brandon and Lyanna. When she had been Queen in the North, she had often wondered what they were like. Rickard seemed like an ambitious and scheming man, who used his children to his benefit, much like Lord Tully. But he was also the same kind of northern fool as her father. For running to King's Landing when Brandon was captured. Brandon… She imagined him much as Robb had been in the last life, headstrong and the head filled with falsities that had brought his doom. And Lyanna, she was a mystery. Why would she marry in secret? What would they never know of what happened? They said Arya was like her, but Sansa thought it was wrong. Lyanna might have been as wilful as Arya, but she also had her head filled with songs. Otherwise she would never have left in such a way.

She was so lost in her thoughts she did not hear the footsteps coming her way. "You skipped dinner." Jon announced.

"What time is it?" She realised she might have been down there for longer than what she might have intended.

"Long past dinner." He replied. "Your cheek is red." He commented curiously. It was true her cheek still hurt.

"Mother slapped me." Jon was surprised, but he did not say anything.

"I went to see Father." He stated.

"And?"

"He does not believe I know someone who could tell me. Though I saw him hesitate when I told him I knew she was dead…" He sounded defeated again. Just like he had when she had refused to tell him. "He promised he would tell me one day, when the time was right. I don't even know when a right time would be." He snorted.

"I know… after you swore your vow at the Wall." She did not look at him. She could not.

"Why?"

"Sit." She ordered. He was too taken aback to protest, and he sat on the ground beside her. She sighed, took a few quick breaths, considered different approaches. The truth was, she did not know how to tell him. She did not want to be the one to tell him.

"You have trouble telling me? Don't you?" He questioned.

"I do." She admitted. "But I can do it."

"You can, it's just a name Sansa." He told her.

"No, it's not."

"What do you mean?" With every question, he inched closer to her.

"You are not my brother Jon." She immediately regretted starting this way. It only served to confuse him. "Father is not… well, your father."

He looked to be struggling for air. "Who?" He croaked.

"First thing that should be said: the story you think you know is false." He was puzzled by her warning, understandably. "Rhaegar Targaryen." His eyes widened but before he could jump to conclusion, she added. "And his second wife, after he set Elia aside, Lyanna Targaryen of House Stark…" Jon backed away immediately, he started trembling and looked with a haunted face at Lyanna's tomb.

"Are you sure?" He whispered after long minutes of trembling like a leaf.

"Last time, you rode a dragon, one of Daenerys'. One of your friends who was studying to become a maester found the High Septon's private diary. You parents' marriage was recorded in it." She explained all she knew. "And Bran, with his greensight, he could see the past. He confirmed it." She paused. "I have also added up the months. It is the only logical answer, I'm surprised nobody ever came to the conclusion. You could confront Father if you're still not sure." Sansa suggested.

"Would that be wise?" He seemed genuine in his question.

"It depends on what you want to do." She replied but saw the incomprehension on his face. "You were born the heir to House Targaryen… for loyalists, you would be the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms." As she had anticipated, he had not considered that.

"What if I need time to process all of this?" He asked.

"You take the time."

He nodded and fell silent for a moment. "You said somebody else knew of my birth…" She understood the interrogation disguised in the statement.

"Howland Reed. Lord of Greywater Watch. He was the only survivor of the rescue mission beside Father." She explained. "I don't know much about him. He died last time, before I even came back to the North." Again, he nodded.

Then, he sat closer to her and rested his head on hers. "Can we stay here for now?" He asked.

"I would like that."

Sleeping while sitting even with Jon's shoulder as a pillow was not the most comfortable position she could have found. She learnt that to her expense when she woke up. Her back was stiff, and her neck hurt. Judging by Jon's grunt, he had to be feeling the same. He blushed slightly when he met her gaze. Neither of them had intended to fall asleep. Sansa had been in the crypt since noon the last day. People would have been looking for her, worried. They needed to get out. With some chance, it would still be dark and she could sneak back into her room.

It was not, dawn was breaking, and the castle was about to wake up. She would be better of going directly to break her fast. Of course, Jon did not come with her, he would take his meal after Lady Stark departed, as usual. It was highly unfair.

She arrived in the hall and found the two septas already seated. She never arrived early for the morning meal, so she had never noticed that Septa Mordane was always first. It made sense, she had early morning prayers in the sept. "Lady Sansa! Where have you been? We have been looking for you everywhere." The woman sprung to her feet and spoke with a tone of reproachful worry that made Sansa want to be sick. Obviously, you didn't look everywhere. And I am not going to talk to you. You and Mother proved yesterday that talking with you achieves nothing. I will remain silent. She ignored the septa's question and walked to her seat at the family table.

She waited for her family to arrive. Bran was first, he came running and immediately started talking about his progress in riding. Arya hugged her when she arrived, she looked happy to see her, but also worried. Sneaky as she was, she probably already knew of her fight with Mother and the septa. Her father came into the room and kissed the crown of the head of all his children, without a word. Unsurprisingly, Robb arrived with Wynafryd, lost in a deep conversation but quickly followed by their mother.

Lady Catelyn was about to say something when she saw Sansa, but Robb was quicker. He rushed to his sister. "By the gods Sansa, what happened? Your cheek is all bruised." Sansa had not even realised the slap was so brutal it left a lasting mark. She took her hand to her cheek and from the corner of her eyes, she saw her mother become white as a ghost and her father's face hardening on the other side.

Sansa did not know how to answer. She did not want Robb to be mad at their mother, and she knew it would be what would happen if she told him the truth. "Nothing Robb, I must have whipped myself with a twig in the Godswood." She lied. Neither Robb nor Wynafryd looked convinced, but they said nothing. Neither did her parents though Lady Stark hung her head in shame for the rest of the meal.

Usually, Sansa and Arya waited until the end of the service to follow Septa Mordane for their lessons. Lessons they had until noon, after which, they went with Lady Dustin. But Sansa had no wish to see Septa Mordane more than strictly necessary. She had attended her useless lessons until now, because there was still an ounce of respect for her mother's religion in her. Not anymore, the altercation had changed that. She rose from the table and went to exit the room.

"Sansa, where are you going?" Septa Mordane called. "Sansa?" The young girl kept ignoring the religious woman. "Lady Sansa?" The Septa was making a spectacle of herself, Sansa did not care, even if she could guess the bewildered looks on her siblings' faces.

It was only when she reached the yard that she stopped, when she heard her mother call her name. Lady Stark was walking rapidly towards her daughter. Sansa turned on her heels and waited for her to catch up. "Where are you disappearing again? You have lessons to attend."

Sansa decided against giving her mother the silence treatment as she did for the septa. "I am not going." She held her mother's gaze. For once I'm happy to be stuck in a child's body. It feels good to be childish.

"You cannot decide that for yourself." Her mother protested. "And you are still going to be punished for your behaviour during the trip!" She insisted.

"Does Father know that?" Sansa challenged. Her tour had been a success for the Starks, even if her mother refused to acknowledge it. Her father would not take kindly to her being punished because of the word of a septa.

"I will inform him this morning, yes. But it won't change anything. And it won't change the fact that you need your lessons." Her mother argued.

"I believe it will change things that Father is made aware… and I don't believe I need to learn anything more from Septa Mordane." Sansa responded. "I am going to pray in the Godswood, if you need me."

"Sansa!" Her mother was warning her. "Your lessons."

"We already established I'm not going." Sansa replied flatly. Her mother was about to say something else, threaten her no doubt. "What are you going to do Mother? Slap me again?" It was low blow, one she knew her mother did not deserve. But she could not help it, every time her mother tried to 'educate' her in anything, she saw King's Landing again, and remembered Lady Catelyn's folly. The event that had started it all.

Her mother looked hurt and Sansa felt the tears of frustration stinging in her eyes. She preferred to flee. To leave before she could say anything more she could regret. "Sansa…" This time, Lady Stark was pleading as she called her daughter.

Much changed in the following year. For the best mostly, despite her parents' frequent fights. Sansa – and to her surprise, Arya as well – were relieved from their lessons with Septa Mordane in favour of more time with Lady Dustin. This was the main rift in her parents' marriage.

Glass gardens had started to be built in most castles of the North, since the trade went well, and the roads were much improved as well. Sansa was proud of that accomplishment, even if most lords praised her father and Lord Manderly for it.

Closer to home, Jon tried to learn as much as he could through the history books in the library and the stories Sansa told him in the crypt. He had decided not to tell Lord Stark that he knew. The young boy had told Sansa that he needed time to make a serious decision. He needed to see King Robert and Prince Joffrey for himself. He also would have wished to meet with his aunt and uncle, but they were in Pentos, and Lord Stark would not allow him to go – not that he asked. The longer he took to decide the more Sansa believed he would not go for it. He did not want the Throne, just like last time – and, for a change, she was happy about it, that Throne had taken too much from her already. The only thing he wanted was a name and a real family. He told her so himself. They spent many afternoons in the crypts curled against each other as they had the day Sansa had told him the truth. Nobody ever found her, nor Jon, though she doubted anyone was looking. His childish features were slowly wearing of, replaced by the handsome face Sansa remembered. If he had not been branded a bastard, ladies would already be clinging to him in hope of a marriage.

Robb however was another story. He was betrothed to Wynafryd. They would be married before the end of the year, as requested by Lord Manderly after Wynafryd flowered. Sansa for her part, was not yet betrothed to anyone and that started to frighten her. She had tried several times to bring the subject to her father's attention. But he always cut the conversation off. The closer they got to the fated date, the more anxious she grew. Even Jon's reassuring words were not enough to calm her anymore.

Everything was the same… The misty weather, the chilly temperature, the sound of birds outside the window, the feeling that something important would happen this day. She had felt it all last time. Only then, she did not know what it meant, today, she did. It was the fated day she had been dreading for three years.

She had accomplished some, like getting the North back in economical shape, making her mother weary of Lysa and Littlefinger, prepared Arya, Jon, Theon and Robb as best as she could, with politics, loyalty and weaponry, and she had told Jon who he was so he would not go to the Wall. Yet, she had also made mistakes… her parents were way less united than the last time, they still shared a room but the children had heard them fight many times. And there were also things she would have wished to do that she could not. She would have wished to go to the Wall and alert everyone on the danger that laid beyond it, but a daughter of House Stark had no place in Castle Black. She wanted to be betrothed by now also, to avoid Joffrey, but her father had avoided every one of her inquiries.

She could not help herself, she mentally noted every little difference. I am in the yard with my brothers and sister. Bran is struggling with his bow but now, Arya helps him instead of mocking him. Father is looking at us but not Mother, she must be with Septa Mordane.

"Boys, saddle up, there is a deserter from the Night's Watch." Her father's voice boomed. "Even you Bran." Same as the last time.

"What about me?" Arya shouted. "And Sansa?" The young lady was surprised that Arya included her. But it was logical with how they had grown closer to each other in the last years. Sansa was just too focused on her past life to notice at first.

Their father seemed to hesitate. "Arya," Sansa intervened, "Mother will be very crossed with Father if we go…" The implication was obvious. They will fight again if we go. Arya and Bran had taken their parents' disputes the worst. "We can wait for them in the Godswood if you want." She suggested to her little sister.

"Alright…" Arya conceded. On the balcony, Sansa saw her father mouth a 'thank you'. She nodded to him and followed her younger sister to the Godswood.

The girls spent a good part of the morning in the Godswood were Sansa watched Arya practice 'swordplay' with a stick. It seemed she had forgotten everything about the deserter. Sansa wondered if the man would say the same thing he did last time, about the White Walkers. Probably. She had done nothing about that, she had not found a way to. She had to think of something to make sure the man was believed this time. After all, Jon would not be at the Wall to deal with it.

As she had expected, her brothers and father came back with six direwolf pups. She had anticipated it, but she really had a hard time not busting to tears when she saw Lady. Arya went straight to Nymeria, Robb had already named Grey Wind, Jon held Ghost as if he did not believe his eyes, Bran looked at Summer – which did not have a name yet – with pride and Rickon who had toddled into the yard held Shaggydog like a doll – Sansa actually worried he would kill the pup. The problem was: their mother arrived at the same time as the youngest of the pack.

"Jory!" She called the guard. "Get those beasts away from my children!" She ordered.

"Father said we could keep them as long as we take care of them!" Bran protested.

Lady Catelyn glared at her husband. "Their place is in the kennels then." She replied harshly to her son.

"No! The direwolf is the sigil of our House!" Bran countered. "They will stay with us. Like the Stark Kings of the statues!" It was true some Stark King had a direwolf with them in their statues in the crypts.

"The direwolves will stay with the children, Cat." Their father ended the argument.

His wife still tried to take Shaggydog away from Rickon. "No!" The youngest Stark barked and held his pup even tighter.

Their mother looked humiliated and mad with rage when she left the yard. It had gone worse than the last time. And surely enough, in the evening, the shouts came. The next morning, the lady's eyes were red and both of them had bags under their eyes.

"Jon Arryn is dead." Lord Stark announced in the same flat tone he had used in Sansa's other life. "The King and his Court are travelling to Winterfell. They will be here in a moonsturn."

Last time, Sansa had been the only one to react. Very excitedly. She had asked if the Queen and her son would come. She had asked questions about the South. This time though, she was silent as a tomb. None of her siblings pipped a word, they all seemed shocked.

"You will all need to be on your best behaviour." Their mother warned. The children nodded.

"What about my wedding?" Robb asked after a minute. Surely, he had understood what would happen. Their father would leave for the capital and he would not get to go to White Harbour for a while.

"I've already sent a raven to Lord Wyman." Lord Stark explained. "I have asked him if we could have the wedding here, while the King is here. I hope the honour of it will sway him to say yes." Robb nodded. "With the surplus that the glass gardens created we will be able to afford it I think. As soon as Lord Wyman answers I'll send the invitations to the lords of the North." Robb sighed of relief; he had apparently been worried that their bannermen would not be there.

Robb Stark

The King was coming. Thanks to Lady Dustin's lessons, he knew had a good idea as to why. Southern politics were not as ignored in the North as he had once thought, and they were not what his mother had made them to be. If he had only listened to his mother, he would have thought that gallantry and appearances were what mattered the most in the South, above honour. While it was true that honour had little value south of the Neck, it was cunning and wealth that were mostly considered in the capital… if you had any wits. Maybe his mother had that in common with King Robert. They lacked understanding of the true customs of the South.

The King could only travel to Winterfell to name Robb's Father his Hand. Anything else and he would have waited until the mourning for Jon Arryn was done. But Eddard Stark was not a cunning man, nor a particularly rich one even if Sansa had done her best… Robb feared that he would not be a very good Hand. In the last three years, he had become more aware of his parents' flaws, even more so since they had started fighting all the time.

At least, in a few moons he would be married to a strong and clever lady, so he would not be alone to rule the North while his father was in the capital. Yet, he also wished Sansa would not travel to the capital. Somehow, his annoying little sister had become a strong northern lady, almost overnight. It hurt his pride to admit it, but without her, their family would still be northern fools. Highly unprepared for what was to come to them.

He was currently trying to write a letter to Wynafryd, to explain the situation and tell her of what had happened in Winterfell.

Dear Lady Wynafryd,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. By the time it does, I believe your grandfather will have taken a decision as to the date and location of our wedding. The King's arrival at Winterfell changes things, but rest assured that if your grandfather still wants to have the ceremony in White Harbour, I will find a way to come before the end of the year.

I also feel I have to warn you: I have a new four-legged companion! Grey Wind is a direwolf we found in the Wolfswood with my brothers. I believe he will be the greatest protector we could have wished for. I am sure you two will get along.

I cannot wait to see you again, my Lady.

My affections,

Lord Robb Stark

Robb hoped she would come to Winterfell to be married before the King. It would make all of their lives way easier and they could have both of their families complete for the ceremony. In truth, he would marry her under any circumstances, but this one was more convenient.

Now, he had to get ready to host the King and his Court. For that, he started by asking around who would come and as much as he could about the people of the Court. Nobody really knew who would be there, no one even knew how many the King brought with him. But there were some talks about the most obvious guests. King Robert had always been described as a great warrior by their father. Lady Dustin simply said that the King had changed since the Greyjoy Rebellion. Robb had to go to the Winter Town to learn more. Smallfolks said the King never ruled, that he let his Hand do it for him and that he had gone fat. The young lord had no trouble believing them. History was filled with more bad sovereigns than good… Queen Cersei was rumoured to be the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Not much else was said aside from her being feared because of her father and the Kingslayer's reputations. Her children, Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen were said to favour her in terms of looks, but he could not learn more about the children. He would have to wait and see. Who knew? Maybe Sansa would be betrothed to the King's eldest son, their father were such good friends, it might explain why Lord Stark had refused to even discuss any betrothals for his daughter in the past few years.

I know! A fractured Stark couple is very weird, they won't always be like that though.
What did you think? Any expectations for next week?

Next chapter: The King and Queen arrive and one of Sansa's worst nightmares happens. Guest POV: Robert Baratheon

Guest reviews:

- Well, here is more! Thank you very much for the review.