Disclaimer: I recently got obsessed with Game of Thrones, but doesn't mean I own it!
Story: They say when Sansa Stark was born, she'd been touched by fire. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, but fire and ice seem to be in her blood. Maybe that's why her soul is damaged so much that she needed three Soulmates to hold her together? Depending on who's asked, Soulmates weren't the happily ever after of the stories Sansa hoped for, not with the men she's apparently bound to. In any case, for the rest of the world, they hope the three chosen could keep her from either burning the world down or icing it into a living level of the Seven Hells.
Set as a gigantic canon AU with divergence as a side dish.
Spoilers: Yeeeessss. Yes, yes, yes. Beware?
Warnings: It's GoT, what do you think? And Ramsay is His Own Warning. (Hell, the Boltons are their own warning XD)
Pairings: (Main) Roosa (Roose /Sansa), Stansa (Stannis/Sansa), and Tysan (Tywin/Sansa). (Side) Probably a lot of Others/Sansa (mostly one-sided though), with a focus on Jaime, Petyr, Oberyn, and Sandor. Arya/Gendry (or Jaqen H'gar…or both of them). I'm leaning towards Danaerys/Jon, but probably going to be strong hints of one-sided Dany/Sansa though.

Her Song of Fire and Ice
Chapter Two: Pulse Point

Jon turned a corner, looking specifically for their spot. And there she was, Sansa curled up at the base of Lyanna Stark's statue, looking utterly miserable.

Robb had been harried as he told him that Sansa had been upset and had suddenly disappeared, and had needed help to find their sister. Although Jon already had an inkling of where Sansa could be (and was right), he hadn't wanted to tell Robb about this spot.

It was their spot.

Whenever he or Sansa were upset, they'd go here and the other could find each other (unless they were already with each other and ended up coming here together). It was just their…spot. Their spot.

Maybe part of the reason why it was there and nowhere else, aside from the obvious privacy and the ability to hide from the rest of the world (and no one, aside from Arya, thinking about this place), maybe it was just the best secret spot to spill their secrets and have secrets —in front of the woman who held so many secrets of her own.

As Jon settled himself quietly beside Sansa, he glanced up at the beautiful Lyanna and frowned.

He didn't know what to feel about her.

Even if she was most probably his mother.

Sansa looked anxious, her hands twisting at her skirt as she watched him with her wide eyes. Eyes like Catelyn's, but prettier to Jon (but he was surely being biased), Sansa looked like like she was haunted by something.

"I don't know if I should tell you —I don't even have proof! But it's just been there in the back of my mind and I've been thinking about it over and over and over —"

"Sansa!" he cut her off. "What is it?" he asked worriedly, prying her hands away from her skirt.

Sansa looked around. "Not…not here."

So somehow they'd made it to the crypts and were huddling together by Lyanna's feet. Sansa looked up furtively.

"Do you ever look at her and think she looks familiar?" she asked him.

"I don't suppose so?"

Jon never really had and wasn't sure why Sansa asked. His sister looked at him morosely.

"I don't think you're Father's bastard at all," she said solemnly. "I think…I think that you're Aunt Lyanna's."

He jumped away from her to protest, but he faltered. He looked at the statue and thought hard.

Sansa wouldn't make light of this. It wasn't in her nature and she wasn't a cruel person to make a jest of this. If she really put thought into this idea and maybe even believed it, there must be some reason for it and a potential for truth —no matter what he'd feel about it.

"I'd still think of you as my brother," Sansa said, still solemn. "And I'm sure so would the others. And I know Father would never let you feel any differently and you would always be a son to him. He loved Aunt Lyanna after all."

That was true and would help make sense why Ned Stark had decisively and without question taken him in, even in the face of Catelyn's wrath and inevitable hurt.

"But why wouldn't he at least tell your mother?" he asked, feeling anguished about all this, especially as (without it being said by either of them), the most probable father had been Rhaegar Targaryen. He wasn't ignorant about the story of Rhaegar and Lyanna.

He didn't want to be a child of rape.

Sansa shifted uncomfortably before leaning more against Lyanna's legs. "Not that I'm nosy or anything," she blushed a bit, which helped make him feel amused and relieve some of his feelings, "but sometimes I hear Father complain about Mother speaking too much to Aunt Lysa. They're close siblings, you know. Even if Aunt Lysa's supposedly not…all there? Anyway, Mother talks to her a lot through ravens, catching up and talking all sorts of things sometimes. Lesser now, for some reason, but they used to speak plenty."

"I guess that's good for siblings?"

Sansa peered at him hesitantly. "Aunt Lysa is married to Jon Arryn."

Jon furrowed his eyebrows, still not getting it. He thought about it, remembering who Jon Arryn was, and then he straightened up and stared at Sansa wildly.

"He's…he's the King's Hand."

Sansa's solemn gaze refused to go away. He swallowed heavily and sat back down next to her, leaning heavily against his sister.

King Robert hated all things Targaryen and had loved his supposed mother.

"Aunt Lysa wouldn't have kept it from Uncle Jon," Sansa muttered. "And it would've reached the King's ears."

Jon took a shuddering breath and felt Sansa sneak her hand into his, which he squeezed gratefully.

Morbidly, he wondered how long would he have had to live if the truth ever came known.

Jon tried not to think about it often, but sometimes it crept into his head and made him all the more glad that he was here with his family. He was eternally grateful his uncle had taken him in and was still trying to protect him, even at the cost of his marriage and bond to Catelyn, though he felt slightly guilty about that.

He had no cares about the throne or a life he could've had otherwise. He had no wish to be related to a madman and a raper.

He was fine here.

So he focused back in on Sansa and nudged her slightly with his arm, seeing her peek up at him under her long lashes.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?"

Sansa's lip trembled. "Mother…Mother was trying to get me to think about some marriage offers earlier. She was insisting it was time for me to think about them and look through them, and that my insistence on waiting was fruitless. That I might not even get a Soul Mark."

Jon couldn't help the irritability. There wasn't any harm in Sansa waiting. She was maybe a little older than the girls who usually have married already, but she was still more than young! He didn't know why Catelyn had to be like this.

"I know I'm late," she muttered. "I know I've yet to flower. So I don't know why I can't wait until then! At least I will have flowered and be ready for marriage and babies, and by then I will know if I have a Soul Mark or not."

But then she started sniffling. "And before that, Old Nan tried to cut off all my hair and insist it was unnatural and wicked and-and-and I had to run away so she wouldn't do it!" Sansa practically wailed.

Alarmed, Jon reached around her and held her tightly. "You know Old Nan! She's absolutely mad. Mad and superstitious, and she has all these nonsense stories she likes to talk about."

Sansa sniffled a few more times, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"…My stomach hurts too. It's been hurting all day," she mumbled.

Jon smiled at her. "Why don't we go to the kitchens and see if they have anything that'll help?"

He stood and held out his hand and Sansa grabbed it and slowly got up. When she gave him a smile with trembling lips, he thought that she'd be okay and weather this out.

She was always good at doing that.

Sansa whimpered, moaning against her pillow and clutching her arms around her stomach. The pain had worsened overnight and she was at the point where tears were escaping her eyes constantly.

Pushing herself off of the bed, she stumbled off of it and found a candle, lighting it to see her way. The first thing she saw though, was the horrifying bloody mess on her bed. Scared and upset, she rushed over to it and noticed that the bloody stains were more on the lower part of her bed and with a sinking feeling, she looked down at herself and saw her ruined gown. Peeling it up revealed the blood staining her legs and she gasped.

She hadn't realized receiving her moodblood would be this painful or bloody!

While she now understood that her stomach pains had been the cause of the first time she'd bled, she hadn't liked the misery of it all.

Then she realized that she'd flowered and that now was the time for her to see if she had been blessed by the Old Gods and received a Soul Mark. Looking at her wrist and realizing it had also bled, her heart beat faster at what that meant. Finding a cloth and a water basin that had been left in her room after her request for something she could use to relieve her stomach pain, the water had longed cooled and the cloth no longer needed warming.

Instead, she dipped the cloth into the water and used it for cleaning. Nervous, she decided to clean herself up first, taking off her gown and wiping her legs clean of the blood before putting aside a new gown to wear after she was done. Then she looked at her wrist and stared.

She tentatively took the cloth and wiped it clean.

After seeing the name on her wrist, she first felt shock. It quickly gave way to confusion, then to terror, and then to numbness.

She kept her tears at bay and instead went to the looking glass, trying to understand what this meant and why had the Gods put his name on her wrist.

Sansa was further shocked though, when looking at herself through the looking glass revealed blood that was drying above her left breast and around the side of her neck. Numbly cleaning those areas, she dropped the cloth when she saw the names that had been revealed under the blood.

What…what did this all mean?

When Sansa was younger, she remembered all the Northern tales of Soulmates and their Soul Marks. Those tales captured her heart, just like the songs and stories of knights and the romance with fair maidens. She'd wished she'd had a Soul Mark and dreamed of having her own Soulmate when she got older.

Sansa was a girl of five and ten now and had started her bleeding yesterday.

But, writ upon her wrist in red as bloody looking as the blood that left her body, was a name.

And another name upon her breast, just above her heart.

And a final one resting upon her neck.

Sansa felt them, had looked upon them in the looking glass, and had stared.

She had three Soulmates, three names, pounding quietly in tandem with her heartbeats.

After discovering the names, she hadn't told anyone she'd received them. More than one Soul Mark had never been mentioned in the tales. She had never heard of anything like it and feared that there was something wrong with her. That maybe her soul was so fractured that it needed three others to hold her together.

But Soulmates were a good thing, wasn't it? A blessing from the gods —

"A blessing, yes. But it is a curse as well. To be honest, little one, to have a Soulmate is a blessing and a curse."

Her father had told that to her a long time ago and she had never understood what he'd meant. Part of her now felt like, while still unclear, she should heed what he meant.

Especially given the names on her skin.

The names that were another reason she'd not said anything about her Soul Marks to anyone. The men she shared souls with were not the men she'd expected, nor any she thought her family would've either.

"You look quite distracted, Sansa," her older brother said in amusement, watching her with a brow raised.

She hid her grimace and couldn't help her hand shooting to her wrist and grasping it, the name emblazoned there throbbing. Robb had caught the action.

"Did you hurt your wrist?" he asked in worry, coming closer.

"N-no! It's fine, Robb!" she stuttered, not hiding her panic very well.

Her brother narrowed his eyes and darted forward, grasping said wrist and lifting it to his eyes. The very same eyes that widened as it saw the Soul Mark.

"You've received a Soul Mark!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "And it's…"

"I know," she said quietly, hiding her wrist again. "I've two more."

Robb stared at her then and she shrugged, moving her hair away and lightly tracing the name scarred on her neck and then gently placed her hand on top of her breast, patting a finger on the name hiding under the cloth of her dress.

"Three," Robb breathed out. "By the Gods…" He bit his lip and looked at her wrist again. "Your…other Soul Marks…Do they have names that will be…as surprising?"

'Unacceptable.'

Sansa looked away. "I suppose so."

For on her pulses were names of men quite older than her and who her family would probably or most definitely not approve of at all.

"The Great Lion, Tywin Lannister himself, written on your wrist," Robb muttered. "The other two?"

Sansa curled in on herself slightly. "Stannis Baratheon above my heart and…I could not read it clearly, but I saw clearly enough Bolton upon my neck."

She could see her brother swallow slowly and then he leaned into her, pushing her hair away and looking at her neck.

She knew there was a Domeric Bolton, but he'd passed away recently and she feared having a deceased Soulmate. She didn't know much of it, but she knew that it wasn't a good thing.

"Roose Bolton," her brother winced and Sansa tensed.

Domeric's father? But…

It seemed she was destined for these men, and she felt all too wary for who they were.

Sansa had been very familiar with the histories of the three men she was meant for. Tywin Lannister, a man she knew was ruthless and had gained a reputation as a fierce and cunning warrior, seasoned in war. Her other two Soulmates were also learned in violence and familiar with warfare, and were just as equally battle hardened. Stannis Baratheon was someone she'd heard was dour, held no fondness for nonsense and courtesies, and was impatient with those who would dare try to court his favor. And Lord Bolton was one of her father's bannermen, a Northman who had a reputation for being as cold as their winters, and as dangerous with blades as his family's words indicated he should be. That wasn't withstanding the age old rivalry and enmity between House Bolton and House Stark, back when there were just Winter Kings and Red Kings at court in the North.

No, she very well knew of her Soulmates.

And it seemed, after receiving their names, she was cursed with hearing about them.

"That man!" she heard her mother hiss, while silently huddling around a bookshelf in her father's solar. "I can't believe him."

"Catelyn," her father's patient voice tried to soothe her mother. "His son passed away. He has no choice but to take in his bastard. Lord Bolton may very well even seek to legitimize him."

She frowned to herself. Her mother would never accept bastards, Jon always weighing too heavily on her.

Sansa's mother huffed. "You know the rumors surrounding his bastard. They call him a 'mad dog'. And the circumstances of his birth…"

"We have no proof," Ned said sharply. "We don't accuse others without proof and we certainly will not accuse Lord Bolton of anything."

Catelyn muttered something Sansa couldn't hear, but her voice was back to normal sound soon enough. "We both know he still practices the First Night. Ramsay Snow is the result of it!"

Sansa flinched, wrapping her arms around herself.

"You don't even trust him," Catelyn accused.

She didn't hear her father say anything for a moment before, "It's not that I don't trust him, Cat. But I am wary of him —I know what Lord Bolton is capable of and I am very aware of the history between our Houses. I am also sure that whatever there are probably truths regarding whatever 'rights' he may or may not practice. But I am also sure that he knows better and has been keeping it quiet and not flaunting his practices. Lord Bolton is smarter than that and there is some sort of accord between us."

"He is a cruel, violent man," Catelyn insisted.

"But he is also an efficient, practical, logical man —one who has shown his loyalty and should not be disregarded."

Sansa fled, confused and not wanting to hear anymore. Unfortunately, her aimless wandering only led her to Bran's lessons with Maester Luwin, who was even more unfortunately in the midst of lecturing Bran about one of her other Soulmates —Lord Lannister.

She closed her eyes tightly as she listened to them from the side. The downfall of Houses Reyne and Tarbeck. The Rains of Castamere. The Sack of King's Landing.

Any slight and The Great Lion would cut you down.

Sansa was, once again, reminded that her Soulmates were hardened men and she was still just a little girl, and would be so in their eyes.

By the time she found herself in her father's solar and fumbling through history books, she felt utterly wrung out. She didn't know what she looked like, but when her father saw her and had a worried look on his face, she thought it probably wasn't good.

"Firebright, is everything okay?"

"Is Stannis Baratheon a good person? Is he…I know he's probably not nice, but is he a cold person?" she blurted out, before being horrified of herself. How impolite!

Her father looked taken aback, but quickly became thoughtful. "I don't know him personally, so not very well. I know he's a good, respectable man, and one who has honor and is fair to a fault. He would willingly deal out justice however strongly he felt on it. Ser Davos Seaworth saved him and his men at Storm's End and ended up with some of his fingers cut off because he'd been a smuggler. But by the same token, Lord Stannis also elevated that same common born smuggler into a knight for his deeds. He is fond of the saying, 'One good deed does not wash out the bad.'"

"What about his family?" she hesitantly asked, knowing that he was married and even had a daughter.

Ned frowned and looked uneasy. "His is not…His marriage isn't like mine and your mother's. While arranged, your mother and I grew to love each other, even finding out we were Soulmates. Our names had been on our wrists since I turned three and ten and she had first flowered, but in the South, it's not taken much stock of and it's a private thing in the North anyway. Brandon, my brother, was first born and so she was promised to him. My father and grandfather weren't happy about it, given they knew her name was on my wrist, but none of us were just about to reveal something sacred like our Northern Soulmate customs to Southrons, who don't believe in or don't even know of such things. Eventually though, after Brandon's death and Cat and I were betrothed, her family were let into the private Northern customs and at least now believe and have learned to cherish it.

"Lord Stannis and his wife though, their story is very much different. Even without being Soulmates, the two of them are widely known to be miserable together and in their marriage. There is no lost love between them and they only have one daughter. She's a lovely girl, but apparently plagued with harsh scars on her face from greyscale. While Lord Stannis may be a cold man to his wife though, when his daughter contracted greyscale when she was young, he refused to give up on her and called upon all he could to find a cure for her and took care of her himself, when everyone else were too afraid in fear of getting the sickness themselves. He may be a cold husband to his wife, but he is not a cold father. He loves Shireen, even if he'd never loved Selyse, so you mustn't mistake him as a wholly cold person, Sansa."

She nodded thoughtfully, glad her father didn't question why she would ask about Lord Stannis.

Still, she felt so overwhelmed that she excused herself and thought she could sleep her thoughts away.

Sansa knew it was dark and everyone would be asleep or going to sleep by now, even the servants. She had to do this now, so that no one would know.

If they found her with her bloody sheets, they would know she had flowered already and then her mother would push the marriage offers even more. And if Soulmates were brought up, she'd have to reveal her Soul Marks.

All three of them. And of who they were.

Having hid the sheets in her room, she retrieved them now and began to quietly sneak out of her room. Treading carefully through the corridors, she was just about to reach the empty kitchens, when Theon appeared through the entrance and stared at her.

She froze, feeling and probably looking guilty.

"What've you got there, Red?" Theon started smirking, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at her teasingly.

Sansa huddled the sheets to her, looking down at the floor and trying not to panic —or cry. If Theon told everyone…

"Hey, hey! What's with that look?" he asked, sounding worried.

She glanced at him underneath her lashes and held the bedclothes closer to her. He glanced at them and actually took a close look at them, exhaling loudly when he figured it out.

"Did you…did you, um…" he couldn't get the words out.

"I don't want anyone to know," she told him miserably.

"Give it here," Theon ordered shortly and she glanced at him in surprise. "Look, even if I got caught with them, they won't connect the sheets with you. They'll just lecture me and assume I bedded some kitchen wench or something and took their maidenhead. Whatever reason they come up with, I promise it won't have anything to do with you."

She hesitantly handed them over and Theon grabbed the bedclothes. She bit her lip before she quickly moved forward and hugged him tight.

"Thank you, Theon."

When she moved away, she saw that he looked awkward and even had a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

"Marry a nice lordling soon," he told her. "So you can be happy, run a keep, and have a bunch of brats driving you mad."

Sansa felt herself smile slightly, maybe even a bit sadly. "Maybe."

It was a different path to take.

Parting ways with Theon, she was on her way back to her room, when she saw her father heading towards her door.

"Father?"

Startled, Ned turned to face her and gave a solemn smile. "Ah, what're you doing up so late, little one?"

"Couldn't sleep," she answered simply.

Her father gallantly offered his arm, smiling slightly. Giggling, she took it and he led her away from there.

"There is something I must tell you," he said carefully. "Your mother was adamant and pushed me to come tell you without delay. She also decided and told me it best I be the one to tell you."

Sansa had a churning feeling in her gut, but waited for her father.

"The King is coming to visit soon," he told her, making her shocked. "I was told that Jon Arryn," here he looked aggrieved and she remembered that Lord Arryn had mentored her father and that they'd been close, "had recently passed. Most likely he is to come and ask me to be his new Hand."

She didn't know what she felt about that. Her father (and all Starks really), well, they all belonged in the North. That's what she'd always been told and what she'd learned.

"He also strongly hinted at proposing a betrothal between you and his eldest son," her father ended softly.

She stopped short and stared up at him, feeling a numbness —not unlike what she felt when she first received her Soul Marks —overtake her.

"I…I see," she said faintly.

He squeezed her hand. "You do not have to answer for it now," he spoke reassuringly. "But you can think on it."

"I will," she murmured.

She'd once dreamed of knights and Soulmates, and filled her head with songs and fairytales. Sansa felt a shift in her once she'd gotten her Soul Marks and found that things were not always the perfect dream she'd wanted.

She was Soulmates with men who had experienced much of life already, when she was barely grown and had only just flowered. Three men who had been married and had children, and she had only helped rear her younger brothers and sister (though sometimes Robb and Theon needed to be minded; thankfully Jon was much more mature and hadn't minded helping her).

What would they want with a young girl like her?

They would not want to be burdened with a child for a Soulmate.

Two of them were Southrons too (though technically one was a Westerner), unlearned in the importance and knowledge of Soulmates. They would scoff at the idea and brush her aside.

She had always thought she'd be happy if she was lucky to receive her Soul Mark and have a Soulmate. But now she wasn't so sure and she knew her mother had never really taken stock in it —not even though she loves Ned Stark through thick and thin, and who had been her Soulmate, their names emblazoned on each other's wrists.

Jon's existence probably hadn't help her formerly Southron-born mother.

Then again, if her suspicions had been true, then Father wasn't really Jon's father —he was his uncle instead. But she didn't dwell on it, because she and Jon had long figured out why the reason had been to keep him quiet from everyone.

The King might be her father's friend, but Robert Baratheon had loved Lyanna Stark and hated all things Targaryen.

She was a dreamer, her brother had joked once. She found herself not thinking of dreams anymore.

Silently, Sansa's feet moved across the godswood and searched out the heart tree she frequented and was her father's favorite spot for contemplation. Here, she would contemplate as well.

Kneeling before the haunting face of the tree, she gently reached out with her trembling hand and touched it, biting down on her lip.

"I know that Soulmates and being gifted one is a rare, sacred gift, and I'm truly grateful to be blessed with not just one but three…" Sansa said softly, gazing upon the face with resignation.

"But I must not accept," she said quietly but firmly.

This was best.

"Even if I am supposed to be theirs and they mine, I cannot have them," she swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. "Even if my own soul is shattered and cries for them, I won't have them. Even if I end up cutting myself on the shattered pieces of my own soul."

It really was best this way.

Started 11/11/19 – Completed 1/23/20

A/n: Hmm, reception to this is better on Ao3 than on FFN…I don't know if that means I was successful or not? XD Welp, here's a longer chapter that I really hadn't meant to get away from me and get so long :D Please enjoy and remember to leave a review to feed my soul~

Quick Points:

1. Current GoT Fics: Her Song of Fire and Ice (SansaxRoose/Stannis/Tywin), A Red King Bowed (Roose/Sansa), and March to My Heartbeat (Stannis/Sansa).