As the sun rose on another day in Winterfell, Sansa stared blankly at the ceiling. She had woken hours before the sun had even risen. She recalled the conversation she had with the three-eyed raven and couldn't help but sigh at the revelations he gave her.

Sansa was in the training yard of Winterfell, training with a bow in hand. Beside her was Arya, preparing herself to take another shot. She was a better archer than her older sister that was evident, but Sansa was no slouch either. A murder of crows flew through the training yard and suddenly it was just Sansa standing there, wearing the crimson robes that Melisandre had draped her with all those years in another time.

"Hope Mikaelson" a male voice called and the femme turned around.

"It's Sansa Stark now" the auburn-haired femme replied, critically studying the man who stood before her. He had milk-white skin, matching white hair, and crimson eyes. The mark of an albino. On the right side of his face, he had a birthmark that extended from his throat up to his right cheek, red in color and almost in the shape of a raven. He stood tall and proud, wearing a black and red armor set with the sigil of the three-headed dragon on the breastplate.

"I know" the man spoke, his face showing no signs of how he felt about that information. "It would seem you have been sent to stop the coming darkness" he folded his arms over his chest.

"Unwillingly" the femme answered, "I wasn't exactly given an alternative to that. It was either this or, well this" she finished.

"I know" he answered, "I have been told to teach you how to warg and look through the trees."

"Warg?" Sansa raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you've misheard. I am no warg. I have my magic but other than that I have nothing more."

"You're a Stark of Winterfell now" the man explained, his tone indicating that less than pleased about that, "the blood of wargs run in your veins now. You have your magic and the blood of the Starks. Whatever else you had, they are either gone or have been pushed to remain dormant by the ones that sent you here."

"I see" Sansa mumbled, playing the words in her head. She was no longer a werewolf. Whatever had been done to her to bring her into this world had made her magic stronger. But her wolf side was pushed back. Was it gone? Or was it dormant again, waiting for her to kill an innocent so it can come back up again? And what about her vampire side? She should have become a vampire the first time she died. Was that gone as well?

She turned her eyes back to the man. "You don't look too pleased with what had transpired."

"I had…certain plans" the man answered after a pause. "You being here means I have failed, means my heir has failed in doing what was required of him. Now I have to train a priestess of R'hllor to do it."

"I am no priestess" Sansa rolled her eyes. "R'hllor brought me into this world through Melisandre. I have met all of them, R'hllor, The Old Ones, and The Seven. I worship none of them. I am only doing all of this for them so I may return home once everything here is done and The Long Night has pushed further away."

The man raised his brows in surprise but only for a moment. They were back to where they should be and his face gave nothing away. He took a step back and turned around. His whole body shimmered before bursting into a murder of crows.

That was how their first meeting had ended. Sansa knew that the man was gauging her right then, to see the kind of person she was. Maybe the next time they meet, they'll start training. She was not sure when that next time will come around.

She pushed herself to sit up and let out a sigh. She hated to get out of the comforts of bed, but she knew she had to do it. At her feet, her direwolf yelped and licked at her hand. Sansa smiled and gave a scratch behind the wolf's ear. She would be called Lady if the original Sansa was around, but this time around the name was different. Arya and Catelyn questioned why Sansa had named her wolf Andrea, but Sansa never really explained it to them.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Ned Stark and The King were in a rush to finish so they could go hunting. Robb and Joffrey would be joining them as well. Sansa kept her gaze down and on her food the whole time, only speaking when asked questions and ignoring the trials from Joffrey in trying to flirt with her. She could already notice the irritation building on the boy. It was a fun little game.

After breakfast, Sansa went to the Septa to start her day's lesson. Princess Myrcella had joined the usual members in today's lesson. The Septa was extra attentive to the princess, which gave Sansa more opportunities to help Arya with her stitches. Sadly her sister was still hopeless with her needlework, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Small victories as Sansa would tell her.

"Have you heard?" Jeyne looked to Arya, who looked back with surprise. It wasn't often that Jeyne or Beth spoke to Arya, so when they did the girl would always find herself surprised. "The prince is going to marry your sister. She's going to be the Queen of The Realm someday."

"Don't spread rumors Jeyne" Sansa chided her friend. How she even found out, Sansa had no clue. No matter what the world was, it would seem gossip would always find its way out. Sansa then turned to Arya, "what do you think of him, Arya?"

"Jon says he looks like a girl," Arya said with a straight face. Jeyne and Beth both look stricken while Sansa just gave a light chuckle.

"I suppose he does favor his mother more" she admitted, making her friends gape and Arya snort.

"What are you talking about, children?" the Septa turned to the four and the girls all looked at her. Jeyne and Beth were smiling apologetically while Arya looked like she wanted to hide.

"We were just talking about how we're lucky to have Princess Myrcella with us today" Sansa smiled at the princess, who returned her smile with a bright one of her own. Myrcella was a sweet girl, void of her mother's wickedness and with a soft heart. Tommen was similar to his older sister rather than his brother. A relief for the realm.

"Septa Mordane, it's time for our morning training" Sansa spoke and the Septa winced. It was no secret that the Septa did not like Sansa and Arya training with the men, but she did not have a say in it since it was an order from The Lord of Winterfell.

"Training?" the princess perked up. Sansa graced her with a smile.

"Training princess" Sansa nodded. "My sister and I train with bows. Though I suspect that Arya will be moving on to other weapons soon" the last part made Arya blush. Just a few days ago Jon had gifted her with a sword, light as a feather but sharp as any other sword. Sansa had walked in on the two when Jon was gifting it to her. Both of their owl-like widened eyes almost made her laugh.

"Would it be okay if I joined you two? I promise I'd only watch" the princess asked, a hopeful look on her face.

"We wouldn't mind" Sansa smiled while Arya gripped her hand tightly. Sansa gave her hand a gentle squeeze back and her sister let go with a sigh. Myrcella on the other hand was glowing with joy.

The Septa watched with resigned dread as Sansa led Arya and Myrcella out of the room, Jeyne and Beth staying behind to continue with their lessons.

"How long have you two been training?" the princess asked, her curiosity palpable for all to see.

"Hmm? I think Arya was around five? Or maybe she was four" Sansa thought out loud.

"Five!" Arya answered with a sullen look. "I had to fight my mother to let me train."

"What changed her mind?" The princess looked over to Arya who looked at her with a now cheeky grin.

"Sansa! She told mother about how I was more Northern than Southern and that the Northern ladies knew how to fight! Father had no issues with hit but mother was still unconvinced. So Sansa promised to make sure that I sat down for my lessons with the Septa while also trained with weapons. She even offered to train with me and help me with my lessons."

"So you did this for your sister?" Myrcella turned to Sansa this time.

"Half and half" Sansa smiled. "I wanted to learn too but was too afraid to say it. Arya on the other hand had no qualms about being vocal about it. Plus it gives us more time to spend with each other while doing things we each liked" Sansa shared a grin with her sister. Truth was that Sansa could have just said it herself, but she wanted Arya to be heard and know that she had support from her big sister. This was a good way to show here that.

"That sounds nice. I wish I had a younger sister to be so close to" Myrcella sighed.

"You have brothers though" Arya pointed out. "You could be close to them too. Like we are with our brothers" she added. But Myrcella just smiled in response. Sansa could see a hint in her smile, and she knew exactly why Myrcella felt that. Joffrey wasn't the ideal big brother to have. And Tommen was still young and impressionable. Maybe the little brother had inherited some of the older brother's attitude towards their sister. Sansa truly did feel sad for the princess.

When the trio had reached the bottom of the steps, Andrea and Nymeria rushed over to their respective humans. Sansa felt Myrcella grip her arm, her whole body stiff. Sansa just smiled at her.

"It's okay," she assured the princess, "Andrea and Nymeria only hurt the people that try to harm us. You can touch her don't worry."

Myrcella was hesitant, looking at Andrea and Nymeria with clear fear. Andrea moved forward and stood before Myrcella. The princess recoiled at first, but she calmed herself and stepped forward again. She raised a shaky hand and Andrea poked it with her nose and then gave it a lick. The fear evaporated and Myrcella smiled while petting Andrea. Nymeria came up next and Myrcella repeated what she did with Andrea with a little more confidence, she got the same results with her as she did with Andrea.

"Arya," Sansa looked to her with a smile, "why don't you go and find Bran? Ask him to join us."

"I'll bring him!" Arya smiled and ran off. Sansa saw the delight on her face at Nymeria and Andrea interacting with Myrcella. Maybe the two can become friends too. Sansa looked out towards the yard and then to the broken tower in the distance. Bran won't fall, because she doubted Bran would survive the fall this time around.