Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories. They are for my own entertainment and something I like to share.
So I wasn't going to post this. I just wanted to see how people felt about it. I do like the time travel and retcon fics.
This first chapter will use a lot of show dialogue, it is unavoidable. That will happen every now and again throughout the story. It can't be helped with this type of story, as some of the same things will happen.
Warning for rape and death in this chapter.
Sansa's breath became laborious. She felt herself slipping in and out of consciousness. Outside, she sensed her familiar, an eagle, calling to her. Once it was a dove, but she'd grown bolder when the bird died. An eagle was stronger, and this one was young enough to have a long life. A second life, she thought. No kings or Queens. Just hunting and rearing her family. The thought of family made her ache. She was the only one who could have carried on the stark name, but she'd failed. Sansa was still young enough to bear children, but she'd not gotten around to taking a husband. The only man she'd have let touch her was gone. Her betrayal had wounded him too deeply. Now, after ruling for less than five years, she'd become ill while visiting her uncle Edmure in the Riverlands.
As she'd returned to Winterfell, she'd progressively gotten worse. She knew she was dying; the maester had told her advisers as much when they thought she was sleeping. Poison, he'd said. She was too far gone to treat with an antidote. It had needed to be administrated within the first day, and the Riverrun Maester had told her it was a simple cold, leaving her to grow sicker and sicker. By the second day, she slipped in and out of consciousness, insisting upon returning home. She couldn't die anywhere else other than Winterfell.
With her imminent death, was the last chance for House Stark to survive. Robb and Rickon were dead. Bran couldn't have children, neither could Arya. The only other Stark left had been exiled to Castle Black. But he had gone north of the wall, never to be heard of since. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. The last time they had been a pack was on that fateful day in Kings Landing, when they all went their separate ways. Now the Starks would be no more. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Her heartbeat slowed, she couldn't breathe. Would the whitewalkers return if there was no longer a Stark in Winterfell? she wondered, the knowledge that these would be her last thoughts. Her throat constricted and everything went dark.
With one hand around her throat, the other wielding a blade, Ramsay carved the Bolton cross into the naked skin on her back. Then he fucked her arse like a dog, rough and painful, until she bled.
"Wake up, you fucking bitch!"
A familiar wet sensation, her back coated in blood. He'd broken her skin again. Sansa often withdrew into herself when he raped and cut her, retreating into her dreams, or more often, nightmares. She could no longer tell where one life ended, and the other began. Sansa knew the only way to stop him was do what he wanted, so she screamed.
"That's a good little wife."
He grabbed her hips and dug his fingernails into her skin, like razor blades, until half-moon imprints in her skin bled. He took her in her cunny, spilling his seed inside her, attempting to put a child in her belly. Once he'd finished, he collected his knife, threw her on her bed, and got dressed, before leaving the room without saying a word.
Sansa wanted to sleep, knowing dreams of an impossible future would come to her if she did. From the day she'd been forced to marry Ramsey, she'd had the same seven dreams, all in chronological order. Sansa wanted to re-live the details of most of the dreams.
The first was her escape to Castle Black, searching for her half-brother, Jon. The seven dreams followed her life until she died. While unconsciousness when Ramsay raped her, she relived a detailed dream of her death. After the final dream, they would repeat chronologically. Initially vague, and subsequently more detailed. Each time, included detailed conversations, emotions, and an undesirable future. They weren't always unpleasant, some were good, like seeing Jon again. Some were terrifying nightmares, like the blue-eyed monsters. Sansa consoled herself, knowing she couldn't feel pain from Ramsay's cruelty.
Her favourite dream was her escape, one which she expected to relive that night. The dream always started the same; leaping from the Winterfell ramparts into the glistening snow below, holding hands with Theon. Praying they would survive. Sansa didn't know how she and Theon arrived at the ramparts, nor the events which would lead to their escape, only the jump. However, sleep never came. Instead, Maester Wolkan paid her a visit.
"I'm here to clean your wounds, Lady Bolton. Lord Bolton's orders. He doesn't want you staining the sheets." he said, taking out a salve and some bandages from his satchel. "Here, drink this." he pulled out a wineskin. "It will ease the pain somewhat."
Ramsey had raped her too many times. Instead of the knife, he'd been using his fists, which he enjoyed. It was to prevent the wound from opening straight back up. Once it scabbed over, he'd cut her again next to the old wound, as if he were carving an image onto her back.
Sansa brought the wineskin to her mouth and gulped the contents down. She knew it wasn't wine; the taste was wrong. Maester Wolkan was giving her moon tea, a measure to prevent her from getting pregnant. He had done this every week, something which had given her some comfort that there were people in Winterfell still looking out for her, like the elderly Lady who had told her to put a candle into the broken tower and she would be rescued. She wanted to ask Maester Wolkan, but he was already risking too much by giving her moon tea. The only other option was bide her time until she saw him next. All she had to do was get through to him.
That night, when she slept, she dreamed of Jon returning from Dragonstone with his silver-haired, Targaryen Queen by his side. Sansa hated the woman as soon as she saw her. Jon had not only bent the knee and given the north away, he'd done it for love. He'd betrayed her and their people. Just like Robb, he'd put love first. Sansa wasn't sure why she hated the beautiful Queen so much. Was it because she'd taken from her the one man whom she thought she could trust in every way possible? Or was it because she sensed the Dragon Queen was as mad as her father, cloaked behind the facade of beauty? Neither answer came to her as a banging noise disturbed her.
When Sansa opened her eyes, she saw Theon with his back to her, about to leave her room. Sansa immediately sat up.
"Theon, wait."
He turned to face her. "Not Theon, my lady. Reek."
Sansa shuffled to the edge of the bed, her feet touching the cold stone floor. "Help me."
Theon stepped forward and held his head down, barely able to meet her eyes. "You're his wife now."
"Theon."
"Do what he says. Do what he says or he'll hurt you." Theon said.
Sansa shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. "He already hurts me every night. All day I'm locked in this room and every night he comes. It can't be worse."
Theon shook his head. "It can. It can always be worse."
Sansa understood that whatever had happened to Theon, it was bad. She stood up and walked towards him. "What did he do to you?"
Theon backed away from her, heading for the door, "Please…" but Sansa was faster. She ran to the door, pressing against it, blocking him from leaving.
"You betrayed my family!"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" he begged.
"You must help me!"
"He'll see us. You don't know him." Theon was cowering from her, absolutely terrified. But Sansa didn't care, they both needed to escape, any way they could.
Sansa pulled a candle from its candlestick and pressed into Theon's hands. "My family still has friends in the North. All I have to do is give a signal and they'll rescue me. Climb to the top of the Broken Tower. Light this candle, and put it in the window. Promise me, Theon."
Theon tried to escape, but Sansa grabbed him. "Reek, my lady, Reek!"
Sansa took a deep breath. She was Lady Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell. Her confidence needed to give him strength, no matter how much it hurt her. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Your name is Theon Greyjoy. Last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, do you hear me? Theon. Promise me." Theon hesitated for a moment; with tears in his eyes, he nodded and left the room, alone once more.
Sansa should have known something was wrong. She waited and waited. Ramsey didn't visit her that night, nor the next one. The bruises on her arms and hips faded to yellow. Seven days passed, she was back to dreaming her last dream. It started in the same place, sat in the Dragon Pit in Kings Landing. Jon being brought out to be sentenced for Queen-slaying, Bran being declared King, the pack separating, and once again, Sansa dying from the sweating sickness. The respite from Ramsey's torture didn't last. The morning after her dream of death, Ramsey summoned her to join him outside.
Two guards escorted Sansa to join Ramsay. The skies were grey, and the snow was falling heavily around her. Despite the cloak she wore, she wasn't dressed for the weather. Her woollen dress wasn't thick enough and her cloak was too light. But Sansa was a Stark, and Stark's didn't complain about the cold, especially in front of the enemy. She stopped beside him. He turned his head. His light blue eyes stared at her, glassy and almost dead. Then they brightened as he smiled a cruel smile.
"My beautiful wife."
Ramsey placed an affectionate kiss on her cheek. Sansa wanted to throw up. She knew whatever was in store for her, would be worse than anything he'd done before. He gently placed his hands on her hips. If he'd have been a loving husband, normally a tender gesture, but it was anything but. Instead, it was a show of power. But Sansa knew to ignore his touches. Instead, she needed to listen to his words. Littlefinger might have been a lying, manipulative man, but words could hurt people as effectively as a sword.
"When my father told me we were marrying, I half expected a fat, bearded beast. Do you know how pleased I was when I saw you? You've made me happy."
As they walked down the stairs, into the courtyard, out of the corner of her eye, Sansa spotted a bung auger on the wall. She didn't know why, but instinct said take it, it might be useful. She slipped her hand from her cloak, picked it up and hid it, as she continued following him.
"Our scouts report that Stannis Baratheon rides for Winterfell." Sansa's ears pricked up, although she tried to feign disinterest. "He's a respected commander. His troops are loyal and battle tested. He's hired thousands of foreign sell swords to bolster his army. But this storm was a stroke of luck for us northerners. Our people are used to fighting in frost. His army's out there now, suffering in the snow."
They continued on in silence until Ramsey spoke. "One day I'll be Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North. You'll be my Lady and Wardeness."Sansa knew she shouldn't goad him, but she couldn't help herself. "But isn't your step mother pregnant?"
"What of it?" Ramsey asked.
"What happens if she has a boy?"
"Then I'll have a baby brother."
They walked on. "But he'll be the heir."
"I'm Lord Bolton's eldest son."
"But you're a bastard. A true born will always have the stronger claim."
Sansa and Ramsay stopped walking. "I've been naturalised by a royal decree of..."
"Tommen Baratheon. Another bastard."
They started walking again. "Bastards can rise high in the world. Like your half-brother Jon Snow. Born The Bastard of Winterfell, now the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
Sansa's heart stopped. Just like in her dreams, he'd become the Lord Commander while she was in Winterfell with Ramsey. Mayhaps the dream a coincidence, possibly be greensight, not that she believed in such stories.
"You didn't know? Yes, he's done very well for himself. Ah. I near forgot why I asked you to join me. Come, my lady."
They made their way down to the courtyard where Ramsey stopped in front of the body of a flayed woman. Sansa immediately recognised her to be the woman who visited her chamber previously, the one who told her to put the candle in the broken tower. Sansa looked at the woman, horrified. She had done this. The woman had suffered at the hands of the monster because she was stupid enough to trust Theon.
"Your Northern friend. Reek told me you wanted to leave."
Bile grew in her throat. Theon had betrayed her. Despite learning of Jon becoming Lord Commander, she knew the dream of herself and Theon jumping from the ramparts was nothing more than that, a dream. She was still a stupid girl with stupid dreams. "
Why? Winterfell is your home, and I am your husband." He said. "Tough old bird. Everyone talks when beat them. But this one. Her heart gave out before I got to her face."
Tears ran down Sansa's cheeks. She thought she was going to faint. Blood dripped from the body, which no longer had any skin. Save for the old woman's face, Ramsey had needed that to prove who she was. "We breed them tough in the North. Bring my wife back to her chamber. It's far too cold out here for a lady. You should hold on to your candles. The nights are so long now." he said. Sansa could barely hear his words. She felt him kiss her on the cheek as the two guards who had escorted her from her chambers approached. Ramsey walked away, and they returned her back to her prison.
This was the fourteenth time she'd experienced this dream. In her mind, it was the one which changed everything, setting into motion the downfall of house Stark. Jon was crowned King in the North, he and Sansa ruled together. She was happy, although there were concerns regarding the impending doom of the whitewalkers, which Sansa didn't believe in, and her fear of Cersei. Then came the letter, the one which ruined everything, which came from Dragonstone. Daenerys wanted Jon to go to Dragonstone. He left her, and once again, Sansa was alone.
Sansa woke early, anger still burning fresh. Ramsey visited her in the night, using a whip to cut into her flesh, so when she sat, it would be painful. But sit she must, she couldn't let him sense weakness. She dressed herself, ensuring enough layers to cushion her from the hard wooden seats she was forced to sit on. By the time she was ready, her breakfast was due. Today, Theon would bring it to her. He always brought her breakfast on the day she dreamed of Jon leaving her. She sat in the chair, waiting for him, simmering with anger. Eventually Theon entered Sansa's chambers with a tray of food. He looked surprised to see her sat up and dressed. Theon lowered his eyes, setting the tray of food down in front of her.
"Why." Sansa asked. When he didn't answer, she tried again. "Why Theon?"
"Not Theon. There is no Theon. Reek."
"Reek. Why did you tell him, Reek?"
"I was helping you. You were trying to escape. There is no escape. Never. Theon Greyjoy tried to escape. The master knew. He knows everything. He hunted him, he caught him, he strapped him to a cross, and cut away piece after piece until there was no Theon left." he said.
A lifetime ago, Sansa would have wept for Theon, but now the tears fell for the old Lady, for Bran and Rickon, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrick. For betraying Robb, for all the people Theon had betrayed and murdered. She wept for everyone of them, but not Theon. Instead, all she felt was hatred and anger.
"Good. If it weren't for you, I'd still have a family. If I could do to you what Ramsay did to you right here, right now, I would."
"I deserved everything. I deserve to be Reek. Did terrible things. Turned on Robb. Captured Winterfell. Killed those boys."
Sansa had had enough. She stood to face him squarely. "They weren't 'those boys', they were Bran and Rickon. They were your brothers. You knew them since they were born."
"They weren't. They were only..." he stopped himself before he said too much.
"Only what?" she demanded. There was something he was hiding about her brothers, or was he ignoring the fact that he'd known them since birth?
"I can't.." Theon begged.
"Tell me!" Sansa demanded.
"I can't, not unless the master says..." Theon was clearly terrified, but Sansa didn't care.
"Tell me, they weren't what?!" her voice got louder.
"They weren't..." she could see he wanted to tell her something, but he was struggling to find the words.
"Tell me why Bran and Rickon should be dead while you still breathe the air." Sansa grabbed hold of his face. "Tell me to my face, Theon. Tell me they weren't your brothers!"
"They weren't Bran and Rickon!" Theon cried. Stunning Sansa into silence. "I couldn't find them. It was two farm boys. I killed them and burned them so no one would know."
Sansa looked at him in shock. "You didn't…?" Theon shook his head. "Do you know where Bran and Rickon went?" she asked, desperate to know where her brothers were and if they were alive.
"I can't talk to you anymore." Theon said.
"Theon, you must tell me, do you have any idea where Bran and Rickon..."
Theon turned to the door and ran outside. "Not Theon, Reek!" he closed the door behind him.
Sansa's heart raced frantically. Part of the reason she'd never believed her dreams was because she'd believed Bran and Rickon had been murdered by Theon. She'd never jump off the wall with him if that were the case. In her dreams, Rickon was murdered by Ramsey, the North became independent and Bran ruled as King of the remaining Six Kingdoms, the all seeing three-eyed-raven. She realised that, combined with the knowledge of Jon becoming the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, there might be some kind of truth in the dreams. Maybe she was also a seer, which meant she'd soon leave her Winterfell prison and head north toward Castle Black. However, she was determined she would not end up alone. Sansa was going to fight, not only for the north, but for Winterfell, Westeros and her pack. She was prepared to do whatever it took to escape from her prison. She pulled the bung auger from under her bed and examined it, making plans, formulating the execution in her mind. One which would eventually involve Jon staying in the north, finding a northern bride and providing house Stark with heirs.
The next few days passed in a blur. Sansa was waiting for the dream when she would leave Winterfell. She needed clues to tell her when the best time would be to enact her plan. That night, Ramsey didn't come to her. It allowed her to dream clearly. Sansa and Theon stood on the wall, holding hands. Men shouted in the background, but instead of looking back, they jumped.
The snow cushioned their fall. They scrambled to their feet and ran. The snow was deep, but at least it had stopped. Still, it didn't make running any easier, especially in a long dress. Sansa knew they had ground over those who searched for them, but the soldiers were faster, and Ramsey's hounds could find their scent. Which was the reason for crossing the river. She took in the scenery and events. Sansa was saved by Brienne of Tarth and her squire Podrick. Brienne became her sworn sword and Theon left them, returning to the Iron Islands, claiming Jon would kill him. Brienne told her of the battle between Stannis and Ramsey, in which Stannis lost. They continued making their way to Castle Black, which was where the dream ended. When Sansa woke, she smiled. That was her cue to escape. As soon as the weather turned, Ramsey and Stannis would go into battle. That was when she would try to escape.
The very next day, the weather changed. Again Ramsey hadn't come to her rooms. He clearly had other business to attend to. She dressed herself as warmly as possible, although all she had was the simple woollen gown and her cloak. But it would have to do. She word two extra night shifts underneath for added warmth, plus she wore three pairs of stockings. Sansa glanced out of her bedroom window and saw that there was chaos in the courtyard, her cue to light the candle for Brienne.
Sansa lifted her mattress and found the bung auger she hid from Ramsey. Sansa had practised picking the bedroom lock a few times and had now mastered it. She'd wrapped her breakfast of bread and cheese and hidden it into her pocket. She took a candle from its holder and stuffed it into the other pocket. Sansa pressed her ear to the door to make sure there was no-one around; she unlocked her bedroom door. Sansa pulled her hood up over her head, dripped the bung auger, glanced around and quickly made her way outside.
The Winterfell courtyard was in organised chaos. Men were everywhere, preparing themselves for battle. They were too preoccupied to notice Sansa leave the keep and make her way to the broken tower. At the edge of the courtyard, she noticed a brazier. Sansa checked her surroundings and lit the candle she was holding. Using her cloak to shield it from the wind, she finally arrived at the tower, the one Bran had fallen from in what seemed like a lifetime ago. She rushed inside and made her way up the stairs. When she reached the top floor, she placed the candle in the window facing the holdfast in the north, hoping that her rescuer would see it.
Off into the distance, she saw men charging against one another. Ramsey had an immense force, while Stannis had a pathetic number of men. Ramsey had been right. Despite Stannis being one of the best commanders, his men did not know how to fight in the north, whereas Ramsey's men did. The battle wouldn't last long before they all returned. Sansa knew after she and Theon jumped from the wall on the south-west of the castle, the one near the smithy, they'd have little time to run. She ran as fast as she could to the smithy and made her way up the steps, changing direction and doubling back when she saw one of the Bolton men, trying to make sure nobody noticed her.
Sansa wasn't paying attention to what was in front of her, as when she came out of the covered walkway and over the smithy, she saw Myranda stood in front of her, with a bow drawn. Behind her, Theon stood looking sheepish.
Myranda grinned. "My lady. I came to escort you back to your chamber."
"Go with her. Please." Theon begged.
Sansa looked to Theon. "I know what Ramsay is. I know what he'll do to me. If I'm going to die, let it happen while there's some of me left." She knew, she either had to escape or die. She couldn't end up like Theon.
Myranda lowered her bow. "Die? Who said anything about dying? You can't die yet. Your father was Warden of the North, and Ramsay needs you. Though I suppose he doesn't need all of you. Just the parts he'll use to make his heir. Until you've given him a boy or two and he's finished using them." She smirked, raising her bow. "He's got incredible plans for those parts. So. Shall we wait for him to come back, or shall we begin now?"
Sansa kept quiet. If Myranda hit her, then her dreams weren't true. Sansa would rather jump off the walkway and die than return to her chambers.
"You're leaving it to me? Good. Let's begin." Myranda drew her arrow back. Before she could release it, the dark recesses of Reeks mind had an epiphany. He became the Theon Greyjoy Sansa had grown up knowing as a little girl. He tackled Myranda into the wall, causing the arrow to miss Sansa.
"Stop! Stop!" Myranda cried as they struggled. Finally having had enough, Theon threw Myranda her over the edge of the walkway and into the courtyard, killing her instantaneously. Sansa and Theon looked over the edge to see Myranda's broken body, the ground covered in blood where her head had smashed into the stone. Suddenly, a horn blared from the gates.
"Open the gates!" a voice cried out as Bolton men were already returning from the battle, riding through the gates to Winterfell.
"He's coming back." Theon's voice was panicked. He grabbed Sansa's hand and lead her along the walls. They climbed to the top of the wall and looked down towards the pile of snow at the bottom. Theon offers his hand to Sansa. She nodded, and took it, and they lept off of the wall, just as she did in her first dream.