When Sansa had felt the bite from Rickon, just before she plunged the dagger into her heart, she hadn't expected to feel it moments later, except this time from a five-year-old who was still going through a phase. She had pricked her finger with her needle at the pain of the bite. When she saw her little brother, she'd screamed, only to find Arya running into her room and putting her hand over her mouth as Rickon vanished from sight.
"You're...you're..."
"I know. A little girl." Arya rolled her eyes. "So are you."
Sansa stood up and walked over to the mirror. She saw her thirteen-year-old self, her heart sank. Then she looked at Arya's reflection with excitement, Robb, mother, father, Rickon. "They're all alive." She whispered.
Arya nodded. "Good."
Sansa realised the girl was still the faceless assassin underneath. Trained to hide emotions, like her. "I wonder whether Jon is back."
"Mayhaps. Unless he survived."
"Rhaegal fell. I heard him outside the crypts. Jon might have been the first of us."
"At least we know the crypts are not a safe hiding place." Arya replied coldly, her hand's clasped behind her back.
"You can't stand like that." Sansa warned. "You look too grown up."
"You're standing exactly the same." Arya observed. They exchanged glances, appreciating this was going to be difficult. "You were a snobby child, gods you're going to be insufferable now, acting like the Lady of Winterfell. Mother won't tolerate it."
"I can play the little bird if I have to. It's not that long ago since you executed him."
"You weren't playing the little bird then." Arya shook her head. "You'll have to remember what you were like before we left."
There was a knock at the door, which opened, one of the servants, whose name Sansa had forgotten, was on the other side. "Septa Mordane asked me to collect you both for your afternoon embroidery lessons."
"Thank you, we'll be there in a moment." Sansa nodded. "You can leave us." The maid looked at Sansa in shock and practically ran off. Arya snorted, and suddenly Sansa felt confused. "Would I have said something like that?" Arya shook her head.
"At least I'll be better at embroidery." Arya said. "Stitching bodies is far harder than silly flowers. Oh well, it is practice to keep my skills."
"Arya Stark is looking forward to an embroidery lesson. What will Septa Mordane think?" Sansa raised an eyebrow as they set off for their lesson.
"That there's hope for me to become a Lady." Arya shook her head.
"Only when she's pretending." Sansa smiled.
When they reached the classroom, Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassell were already waiting. Sansa went to join them so as not to arouse suspicion, hoping to establish the gossip to give her an idea when they'd arrived. Lady and Nymeria were nowhere to be seen, neither were any of the boys, father or Theon. Sansa and Arya had briefly spotted their mother crossing the courtyard, and Rickon was clearly around, the bruise on Sansa's arm confirmed that.
The chatter was about the men and boys leaving to behead a Night's Watch deserter, which instantly told Sansa that the direwolf pups were on their way. She could tell Arya was listening in carefully, as she also acknowledged the event with a simple nod, before returning to her stitches.
Septa Mordane wandered around the class, examining their work.
"Goodness Sansa, how did you sew that so neatly and so quickly?" the Septa asked.
"I... I like the pattern," Sansa lied as Jeyne and Beth looked over towards her work, which she'd already completed within ten minutes, while the other girls had barely started. "I wanted to start on a dress." Sansa realised her mistake. For a thirteen-year-old, she was too good. Albeit not at the standard she had reached from practising sewing Jon's clothes and making complicated dresses. Of which she desperately wanted to get back to.
The childhood dress she was wearing right now was hideous and impractical. She glanced over to Arya, her dress was inadequate. How was her sister supposed to practice her water dancing dressed in girls clothes?
"Let me have a look," Septa Mordane said to Arya in an exasperated tone. Sansa glanced over towards her sister, Jeyne and Beth giggled.
"How bad is Arya horse-face today?" Jeyne whispered, but Arya had heard her and gave Sansa's friend a warning shot. Sansa turned to both Jeyne and Beth.
"Name calling is inappropriate for a Lady." she scolded them. "Unless it is in private and the said Lady is your own flesh and blood," she added in her Lady of Winterfell voice. Arya smirked, but they were all distracted by Septa Mordane.
"Gods Arya. What has happened. Wait until your mother sees this. She will be so proud of you." the Septa grinned. "I knew the hard work and persistence would pay off. We must show her."
"Let me see." Sansa got up and glanced over at Arya's handiwork, which was nothing like as good as her own, but she'd already half finished the pattern and the stitching was neat compared to Jeyne and Beth.
"See what happens when you put in hard work and stop gossiping." Septa Mordane showcased Arya's work to Jeyne and Beth, who suddenly shut up. She turned to Arya. "Come with me, let us show your mother, she will be so proud."
"Can I start on a new dress?" Sansa asked.
"Of course you can dear." Septa Mordane grinned.
Once the lesson was over, Sansa ignored her friends and joined Arya in the courtyard, who was wistfully watching the men spar. Sansa knew a lot more about the fighting between the men, so she was able to appreciate the skills they had.
"That was torture." Arya sighed. "Mother was so pleased with me. It was nice... but Septa Mordane was too pleased with her own teaching skills."
"Maybe we shouldn't have shown off so much." Sansa offered.
Arya looked up at her. "We need to keep our skills. I'm expecting my swordplay to be a little off. It always is when I'm inside another body. They're muscles don't want to play along. I suppose this body will be the same for a few days. It will be harder for Jon, he's not used to having to swap bodies and adjust. He'll have to build his muscles back up. It might be an idea if you also learn how to fight."
"I can't imagine I'll be much use with a sword." Sansa shook her head.
"Your stitching is precise. I could teach you how to use a bow and arrow, daggers. Both useful for when the long night comes." Arya suggested.
"I suppose." Sansa agreed. "We'll see what Jon says. If it's him." She added as their mother walked over frowning at Sansa, whose heart was pounding with joy at the sight of her mother being alive.
"Your father and the boys will be back in a few minutes. It appears they come bearing gifts," she promised, before leaving them.
"Wait for them looking like the Lady of Winterfell." Arya whispered to Sansa. "I'll stand like the older me. If Jon is King in the North, he'll know straight away that he's not alone."
As soon as the men rode into the castle and they spotted Jon, it was clear he was the Jon she knew, not the teenager the young Sansa Stark knew. Even from a distance, the sullen look was gone, he rode in like the King he once was.
"He's even more obvious than we are." Arya whispered. As father dismounted and placed two pups on the ground; as soon as the black pup emerged, a squealing Rickon ran towards it.
The other pup ran towards Arya. Robb put down one of the pups he was carrying, which immediately ran towards Sansa. Her heart nearly broke at the sight of Lady. Compared to Jon and Ghost, she and Lady had barely spent any time together. When Lady died, something had died inside Sansa, but now they were once again reunited and she wouldn't let her wolf die in the same circumstances.
Sansa observed Jon's body language as he approached them. Despite carrying Ghost in his arms, the slight hunch he used to have to make himself look invisible to her mother had gone. He walked straight-backed, head high and with the confidence of a man who had led armies and a nation, although he had a tiny limp.
He'd been a leader longer than any of them, having also been the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Jon would be the hardest to hide, Sansa decided; she and Arya were used to the mummers farce and pretending to be someone else, Jon wasn't, he was too honest and honourable to not act like the King in the North.
Sansa had only just kept her composure during their conversation. She knew they were going to have to re-live their lives once more, except this time they would need to plan for a whitewalker invasion and try to stop the people they loved from dying. She took Lady to her room and burst into tears. Being horrible towards Daenerys was like letting off steam, she needed time alone. Her teenage emotions were overwhelming her adult brain, and she needed to cry.
Sansa should have been happier to see her family, but in truth, her family were Jon, Arya and the Three-Eyed-Raven. Even the young Bran or this version of Theon were no longer her family. She loved her parents and brothers, but they were strangers to her. She had learned much about them after she'd last seen them, things which had changed her opinion of them.
Only Rickon was left unscathed in her mind. So seeing her family wasn't the comfort she'd expected, it was as if she was mourning them all over again, but not the same people. Of course, mourning Lady was different, that had been her own fault, something she wouldn't let happen again. Maybe if she were to keep her family alive, she could grow to feel happier to have them back. How had she grown so cold with experience? She wondered.
During their evening meal, Sansa felt slightly more comfortable. She sat with Robb, although she wanted to sit with Jon and Arya, it would look strange considering how little they had gotten on. She couldn't sit with Jeyne and Beth, she simply didn't know what to say to them. She had completely lost the ability to gossip like a thirteen-year-old. At least with Robb, she could sit and talk about their wolves.
Sansa had agreed to meet with Arya and Jon in the Godswood later that evening. As much as she'd first thought she might be in some wonderful afterlife, it was turning into a nightmare full of childhood restrictions. Having to mind her manners and play the perfect Lady was something she used to enjoy, except Sansa had only imagined what it was like to be a Lady, she hadn't known what it was really like.
Sansa didn't like being told what to do and when to do it. She was quite capable of knowing these things for herself. A greater understanding of Arya's childhood frustrations were already creeping in.
It was only when the three of them were gathered in the Godswood did Sansa finally feel free to be herself. She knew the other two essentially felt the same; until Jon revealed who he was and that he was really the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen, a secret prince born in Dorne. The words of Littlefinger haunted her "A bastard born in the south."
Nobody had known where Jon was born, of course it was south of Winterfell, but Littlefinger had made it clear Jon was born in the south itself. She was also aware he seemed to be very knowledgeable about their aunt and prince Rhaegar, which in her mind meant only one thing.
"I think Littlefinger might suspect something." she told them.
"Even if he did, he never acted on it before, why would he do it now?" Arya asked.
Sansa grinned. "Littlefinger wants someone weak on the Iron Throne, someone he can manipulate. He aspires to be mothers hero. If she finds out father lied for their entire marriage, and it comes from Littlefinger, he'll be able to manipulate her." She turned to Jon. "You're a sixteen-year-old, no leadership experience, raised to have no prospects. Known to be sullen but kind and helpful. In the eyes of a master manipulator, what kind of King would you be?"
"A weak one." Jon nodded.
"Varys wants what's best for the realm. But deep down he's a Targaryen loyalist. He'd have you on the throne if he thinks you are what is best for the realm." Sansa added.
"You are thinking of recruiting the two worst manipulators in Westeros to put Jon on the Iron Throne?" Arya looked at her as if she'd sprouted another head.
"What else would you have us do?" Sansa asked.
Arya frowned. "Talk to father."
"He wouldn't have let Jon rot at the wall if he ever considered sitting him on the Iron Throne." Sansa shook her head. "Anyway, I don't know how to talk to him. I don't know how to talk to any of them, except Rickon. They're strangers."
Jon nodded. "Aye, what do you say to people who've been dead for years, when you've carried on and..."
"Died." Sansa nodded. "Twice for you." Jon chuckled.
"How do you think I feel? I've fought, fucked and killed. And now I'm stuck in the body of an eleven-year-old. I hope I can still fight properly. I've got needs."
"Needs?" Jon looked shocked.
"I've got to start my kill list all over again." Arya shook her head. "Don't let me forget to brown the butter first before I bake Black Walder and Lothar Frey." she japed.
"You're serious aren't you." Sansa looked at her sister in shock. "Jon, she listens to you."
"Arya, those people are innocent." Jon insisted. "They haven't wronged you yet. And if we can change things they might never wrong you. Instead, they could become allies." he sighed. "Look we need to come up with a plan. We don't know what went wrong the first time. I believe it is obvious there is something here or an opportunity that will disappear soon. Other than us disappearing, what else happens of interest where we might be able to find some information."
Sansa thought for a moment and then realised another option. "The library will burn down. After we leave, the library is burned as a distraction to kill Bran. It was why Robb went off to war."
"So we search the library?" Jon asked.
"As if I'd ever be seen dead in a library," Arya looked at them. "Well I would, but the younger me wouldn't."
"I'm not exactly studious," Sansa sighed as they both looked at Jon. "You were quite fond of the library... your grace," she added as a jape. He used to dislike being called "Your Grace" before, but he tolerated it; now he would hate it. Sansa was right, Jon glared at her and sighed.
"Alright, but Arya and I need to train. It will take time to get our skills back to where they were. But we'll still probably be able to beat most of the yard." Jon nodded. "We'll spar with each other and do other strengthening exercises."
"What about me?" Sansa asked.
Jon looked at Sansa in shock. "You want to learn how to fight?"
"I want to learn the bow and arrow, and how to use a dagger. It will help. You said girls over the age of ten needed to train," Sansa clasped her hands behind her back.
"I'll teach you archery, Jon is shit with a bow and arrow. Sorry your grace," Arya smirked.
"Jon can show me how to use a dagger, he's taller than you and stronger. It will be more realistic." Sansa looked at Jon.
"Glad to know I'm good for something other than being taken the piss out of," Jon rolled his eyes.
"Lucky Tormund isn't here," Sansa japed. "Or Edd."
Jon sat down on the stump. "Gods I'm going to miss the people we've left behind."
"Daenerys." Arya mouthed to Sansa, who nodded. "I don't know. At least we won't have to put up with Beric and his Lord of Light shit."
"Not yet." Jon warned.
"We're going nowhere right now." Sansa shook her head. "We're confused. We need a routine to get us back into the idea of being children, while still being ourselves. Which will be easier for you two than me."
"Why?" Jon asked.
"Because I was a bitch to both of you. Now I'm going to have to stay with Beth and Jeyne. At least if you two are seen together, then nobody will question it. I'm not supposed to share the same table as Jon." she rolled her eyes. "I understand why mother was angry, but gods she was awful to you." she lowered her eyes.
"Start acting like a rebellious sulky teen. You might even get away with not being betrothed to your beloved Joffrey." Arya reminded her.
Sansa swallowed with fear. "That won't happen. I'll run away first."
"Sit with Jon and I in the morning when we break our fast. If mother says anything, tell her you are trying to be a better influence on me and if that means having to endure his grace, then so be it." Arya suggested. "Mother will agree to that. We'll tell her we made an agreement, you are to learn archery if I'm to improve my embroidery."
"And I'll sit in the library... alone." Jon rolled his eyes.
"If Sansa and I appear closer, we can join you in the library." Arya said. "Anyway, you need to find a way of teaching her how to use a dagger. If we do still end up at Kings Landing, it might become a necessity."
"I'll get you some material, I can help start you on some girls breeches." Sansa turned to Jon. "Have you got any old pairs I can take apart."
"For me?" Arya frowned.
"No, for me. I'd prefer to train in breeches first, but they need to be altered. Clean ones." Sansa asked Jon. "I'll mend your clothes like I did before."
Jon nodded. "I'll find you a pair. I used to have to mend my own shirts."
"I've been doing it for the last two years," Sansa reminded him.
"Mother won't like it." Arya shook her head.
"Mother doesn't have to know." Sansa told her, she stood and smoothed her skirts. "I need to get back to Lady, she'll be hungry," the other two nodded and followed her out of the Godswood.
Sansa didn't care if anyone saw them coming out together. They were a team and a pack within a pack. Nobody would come between them, not the mother of dragons, and neither would she let her own mother tear them apart.