I'm still working on transforming the show's canon into the canon divergent world I desire. I just become so much more aware of the many things that season 8 had not shown, mentioned or skipped over; which has me to fill a lot of plot holes that I had not initially thought about.
If you haven't played the Game of Thrones Telltale game, I highly recommend reading up the story/lore as some elements of the story of House Forrester will be part of major plot points soon.
Making Plans
Pale winter sunlight filtered into Sansa's bedchamber, stirring her from sleep. She gradually became aware of a warm body curled against her back and gentle lips nuzzling at her bare shoulders.
"Mmm...Mya," Sansa murmured drowsily, a smile spreading across her face. She rolled over to face her wild lover.
"Good morning, my lady," Mya whispered, trailing kisses along Sansa's collarbone before taking a rosy nipple into her mouth.
Sansa gasped, arching into the pleasurable sensation. She threaded her fingers through Mya's tousled black hair.
"What a delightful way to wake," Sansa breathed. She captured Mya's lips in a long, slow kiss.
Mya grinned and pressed her strong thigh between Sansa's, making her gasp as embers of desire reignited. But too soon, Mya broke their deep, lingering kiss and made to slide from the rumpled bedsheets.
"Forgive me, my lady. I should take my leave before the castle wakes and our scandalous affair becomes gossip among the servants," she said regretfully.
Sansa grasped her hand. "Must you go so soon? Stay a while longer," she implored.
Mya smiled ruefully, brushing a strand of hair from Sansa's face. "As tempting as that offer is, I think it best I slip away while the halls are still empty."
She leaned in to steal one more passionate kiss from Sansa's sweet lips before reluctantly pulling away.
"Worry not, we will share each other's company again soon whenever you wish it," Mya assured her. "I am yours to command, my lady. All you need do is send for me."
Sansa sighed but nodded in understanding. She watched Mya dress swiftly and make her exit. Already she longed for their next interlude together. Her bed felt cold and empty without the mule handler's wild, captivating presence.
After Mya's departure, Sansa lay pensively in bed a few moments longer, the scent of their passion still lingering on her sheets. But soon she rose to begin her day's preparations.
She washed and dressed herself simply, donning a modest gray gown befitting the Lady of Winterfell. Sitting at her vanity, she braided back her long auburn locks and tidied her appearance. Though simple, she still looked every inch the proper highborn lady.
Satisfied with her appearance, Sansa made her way to the Great Hall to take account of the castle's needs and meet with any petitioners. As she entered, she found her sister Arya seated at one of the long tables, supping on bread and smoked meat.
"Good morning, sweet sister," Sansa greeted warmly as she joined Arya. "You're up early today."
"I'm breaking fast before a riding lesson with the troops," Arya replied between bites. "Care to join me after?"
Sansa smiled and shook her head. "Thank you, but I must see to my duties here. Perhaps later we can walk the ramparts together?"
Arya nodded agreeably and they passed a companionable breakfast discussing castle affairs. Sansa enjoyed this newfound closeness with her sister, so different from their childhood squabbles.
As the sisters spoke, Ser Jaime and Brienne entered the hall looking slightly dishevelled. Jaime's golden hand rested intimately at the small of Brienne's back as they took their seats. A new closeness was evident between the pair.
Arya raised a knowing eyebrow at Sansa. "You're looking rather cheerful today as well, dear sister. Pray tell, who put that smile on your face last night?" she asked cheekily.
Sansa blushed but ignored the jape. Just then, Jaime whispered something to Brienne that made her flush and duck her head, though her lips curved upward.
Arya snorted. "Seems we're not the only ones glowing after some late night revels, hmm?"
"That's quite enough, Arya," Sansa chided, though she hid a grin.
Soon Jon entered with Queen Daenerys on his arm. Arya and Sansa both rose to embrace their half-brother warmly.
"Good morrow, Jon. Your Grace," Sansa inclined her head politely to Daenerys as they all took their seats again.
Though Sansa harboured doubts about the Dragon Queen's intentions, she was determined to keep tensions at bay for her family's sake. Daenerys responded to the sisters' courtesy with cool civility.
Jon gave Arya and Sansa a knowing look. "I hope you both slept well last night?"
Arya smirked while Sansa ignored the implication. Brienne and Jaime exchanged a discreet glance.
"Very well, thank you," Sansa replied breezily. "And you, brother? Her Grace?"
"Quite well, Lady Sansa," said Daenerys, giving Jon's hand an intimate squeeze.
Servants entered bearing food and drink before more could be said. Sansa steered the conversation to safe matters for the remainder of their repast. Outwardly all seemed tranquil, but behind the pleasantries, complex dynamics and unspoken knowledge simmered beneath the surface.
After they had broken their fast, Queen Daenerys politely excused herself from the hall, mentioning she wished to check on her dragons. Jon stood as well, explaining he and Sansa would hold court to hear petitions from Winterfell's smallfolk and settle disputes.
"Will you join us, sister?" Jon asked Arya with an amused glint in his eye. "Your talents for discerning truth from lies could prove useful."
Arya grimaced. "Ugh, listening to peasants argue over chickens and goats all morning? I'd rather return to the training yard."
She gulped down the last of her ale and made her own swift exit. Jon just chuckled and shook his head at his sister's ways.
As Jon and Sansa made their way to the Great Hall, Brienne shadowed them dutifully. "Shall I stand guard as you hold court, my lady?" she asked Sansa.
"Yes Brienne, please do. Your steady presence always reassures." Sansa gave her sworn shield an encouraging smile. She hoped Brienne's new closeness with Jaime would bring her happiness.
Settling themselves at the high table, Jon and Sansa prepared to receive the smallfolk petitioners queued in the hall entrance and dispense fair justice for the day.
Jon and Sansa spent the morning hearing various petitions and grievances from Winterfell's smallfolk and settling minor disputes as fairly as they could. Most were mundane affairs over land boundaries, stolen livestock or unfair rations.
They had paused for a midday meal when an exhausted messenger was ushered urgently into the hall. "Pardon, m'lord and lady, but I come bearing important news from the Iron Islands."
Jon and Sansa gave him their full attention as he caught his breath.
"The Ironborn under Yara Greyjoy have retaken the islands from Euron. She sails even now to parley with you and the Dragon Queen about an alliance against Cersei Lannister."
Jon and Sansa exchanged an intense look. This was a major development they had not anticipated.
"If Yara Greyjoy comes in friendship, we should welcome her as an ally," Sansa advised. "Her fleet would be invaluable against Cersei."
Jon nodded solemnly. "Aye, you have the right of it. We shall receive the Lady Reaper with cautious optimism and hear her terms."
As Jon and Sansa prepared to adjourn court for the day, another petitioner was shown in - a ragged young man whose face sparked a glimmer of recognition in Jon.
"Beg pardon, m'lord, m'lady...you may not remember me but I served House Forrester at Ironrath. Gared Tuttle." The man shuffled nervously.
Jon's eyes widened in surprise. "Gared? Of the Night's Watch? We heard you deserted after that first ranging beyond the Wall."
Gared flushed with shame. "Aye m'lord, I was scared and weak. Couldn't face what I saw out there."
He explained how he had fled beyond the wall during Ramsey Bolton's reign of terror and reluctantly fought amongst the Wildlings. "I seen the Army of the Dead with my own eyes. Survived Hardhome. When I heard you was King in the North now, I come to try and make amends."
Jon studied him intently before clasping his shoulder. "It seems the gods saw fit to give you a second chance, Gared. Your knowledge could prove useful. Go now and take some food and rest. We'll speak more later."
As Gared turned to leave, he hesitated and glanced back. "Pardon, m'lady, might I beg a private word? I...I've heard troubling rumours about your new powers. Have some knowledge that may be of use."
Jon and Brienne tensed, immediately suspicious of the man's motives. But Sansa calmed them with a hand.
"It's alright. We can speak in my solar after you've rested," she told Gared gently. After he withdrew, Jon rounded on Sansa, face etched with concern.
"This could be dangerous. His intentions may not be good," he warned.
"I agree with Lord Snow, my lady," Brienne said, hand drifting to her sword hilt. "You should not meet with this man alone."
"Peace," Sansa soothed them. "We'll take precautions, but I won't turn away one who claims he can help me understand my powers better. Please, trust me in this."
Jon and Brienne reluctantly acquiesced, insisting on guarding the meeting. Sansa consented, hoping Gared truly did bring valuable knowledge rather than ill intent.
Later after luncheon, Sansa was in her solar discussing strategies with Jon for the upcoming talks with Yara Greyjoy. Sansa paced slowly before the glowing hearth, her brow furrowed in thought as she conversed with Jon. The light from the fire cast a warm glow over her auburn hair and her fine gray gown.
"An renewal of the alliance with Yara Greyjoy could change the course of this war," she said. "With the remnants of Iron Fleet loyal to Yara, supporting Daenerys, Cersei would be surrounded by sea and land."
Sansa came to a stop, twisting her hands together with uncertainty. "Yet the ironborn are known for exploiting any weakness. We must be cautious in negotiations."
Jon uncrossed his arms and pushed off from the carved stone mantel. "Aye, you have the right of it," he agreed. "We must secure terms that guarantee northern independence and lasting trade routes. Anything less invites betrayal."
Sansa nodded, her blue eyes thoughtful as she turned to stare into the flickering flames. It was a delicate line to walk - accepting needed help without compromising their interests. She only hoped the Lady Reaper could be reasoned with when she arrived.
Jon stepped closer and squeezed Sansa's shoulder. "Have faith. You have become quite adept at diplomacy, sweet sister. Together, we will secure the best outcome for our people."
Sansa covered his hand with her own, drawing strength from his reassurance as they prepared for the high-stakes talks ahead.
A sharp rap at the door broke the pensive silence. Brienne entered, hand ready at her sword belt as she ushered in Gared Tuttle. The man looked ragged and weary, but kept his head bowed respectfully.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me, Lady Sansa," he said gruffly.
"Of course. Please, have a seat," Sansa replied in her courteous manner, settling herself gracefully into a high-backed chair.
Jon stepped closer, a silent sentry ready to defend his sister. Brienne took up a watchful post by the door, her armoured form imposing.
Gared sat tentatively on the edge of his chair across from Sansa, looking anxious. He took a bracing breath before speaking.
"Begging your pardon m'lady, but I've heard troubling talk about...strange abilities you supposedly possess," he began carefully. "Powers beyond nature."
Sansa retained her composure, though her hands clenched briefly in her lap. "Go on," she encouraged neutrally.
Gared rubbed his bearded jaw. "I may have picked up some useful knowledge about such things beyond the Wall. If you'll permit me, I'd like to offer any help I can."
Sansa studied him intently, pondering if she dared trust this information from a man who was little more than a stranger.
Gared leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "Before he died at the Red Wedding, Lord Gregor Forrester tasked me with finding and protecting the North Grove. It was a closely guarded secret to House Forrester."
He explained how he had deserted the Night's Watch, compelled by duty to his lord to uncover the mysterious North Grove. "I travelled deep beyond the Wall, further north than I could have ever imagined. And I found it."
Gared's eyes took on a faraway look. "An ancient weirwood, biggest I ever saw, in a hidden valley untouched by men. The whole place thrummed with powerful magic. I knew then why Lord Forrester wanted it protected."
Reaching beneath his tattered vest, Gared withdrew a carved wooden pendant on a cord. "This necklace, made from North Grove ironwood, always glows when magic is near. It shone bright as a star there. And it glowed again when you emerged from the crypts, m'lady, awoken to your powers."
Sansa's eyes widened as she beheld the pendant pulsating with pale blue light in her very presence. Gared's tale was outlandish, yet she could not deny the tangible proof before her. She must know more.
"Tell me everything..."
Encouraged, Gared launched into his full account of discovering the North Grove.
"The valley is protected by a bastard brother and sister of Lord Gregor - Josera and Elsera Snow. Fiercest fighters I ever saw, with bonds to the old gods and the land. They guard the North Grove from those who would misuse its power."
He went on to describe the verdant valley, with weirwoods dotting the landscape, and how an ancient magic permeated the place.
"The White Walkers avoid it...something about the magic disturbs their dark sorcery. Over time, it's become a refuge for Wildlings and northerners fleeing the army of the dead. A few hundred live there now in peace under the Snows' protection."
Sansa and Jon exchanged amazed looks at this revelation. Gared continued sombrely. "When I heard whispers of your powers m'lady, I wondered if you were connected to the North Grove somehow. Thought mayhap its magic could help you understand your abilities."
Sansa leaned back in her chair, contemplating all Gared had revealed. It was astonishing, yet she sensed truth in his words.
"You have my gratitude for confiding all this, Gared," she said sincerely. "You tried to uphold your oaths best you could, in difficult times. Consider yourself a guest of Winterfell for as long as you wish."
Gared flushed at her undeserved kindness. "You honour me, m'lady, but if it please you, I'd take my leave soon to return north." He fidgeted with his worn sleeves. "I've a woman waiting for me back at the North Grove. Promised her I'd come back."
Sansa smiled knowingly. "Of course. We shall provide you with provisions for the journey. But you must tell us more of this valley before you go."
She stood, signalling their talk was concluded for now. "Rest and refresh yourself. We shall speak again in the coming days."
Gared bowed gratefully and saw himself out. Sansa turned to Jon, new hope and uncertainty warring on her face. This discovery could change much for them both.
After Gared's departure, Sansa began pacing as she processed all she had learned. Jon watched her, brow furrowed.
"This is an unexpected revelation," Sansa murmured. She wrung her hands, conflicted. "Part of me wishes to depart for this North Grove immediately to seek answers about my powers."
Jon stepped closer and grasped her shoulders. "Your restraint shows wisdom, sweet sister. We cannot make any sudden moves yet. Not until we have secured the Greyjoy alliance and reinforced our positions."
Sansa nodded slowly in agreement. "Yes, you have the right of it. I must be patient and attend to matters here first." She gave him a grateful look. "After we have hosted Lady Yara and settled affairs, we can reconsider this North Grove expedition."
Jon smiled and pulled her into an encouraging embrace. "Together we will unravel the truth about these strange gifts you possess. But for now, let us focus on the battles ahead, one step at a time."
Comforted by her brother's solid counsel, Sansa felt her anxiety subside. They would face each challenge as it came, grounded and united. She only prayed it would be enough for the wars to come.
Later that day, Daenerys called a war council with her advisors and the Stark siblings. They gathered around the painted table in Winterfell's strategy room, the mood tense.
"Now that the dead are defeated, we must swiftly move on King's Landing and seize the Iron Throne before Cersei has time to regroup," Daenerys declared, violet eyes flashing.
Sansa cleared her throat delicately. "Your Grace, if I may suggest a more cautious approach? Our troops have only just survived a brutal battle. Morale remains unsteady. They would benefit from additional recovery time before marching south."
Tyrion nodded thoughtfully, while Daenerys' lips thinned in displeasure.
"Lady Sansa makes a fair point," Tyrion said. "A hasty march risks rebellion or desertion. The men need time to rest and regain their strength."
Daenerys tapped her fingers on the table impatiently. "Every day we delay allows Cersei more opportunity to fortify the city and rally fresh troops."
Sansa kept her tone respectful but firm as she addressed the Dragon Queen. "Your Grace, I beg you to consider the ships the Greyjoy fleet could provide. With their aid, we need not fear attack from the sea by Euron."
Daenerys' violet eyes flashed with impatience. "Lady Sansa, our armies have already delayed overlong. We cannot wait indefinitely for Yara Greyjoy's uncertain arrival. The Iron Fleet must not dictate our conquest."
Sansa held her ground. "Which is why we should delay just a while longer for their ships to join our cause. With our current naval forces, Euron has free rein to raid up and down the western coast."
She glanced at Tyrion who gave her an approving nod. Even Grey Worm looked thoughtful at her logic.
Daenerys pressed her lips together, reluctantly conceding the point. "Very well, if Yara Greyjoy arrives within seven days we will delay for her fleet. But not a moment longer."
Sansa dipped her head graciously. "That would be most prudent, your Grace. Thank you for heeding my counsel."
It was not the full delay she had hoped for, but Sansa was satisfied she had won them extra time for recovery and reinforcements. Giving Daenerys some concession in return seemed wise political strategy.
As the council adjourned, Daenerys' gaze turned piercing as she addressed Sansa directly. "My lady, if we are to be allies, I would know more about your...abilities. What is their extent?"
Sansa chose her words carefully under the intensity of Daenerys' violet gaze. "In truth, your Grace, I am still uncovering the extent of these powers myself. They came on sudden as a winter storm, without warning or reason."
She clasped her hands, searching internally for how best to describe the mysterious sensations. "I feel...energy, like a deep wellspring within seeking release. At times visions come unbidden, glimpses of possible futures or events far away."
Sansa hesitated, uncertain how much to reveal. But if they were to build trust, honesty was needed. "I have some control over ice and snow, as you saw in the courtyard."
She shook her head slowly. "Yet I confess, I do not fully comprehend the limits or potential of these gifts. They are new and strange to me. I know only that the magic awakened in me grows stronger by the day."
Sansa met the Dragon Queen's probing stare evenly, refusing to be intimidated. When Daenerys questioned whether she posed a threat, Sansa replied sincerely: "I swear to you, by the old gods and the new, I have no ambition for the Iron Throne. These powers are not something I sought out or desired."
She clasped her hands tightly to still their shaking. "All I wish is to guard the North and protect my family. To find answers about this magic I scarcely understand."
Daenerys listened closely, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, judging her words. Finally, she gave a brief nod. "See that your abilities remain focused on our shared foes, then, and do not turn against my interests."
The warning in her tone was clear. Sansa bowed her head deferentially. "Of course, Your Grace. You have my word."
But privately Sansa bristled at the Dragon Queen's threatening implication. She was no enemy unless made so. For now, she would tread carefully, keeping her powers veiled and restrained, until Daenerys proved a worthy ally and not a dangerous foe. The game of thrones was on.
It was dusk, the fading sun casting long shadows across the courtyard. Sansa was headed to her chambers, desiring only a cup of warm spiced wine before bed and maybe finding Mya. The day's tensions had worn on her.
Yet as she crossed the walkway, a commotion arose from the main gate. Raised voices and cries of shock echoed up to her. Sansa lifted her skirts, rushing down the steps to discover the source of the chaos.
She arrived to find Ser Davos had just ridden in, and there upon his horse behind him - miraculously alive - was Princess Shireen Baratheon. The girl's head was bowed, her face obscured by lanky hair, but the distinctive scars of greyscale marked her unmistakably.
Sansa gasped, astounded. Around her, common folk and soldiers erupted into exclamations of disbelief and outrage. Princess Shireen had supposedly been sacrificed by her own parents years ago. How could this be?
Davos raised his hands, calling loudly for calm. But the crowd pressed in, demanding answers. Shaking, Shireen clung to Davos, keeping her face hidden as fearful tears fell.
Once Shireen was hurried away by guards to isolated guest chambers, Sansa gathered the stunned Davos and her inner circle privately.
"Speak, Ser Davos. How has the sacrificed princess returned to us?" she demanded.
Davos rubbed his beard wearily. "It was the Red Woman's final deed, before she sacrificed herself to her god. Somehow, some way, her last act was to bring Princess Shireen back, though I know not how."
Davos recounted finding Shireen in a daze after the battle, weak and disoriented but miraculously whole again. Guilt and awe warred on his bearded face as he described the incomprehensible resurrection.
Sansa listened intently, lips pursed in thought. She had never trusted the Red Woman or her blood magic. Yet it seemed in her final act, Melisandre's powers had restored the innocent girl she previously burned alive - perhaps a last redemptive deed.
As Davos spoke, Sansa noted Arya slip quietly from the hall to follow after Shireen. Ever protective of the vulnerable, her sister had gone to ensure the shaken princess was comfortably situated away from prying eyes.
Sansa's lips curved in a small, approving smile. She would have done the same. Arya had become more than just a fighter - she was learning to guard the innocent and weak once more.
Returning her focus to Davos, Sansa considered carefully. This astonishing return of Stannis' heir was explosive news, with deep implications for justice and the realm.
Arya followed the Princess Shireen as she was ushered by guards to a private chamber. The girl kept her head down, long hair concealing the greyscale scars on her face. She trembled like a frightened animal.
Once inside, Arya gently dismissed the maids and guards. "You're safe here," she said softly to Shireen. "No one will hurt you again, I promise."
Shireen finally lifted her eyes, filled with trauma and uncertainty. Arya felt a swell of sympathy for the abused girl.
With care, she and two trusted maidservants helped Shireen out of her tattered dress and into a warm bath, washing the grime of hard travel away. They treated her ruined flesh with gentle reverence. Afterwards, she was wrapped in soft robes and settled by the fire with hot soup.
Arya kept up a steady stream of calm chatter, telling Shireen about Winterfell's soaring towers, the hot springs under the castle, and the haunting beauty of the godswood.
Gradually, the shy princess began to relax, the tension easing from her frail shoulders. Colour slowly returned to her wan, scarred cheeks.
When Arya made her laugh by recounting funny childhood tales, it was like the sweet trill of birdsong after an endless winter. Arya felt something catch in her chest at that musical sound.
At that moment, as Shireen's pale eyes lit up with merriment, Arya was struck by a bolt of lightning. Never had she heard a more beautiful laugh or seen a lovelier vision. For a brief instant, looking upon Shireen's gentle smile, Arya's heart gave a thunderous throb that left her breathless.
She wasn't sure what this feeling was, blossoming sudden and warm beneath her breast. But she knew she would do anything to make Shireen laugh like that again, to see those eyes shine bright with joy untainted by sorrow.
Arya sat back, startled by the intense reaction Shireen's laugh provoked in her. She felt her cheeks grow hot, a blush spreading unbidden across her face. What was happening?
She had shared plenty of laughter with her brothers and sister growing up. Yet somehow Shireen's delighted trill had pierced her heart like an arrow, leaving her breathless in a way she'd never experienced before.
Seeing that bright sparkle of joy light up Shireen's lovely blue eyes again made Arya's pulse race wildly. She couldn't tear her gaze away, mesmerized by this girl's gentle beauty.
This felt nothing like her brief, passionate tryst with Gendry. That had been impulsive desire, fleeting as a spring storm. But Shireen stirred something far deeper and tender within her - a wellspring of emotion Arya scarcely recognized.
She only knew she wanted to remain by Shireen's side, to draw out more of that musical laughter and protect the hope shining in those depthless eyes. Shireen made her feel things she had never thought possible, awakening a longing in Arya for so much more than duty or vengeance.
For now, she could only blush and marvel at this blossoming gift fate had unexpectedly granted her.
I hope you liked that chapter; the next one will be a bit more engaging again.
I mentioned that this story will have elements of Warhammer Fantasy; originally, I had planned to make Sansa some kind of reincarnation of Tzarina Katarin Bokha, the Ice Queen of Kislev; but I scratched that plan and I came up with the idea of including the North Grove from the Telltale games.
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