I'm very sorry for the long delay for this chapter, but I had got sick, then came the Easter holidays and then I spend way too long contemplating how I wanted to pace this chapter since it is Sansa's travel north of the wall.

I have now decided on putting Sansa's journey (about 900 miles) into one chapter; using unreliable sources from the internet and D&D 5e PHB tables I estimated it took about three weeks.

Somewhere far beyond

The next day saw the bustle of preparations as forces readied to march. Sansa stood in the courtyard with Jon and Arya to bid them farewell.

"I wish you both safe journeys," Sansa said, embracing her siblings warmly. "Take care of each other on the road ahead."

"And you as well, sister," Jon replied. "Hopefully this will be the last we have to part ways for battle."

Arya nodded. "Once Cersei falls, we can finally all be together at Winterfell again."

Just then, Daenerys approached with Tyrion, Grey Worm and her Bloodriders. "It's time. The ships await us in White Harbor."

Tyrion clasped Sansa's hand. "I promise you, my lady, we will soon return and restore your family's rightful place."

With final embraces, the forces split - Jon leading the northern troops south on the kingsroad while Daenerys' forces headed for White Harbor and the sea voyage ahead.

Sansa watched them go with Brienne steady at her side. After they faded from view, she turned to her sworn sword. "Come Brienne. Adventure awaits us to the north."

After the others had departed, Sansa and Brienne prepared their own smaller party for the journey north.

They met Tormund, Meera Reed and Jaime Lannister in the courtyard with a few household guards. Brienne shot Jaime a small smile, glad he would be accompanying them.

"Ready for an adventure, my wildling friend?" Sansa asked Tormund light-heartedly, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Hah! Always ready for a good quest, little red wolf," he proclaimed boisterously.

Meera just nodded silently, her alert gaze scanning the treeline beyond the castle walls.

"Right then, let's be off," Sansa declared. She felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of uncovering mysteries in the ancient north grove.

With Brienne steadfast at her side, along with their motley assortment of companions, Sansa felt fully confident in facing whatever lay ahead.

Their party departed Winterfell, riding north along the kingsroad towards Castle Black. Sansa knew the Night's Watch could provide them with scouts familiar with the lands beyond the Wall.

As they travelled, Brienne kept close beside her lady. "Do you really think it's wise to venture past the Wall, my lady?" she asked, unable to mask her concern.

"I must know what threats may still linger there," Sansa replied resolutely. "With Jon gone south, it falls to me to protect the North."

Brienne nodded solemnly. "Then I will shield you, no matter the peril."

It took a week before the Last Hearth appeared on the horizon. Sansa requested a meeting with Sigorn Thenn, the new Magnar of the free folk. After brief but fruitful talks; the newly proclaimed Lord Thenn was thankful for his new status and happily helped the Lady of Winterfell. Sigorn assigned two Thenns as guides to lead Sansa's party through the Haunted Forest towards the weirwood grove beyond the Wall.

Though apprehensive, Brienne and Jaime prepared themselves for the path ahead. Sansa noticed the two warriors riding closely together, drawing strength from each other. She smiled, happy to see the bond between them growing.

As they journeyed, Sansa found herself often in the company of the boisterous wildling Tormund. His outlandish tales and jokes made her laugh frequently.

"Tell me more about your people," Sansa asked him during one ride. "I find their ways so fascinating."

Tormund smiled, pleased by her interest. He told her of their ancient customs, how they viewed the world and the old gods differently from those south of the Wall. Sansa listened with rapt attention, enjoying gaining new knowledge from Tormund's unique perspective.

In the evenings when they camped, she observed Brienne and Jaime sitting together near the fire, speaking privately in hushed tones. Their obvious closeness warmed her heart.

After another week of riding north, their party finally reached the imposing Wall and Castle Black. Sansa gazed up in awe at the massive expanse of ice, standing over seven hundred feet tall. She felt utterly humbled and small before its ancient, unknowable presence.

"Gods, I've heard about it countless times, yet seeing it for the first time completely takes my breath away," she murmured.

Brienne nodded, her head craned back to follow the Wall's ascent into the clouds. "An incredible feat of engineering. It's hard to fathom how it was constructed over eight thousand years ago."

At Castle Black, they were welcomed by the few remaining members of the Night's Watch. Alongside them were some wildlings who had settled at the castle, keen on integrating with the Watch rather than fighting them any longer.

Tormund laughed cheerfully at the sight. "About time you kneelers realized we're on the same side! Took you long enough."

Sansa was heartened to see the Night's Watch and free folk working together amiably at Castle Black. It gave her hope that the long history of conflict between their peoples could finally be mended.

"Perhaps we can forge a new path forward, one of mutual trust and respect," she mused aloud.

Tormund gave her a broad grin. "Aye, you southerners aren't so bad once you pull those longclaws out of your asses."

He laughed while Brienne and Jaime exchanged bemused looks at his crass candor. But Sansa appreciated Tormund's optimism.

After taking on supplies for the next leg, their party prepared to depart, led by two surefooted Thenn guides, into the Haunted Forest.

As their party rode forth from Castle Black, Sansa felt a shiver of anticipation as the Wall's long shadow fell over them. Passing beneath the ancient ice once more, she was acutely aware they were venturing into lands unseen by her people, except her two brothers, for centuries.

The dense Haunted Forest sprawled before them, dark and foreboding. Tales of giants, direwolves and sinister creatures lurked in the back of Sansa's mind. Yet she refused to let apprehension take root. With Brienne, Jaime, Tormund and their guides at her side, she felt reassured.

Sansa turned to Brienne and saw her own eagerness mirrored in her sworn sword's steady blue gaze. After facing the horrors of the Long Night together, the darkness held less fear for them now.

"Ready, my lady?" Brienne asked. Sansa gave a firm nod.

"Let us see what mysteries these woods hold," she declared, nudging her horse forward alongside Brienne's.

As their party journeyed deeper into the Haunted Forest, Sansa felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach despite her resolve. She had never been this far north before, let alone beyond the Wall. The dense woods and gloom-shrouded trees made her skin prickle with apprehension.

She glanced around at her companions. Brienne rode steadily as ever, one hand resting on her sword hilt as she scanned their surroundings for any sign of danger. Jaime kept close to Brienne's side, his green eyes wary. Behind them, Tormund hummed an odd little tune, seemingly unperturbed by their strange surroundings.

Sansa edged her horse nearer to Brienne's. "This forest lives up to its haunted name," she murmured uneasily. "Does it not fill you with foreboding?"

Brienne gave her an understanding look. "I cannot deny there is power here beyond our ken. But do not let fear overtake you, my lady. I am sworn to protect you, no matter what lays ahead."

Brienne's steadfast strength reassured Sansa, keeping her fears at bay. Yet as the dense forest enclosed them in an ever-tightening net of twisted branches and creeping shadows, she could not stop an icy shiver.

Sansa had survived the viper's nest of King's Landing and the bloody horror of war. But this living, breathing wood was something else entirely - ancient beyond reckoning and guarded by forces unseen. There was power here, old and wild.

She glanced uneasily at the pale bark of the sentinels looming overhead. The trees appeared watchful, following their passage with invisible eyes. It was if the forest itself was tracking their intrusion into its time-worn domain.

The further they rode into the Haunted Forest, the colder the air became. Sansa shivered beneath her cloak, her breath frosting in the frigid northern air. She felt small and exposed beneath the towering sentinels.

Sansa tried to suppress her shivering as the icy northern winds cut through her cloak. Tormund glanced over and chuckled at her obvious discomfort.

"The true North not agreeing with you, little red wolf?" he teased lightly. "You southern folk don't have the constitution for this climate."

He began rummaging in his pack, eventually pulling out a heavy fur coat. "Here, this ought to help keep you from turning into an ice statue like your pretty brother."

Sansa gratefully accepted the offered coat. The thick, warm bear pelt instantly enveloped her in much-needed warmth.

"I may have been raised in the south, but I'm still of the North by blood," she replied, giving Tormund a wry yet appreciative smile. "Winter's chill cannot defeat a Stark, no matter how it tries."

Tormund let out a hearty guffaw at her stubborn words. "Well said, girl! You kneelers are softer than baby seals, but you've got fire in your belly nonetheless."

Tormund's words of praise resonated deeply with Sansa, making her sit up straighter and taller upon her horse. Though the bleak forest sought to oppress her spirit, she refused to bend or break. Looking at her companions - Brienne, Jaime, Tormund, Meera - their stalwart presences fortified her courage like castle walls.

She glanced at each of them in turn, drawing strength from their determination and loyalty. With them at her side, she felt emboldened to continue venturing into this ominous land.

Sansa took a deep, steadying breath, the icy air burning in her lungs. She was a Stark, born of the harsh winters and ancient ice that forged the North. This was her heritage.

"Onward," she declared, her voice ringing clear and steady. "I will not be swayed from my purpose."

Led by their wildling guides, they pressed further into the shadowed woods. Sansa rode with her head held high, resolved to uncover whatever secrets lay hidden in this uncharted domain. She was the Lady of Winterfell, a wolf of the North. And she would not yield.

After several more days of riding deeper into the Haunted Forest, their party finally reached the wildling encampment nestled near the ancient weirwood grove. Sansa was surprised to see many free folk who had escaped the Night King but refused to journey south, preferring their old ways.

Tormund greeted many by name, clasping arms warmly. "Good to see you still breathing, you stubborn goats!"

The wildlings welcomed them with curiosity, staring at the unfamiliar southern party. Sansa did her best to appear composed though she felt quite out of place.

At last, they approached the weirwood grove itself. Sansa gasped aloud when the heart tree came into view, awestruck by its sheer massive size.

The carved weirwood towered above all the surrounding sentinels, its bone-pale trunk wider than a cottage. The crown spread overhead, a mesh of blood-red leaves blocking out the very sun itself. Sansa had never seen a weirwood so titanic and ancient.

"Gods be good..." Jaime muttered in hushed reverence beside her. Even he seemed humbled by the divine presence of the colossal tree.

Sansa dismounted slowly, unable to take her eyes off the weirwood's brooding visage. She could feel power thrumming through its carved face, the old gods watching them intently.

"We stand before the most sacred place in the North," she said solemnly. With utmost care, their party approached the gargantuan heart tree to unravel its enigmas.

Sansa's awed proclamation was punctuated by the whispers and murmurs of the wildlings gathering around them. Their party was soon surrounded by the curious free folk, eyeing the unfamiliar southern visitors.

Suddenly the crowd parted as two women strode forward purposefully. One was tall and blonde, with braided hair and a spear clasped in hand. "I am Val, sister of Dalla and princess of the free folk," she introduced herself boldly.

Beside Val stood an unusually tall blonde woman, even taller than Brienne, with ethereal beauty. Clad in strange bronze and brass armour, she had remained silent, her pale blue eyes boring into Sansa intensely.

Without warning, the woman drew a curved blade unlike any Sansa had seen, pressing it sharply against her throat.

Sansa froze as the cold metal bit her skin. Her companions started forward but halted as the woman glared wildly.

"You have the red hair of Morgana, who seduced my husband Arthur and caused his ruin!" the woman shouted angrily, her voice shaking. "Her witchcraft brought down the greatest man alive."

She pressed the blade tighter to Sansa's throat, her eyes wild. "You are Morgana reborn! Your incestuous affair with your brother destroyed everything we worked for."

Sansa stared back confused. "I don't know any Arthur or Morgana. I'm Sansa of House Stark. I mean you no harm."

The woman scoffed. "Lies! I am Gwenhwyfar, and I know your true face, witch. You may claim innocence, but it's only a matter of time before your wickedness is exposed."

Sansa raised her hands slowly. "I swear I'm not who you think. Let's talk this through - you'll see I'm telling the truth."

Val grabbed Gwenhwyfar's arm, pulling her back. "Stand down. We should talk before this gets out of hand."

Gwenhwyfar glared at Sansa, breathing hard. Brienne, Jaime, Meera and Tormund all drew their weapons warily. The tension was palpable.

"She's Morgana reborn, I know it!" Gwenhwyfar shouted, trying to break Val's grip. "We can't trust her lies."

Val kept a firm grip on Gwenhwyfar's arm. "Put down your weapon," she insisted. "Let's talk this through calmly."

Gwenhwyfar glared furiously at Sansa, looking ready to attack them all. But finally, she lowered her strange curved blade.

"I've got my eye on you, witch," she spat at Sansa. "Try anything and you'll regret it."

Sansa exhaled in relief as her friends hesitantly sheathed their swords. The situation remained tense, but more violence had been avoided for now.

Val guided them towards her large tent, wanting more privacy to sort out this confrontation. "Come, let's discuss this matter away from prying eyes," she said sternly to Gwenhwyfar.

Inside the tent, Val bade them all sit. Gwenhwyfar kept glowering at Sansa, her hand still on her sword hilt.

"Now," Val said calmly. "Tell us plainly - why do you believe this woman is your ancient enemy reborn?"

Sansa met Gwenhwyfar's intense glare. "I swear to you, I'm not this Morgana. I will answer any questions honestly."

Gwenhwyfar scoffed. "Deny all you like, but it's clear you are her twin. The red hair, the sharp features - you are Morgana reborn."

She leaned forward, eyes blazing. "I was wife to the once and future king, Arthur Pendragon. Together we ruled the great kingdom of Albion in a realm beyond this one. But then Morgana, Arthur's half-sister, seduced and deceived him with her dark magic."

Sansa listened in dismay as Gwenhwyfar recounted her outrageous tale. She claimed Arthur's sister Morgana had seduced him into an incestuous affair, bearing his bastard child Medrawd. Years later, this same child had grown up to kill Arthur in battle, leading to the ruin of their kingdom.

"I stood helpless as everything we built collapsed because of that vile witch," Gwenhwyfar seethed, her eyes burning with hatred. "Now here you come, the very likeness of Morgana, ready to spread chaos again."

Sansa vehemently shook her head. "While horrifying, I have no connection to what you describe. I've never heard of Albion, Arthur, Morgana or any of it before today. You've clearly endured terrible tragedy, but I'm not this villain you believe me to be."

Gwenhwyfar's piercing eyes seemed to bore into Sansa's very soul. But Sansa stared back unflinchingly, willing the tormented woman to accept her sincerity.

Finally, Gwenhwyfar continued her fantastical tale: "After Arthur fell and Albion collapsed, I sought to return to Avalon, the blessed isles hidden in mist from whence I came. But dark forces prevented my passage home."

Her face twisted bitterly. "Instead, I found myself stranded here; as a stranger in a strange land, far from Avalon's shores; somewhere far beyond. At first, I believed dark powers banished me here, damned for all time."

She jabbed an accusing finger at Sansa. "Then you appeared, the very image of the witch who destroyed my life. I was certain sinister magic brought us together to torment me anew."

Sansa entreated sincerely, "I know not of Avalon, but it's clear you are lost and hurting. Let us aid you in finding your way again."

Gwenhwyfar seemed torn, desperate to hope yet afraid. "Your words ring true, though I scarcely dare believe. If you speak honestly, perhaps there is light left."

But then, with startling speed, Gwenhwyfar snatched a dagger from her belt and hurled it straight at Sansa. Before her protectors could react, the blade flew swift and true.

Acting on pure instinct, Sansa threw up her hands. To her shock, a shimmering panel of ice materialized in the air before her. The dagger clanged off it with a spray of frost, falling harmless to the floor.

Gwenhwyfar stared in disbelief as the icy barrier dissolved into mist. Sansa looked at her hands, stunned by what she had done.

Gwenhwyfar appraised Sansa curiously. "You possess ancient magic, Lady Stark, just as Morgana did of old."

Still stunned, Sansa shook her head in confusion. "I don't know how I conjured ice from nothing..."

Then revelation struck - the dark powers from the Night King, that had made her its host. Since his defeat, her abilities had grown subtly. But never so strongly as now.

Sansa's eyes lit up as she pieced it together. "The Night King's death must have sent ripples through the magical realms," she explained. "Twisting our fates and awakening my dormant powers."

Sansa continued giving her a detailed retelling of their fight against the Night King, White Walkers, undead and the horrors of the long night.

Gwenhwyfar looked puzzled. "Night King? I know nothing of this frost demon you describe, nor of white walkers. Such beings did not exist in Albion."

Sansa nodded, realizing Gwenhwyfar's ignorance. "The Night King was an ancient evil, commanding legions of the dead. He was destroyed south beyond the Wall not long ago in Winterfell."

She met Gwenhwyfar's gaze intently. "His passing unleashed potent magic - enough to bridge worlds and bind our destinies, it seems."

Understanding crossed Gwenhwyfar's face. "This Night King's end could have ruptured the walls between worlds. Calling to me and igniting our innate abilities."

To demonstrate, she raised her hand and conjured an icy barrier around it with ease. Sansa's eyes widened. Gwenhwyfar dismissed the frost, looking thoughtful.

"Our matching gifts of cold cannot be mere chance," she mused. "The threads of fate have woven us together."

Yet wariness lingered in her eyes. Sansa knew Gwenhwyfar still held doubts about her true identity.

Reading her hesitation, Gwenhwyfar sighed. "I see Morgana's shadow in you still. But you have dealt sincerely, thus I shall keep faith."

She met Sansa's gaze directly. "I remain guarded, however. Prove yourself, Lady Stark, and in time we shall know true allies from false."

Sansa inclined her head respectfully. "I understand your caution. I will demonstrate only honour and honesty henceforth."

Gwenhwyfar gave a nod of acceptance. Steps had been taken, but trust would need to be earned on both sides. Together they would unravel the mystery of their intertwined destinies.

The tense atmosphere in the tent gradually dissipated as Val mediated calmly between them. Sansa's companions lowered their guard as Gwenhwyfar's hostility faded.

Val brought food and drink, urging them to partake together. As they ate, the mood lifted, tensions giving way to cautious optimism.

Sansa recounted their journey beyond the Wall, seeking knowledge to protect the realms of men. Gwenhwyfar told fantastical tales of her home, the mystical isle of Avalon and the realm of Albion.

Though still guarded with each other, glimmers of mutual understanding emerged. They found common ground in their desire to unlock the secrets of magic and safeguard innocents from darkness.

As the afternoon wore on, Sansa felt the dynamics shifting. Wary hostility was replaced by budding curiosity on both sides. Gwenhwyfar studied her not with suspicion, but interest as they exchanged perspectives.

As Sansa stepped outside, she took a deep, invigorating breath of the crisp northern air. Though perils still lurked beyond the Wall, progress had been made - a tentative bond forged with the tormented Gwenhwyfar.

Suddenly, a thunderous cry rang out, shaking Sansa to her core. The shriek echoed with an unnatural volume, like a bird's screech amplified hundredfold. It seemed to emanate from the blood-red crown of the colossal weirwood.

Sansa's hands flew to her ears, but the piercing scream penetrated her skull. Around her, everyone else was similarly affected, cringing and staggering.

The sound felt physical, vibrating her very bones. Sansa feared her eardrums would rupture from the onslaught. Just when she thought she could bear no more, the scream abruptly ceased.

In the ringing silence that followed, Sansa tentatively lowered her hands. Her ears still ached from the auditory attack. Around her, the wildlings looked deeply shaken, some with blood trickling from their ears.

"By the gods...what sorcery was that?" Gwenhwyfar exclaimed, her face pale.

Sansa shook her head, equally disturbed. "I know not...but it came from the weirwood for certain."

Apprehension filled her as she stared up at the carved face. Something ancient and powerful dwelt within the titanic tree. And it knew they were here.

Well, when I said that I wanted to include elements from Arthurian legends I meant it and there is much more to come, also taking inspiration from some Marvel movies there will be a multiverse situation.

Also, I hadn't planned it, but this chapter also became a love letter to my favourite band Bling Guardian in the last third. I listened to so much of their music especially their albums: Tales from the Twilight World, Somewhere Far Beyond and Imaginations from the Other Side. Their music helped so much to keep writing and to keep going.

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