Crows and ravens circled outside of her window with their caws and croaks sweeping over Winterfell. More and more came each day with their dark wings and echoing cries. Sansa lifted her head to gaze at one that rested upon her window sill. This one was silent and met her eyes with its dark one. She turned away from it.
An opened letter lay on her desk. The pages were beginning to fray and parts of it were crumpled, as if the reader balled it up and straightened it out again.
Sansa sat at her desk looking over her ledger for a third and fourth time. Making sure all her numbers and inventory were correct, before handing it over to her steward for a final check.
A map of the north was laid out beside the ledger. Small, palm sized banners of each of the great houses littered the topography. Several notes were written in Sansa's hand under each emblem.
Her eyes strayed towards the letter before shaking her head and returning to her notes and numbers. She used to hate maths, but over the years she had learned that numbers made sense. Numbers were logical and calculated. Mistakes were made because of her own limitations and it only resulted in her recounting or trying another sequence. Maths she could understand.
She made a note on the paper to send more linen and textiles to Meera Reed in the Neck. Her trade agreement with Dorne and the Reach offered new fabrics to be dispersed to her people in the North. Sansa found that in particular the humid summer of Greywater Watch was not as forgiving with certain fabrics and needed breathable material.
Her gaze slowly moved up the map of the North from the Neck to Moat Cailin and into White Harbor. Making note of each trade agreement and dispersed goods to and from the North. She paused, staring at the port city. She would need to send out another messenger as they had not responded to her enquiries.
Her eyes strayed from White Harbor to the Sunset Sea in the west and thought of her sister. Arya had not written her back in over a year and she had not seen her since she left with her ship and crew three years ago.
Arya's letters were sporadic, but she did not go three months without sending a letter to herself, Jon, and Bran. Jon's letters were more frequent than any of her siblings, but he shared very little of himself.
His last letter detailed that his ship and crew of free folk had not found any sign of Arya or her ship in the Sunset Sea. He wrote that he would travel further West, until he received any news or found her. His last letter was sent seven months ago.
She felt pressure build in the back of her throat and tried to swallow it down. Her eyes began to well with tears. She took a deep breath and resumed her writing. Her notes were a bit wobblier than usual, but the steward would not remark on her penmanship.
She caught sight of the letter again and grabbed it with a trembling breath. It had been delivered by her brother's crow nearly two weeks ago. She had read the words over and over in that time since and had made all the proper preparations for her brother's arrival. Sansa would allow herself one last reading of its contents before she would burn it in the hearth.
"What's the point of having a brother who can see the past, present, and future, but he can't find his own sister lost at sea," She whispered to herself.
The paper crinkled around her clenched fingers as she read the written words.
Our sister is lost out of my sight and our brother will soon follow her. A Kraken rises from the deep, ready to devour all of the West and beyond. It is too late for us, but not for you. I will meet you in a fortnight.
Sansa felt utter dread at the cryptic words and suddenly she could not breathe. She reached a hand up to rub against her chest trying to alleviate the pressure.
It felt like multiple hands reached into her and wrapped around her insides, squeezing until she would burst. Her breaths began to become labored and harsh. She could hear blood pounding in her ears and a slight ringing noise that slowly began to sound like the caw of a crow. she curled in on herself, trying to alleviate the pressure. She beat a fist against her chest over and over. The pain brought momentarily relief, but not enough to escape her body and mind.
They are dead and lost. Arya is dead. Jon is dead. Bran is no more. Father. Mother. Robb. Rickon. Theon. They are all dead and I am all that is left. Except I am dying now too. This must be death.
Sansa's vision blurred and darkened. Her eyes flashed around the room desperately trying to settle on something, anything that would give her relief.
Her eyes fixated on the map before her. She saw four grey banners with a direwolf's head as its emblem. A banner to the far north, another to the south, and the other at the sunset sea. Hers was placed at winterfell, with a little crown stitched on the direwolf banner, courtesy of Arya. The stitching was atrocious and looked like a haphazard mess of swords rather than a crown, but it was a piece of her sister. At the sight of it, the air rushed out of her.
She closed her eyes and took a breath and another and then another. Her constricted chest unwound as she reopened her eyes to see the Stark banners. Her body untensed and unclenched itself until she was left with an empty, hollow ache. Her eyes began to sting again, but she would not let the tears fall.
She turned away from the map before tossing the letter into the fire. She took one last breath, smoothed her hair, and picked up her pen, returning to the ledger.
Queens did not have time to mourn. Queens could not spiral out of control. She knew what happened to Queens who did.
A knock sounded at her door. One of the knights of the vale, the maester, and her head maid announced themselves.
Sansa allowed her face to smooth over and put on a smile, though it did not reach her eyes.
"You may enter."
All bowed and rose before her with a respective, "My queen."
The maester spoke first, "The king of the six kingdoms is waiting for you in the Godswood my lady. He said to meet him there."
Sansa's smile froze then relaxed again.
Sansa looked back at her desk before meeting the maester's eyes, "Tell Lord Cerwyn to collect these notes and look over them. Have him add what he thinks I have missed."
She turned to the knight, "Take some of your men and notify the northern lords that the King has arrived and should await him in the great hall. Take care with how this news is delivered, they have been awaiting his arrival for days."
The knight chuckled as he exited the room, "Yes, my Queen, we will not further ruffle the northern lord's feathers."
Lastly, she turned to her maid, "Alert the cooks to serve the Northern Lords as they are seated in the great hall. Let the ale and wine flow freely."
"Do you think that will help settle the lord's impatience, Your Grace?"
"That and some honeyed words to fill their ears." Sansa motioned the maid to come closer and whispered, "What have you and the others heard around the keep?"
"We have heard whispers of fear about the King's arrival. Most of the northmen are wary of what tidings he brings with him that he could not write in a letter."
Sansa's face remained fixed as her maid went on to say, "My lady, you have brought peace to the North. They do not want their peace to end, nor their independence."
Her maid shifted where she stood and looked away from Sansa's eyes and down at the box and cloak held in her hands.
Sansa leaned forward, "Go on. What else was said?"
Her maid paused before answering, "The Northern Lords believe that all their fears would be assuaged if you marry one of their chosen prospects and produce an heir."
Sansa's benevolent mask briefly fell, but resumed as her maid looked back up into her eyes.
"We shall worry about what my brother has to share first and then we can face the northmen and their wishes for my title and throne."
Sansa glanced at the box and cloak held in her maid's hands and gave a true smile that reached her eyes, "I am glad that you remembered. I have been busy with preparations that I nearly forgot."
The maid unlatched the box and presented the crown that lay inside of the velvet material. It was made of valyrian steel and dragon glass. It had seven sharp points with spikes on either side to resemble swords. At the center of the crown was a direwolf's head facing forward. Six direwolf heads faced the center direwolf with three on the right and three on the left. Azurite stones were inlaid in each of the eyes except for one, which contained rubies.
Six wolves to represent herself and her pack. Arya, Jon, and Bran to her right and Robb, Rickon, and Theon– her fallen brothers, to the left. It was a marvel of Gendry's craftsmanship, whom Arya had patroned to make, for Sansa's first anniversary as Queen in the North. It was a crown of beauty and strength. She would need it for today. Her pack was not with her, but she would have this.
Sansa thanked the maid as she placed the crown atop her red tresses. It fit perfectly atop her head. The maid left after placing the cloak around her shoulders. This cloak was once kingsguard white and soaked with blood. She had stained it back in the vale and kept it in her cedar chest. Later, after she heard of his death, she removed it from her chest and stained it into a darker color, almost black. She would need to borrow his strength today too.
She smoothed down her grey woolen dress-her coronation dress. Bran would not remember it as he did not attend. She was just another crowned queen in his dreams and visions. None of her siblings were there to watch her coronation. She pretended not to feel the sting of it, as there were more important things to dwell on.
Sansa turned to face the mirror. She saw a queen of ice, stone, and steel. The Stark in Winterfell. Sansa Stark, The Queen in the North, Ruler of the North and First Men, The Red Wolf.
Sansa left the warmth of her tower and followed the cries of the crows and ravens into the winter chill of the Godswood. She made her way to the ancient weirwood, with its carved face, before the cold, black pond. She knew her brother would be waiting there.
He sat on the ground beneath the weirwood tree. His head was tilted back against the trunk. The whites of his eyes were visible even at a distance.
At Sansa's approach he moved his head to face her direction. His eyes changed from white to his cold brown gaze.
He dismissed his kingsguard at her arrival and the two were left alone. She noticed that Brienne was not with him.
"She is visiting her father on Tarth." her brother said in his monotone voice
Sansa turned to look at the king. "That explains the delay in her letters."
The silence built between them as Sansa took in her brother, The King of Westeros.
Sansa then bowed a head toward him and he did so in kind, "it is good to see you, Your Grace. I received your letter."
"You have prepared well for my arrival. The north is lucky to have a diligent queen such as you."
Sansa thanked him for the compliment and stared at him expectantly.
She was met with the emotionless, dead eyes of the King and felt gooseflesh form on her arms.
"I have much to tell you sister, and not much time. Are you sure this is something you wish to hear?"
Sansa wrapped the cloak tightly about her and made her way to sit beside him.
"I have thought of little else, but your letter. Please, anything is better than not knowing. You spoke of Arya and Jon."
Bran turned away from her to gaze at the birds circling overhead, "Arya is gone from my sight. I do not know whether she lives or dies. She is simply gone. Jon will follow after her if he has not already. He is slowly slipping from my view."
Sansa felt ice freeze in her veins, "I do not understand. How is she gone? How can you not see them? If there is some way either of them are still alive, surely–"
"They have been swallowed up by the deep. They have gone where I cannot follow," he interrupted.
Sansa stood, "Then we should find them. We should send for more ships and expand our resources. We can chart where they last were and bring them home."
Bran paused and peered up at her, "Perhaps it would be better to show you. Sit beside me once more, Sansa."
Sansa slowly knelt before him, wary of his intentions, "I cannot see as you do brother."
"Perhaps, or perhaps you were not given the chance. It was robbed from you before it could take root. Take my hands."
Sansa hesitantly placed her hands into her brothers.
"Do not fight it. I will show you what I see."
Suddenly, Sansa was not in her body and her mind was not her own. Instead she was falling and falling and falling. As she fell she heard the cries and laughter of all those who came before and after her. She witnessed life, death and rebirth over and over again from the next generation to the next. Until suddenly it became her own thoughts and memories.
She saw her life flashing before her, being rifled through and discarded. Brief flashes of her mother brushing her hair. Her father on the sept of baelor. Lady nuzzling into her face. Ramsay's breath at her neck. Sandor Clegane carrying her over his shoulders out of the riot. Her running into Jon Snow's arms. A dragon flying overhead. An unkiss filled with tears and blood beneath a green burning sky. Rickon being shot by an arrow, too late to reach for Jon. Petyr calling out her name as Arya slit his throat. Her hand holding Tyrion Lannister's own as they hold dragon glass in the other. Theon sobbing in the corner of the room the night of her wedding-
She is both out of her body and inside of it. Distantly she can hear herself screaming again and again, "Get out of my head!"
All at once she is seeing memories that are not her own, but belong to her. She sees a stormy night where her pack is asleep together in her parents bed. She watches as her siblings and parents take turns awaking her from nightmares and bringing her to bed. She sees her pack altogether, warm and safe. She hears the distant sound of voices calling to her, but she does not want to leave this memory. She wants to fall into it and become lost in it forever.
Bran's voice, the caw of a crow, and a voice she has never heard before roar in her ear as one, "Fly Sansa! you must Fly!"
She is drawn out of her memories and is falling into a meadow of ice shards and spikes. She gazes at bodies littered below of those who could not fly and were impaled upon the ice. She will soon meet their fate.
She hears a voice deep from her memories, rough and rasping. Little bird, Little bird, Little bird
Then she spreads her wings and flies. Soaring above the ice, above the trees, into sky and clouds. The body of the fallen forgotten because she is free. Freer than she has ever felt in her existence and will ever feel.
Nameless and numerous voices echo around her on the wind through the air, in the rustle of the leaves. Ancient voices surround and swell around her, but she is not afraid. These voices belong to the Old Gods of her forefathers, of the First Men and the Children of the Forest.
Weirwood trees cover the land for miles and miles beyond her sight. She knows the Old Gods see all and they cry out in anguish and rage. Beneath the rage is fear and she feels it too.
A crow with three eyes falls into place beside her and it speaks again with the three voices merged as one, "You see the beauty and the horror of what it means to fly. What it means to see. But we must move on."
She smells smoke and death in the air. The red keep is crumbling down from dragonfire and the sound of bells ring in the air. Overhead is an outcropping of beach on the Blackwater.
Her eyes see a man bleeding out from his abdomen. He is crawling towards the water until he is halfway submerged in it. Red fills the water covering it entirely with his blood. The water turns from a murky blue to bright red, until suddenly she is flying over the ocean. The man is floating out at sea before he descends down, down, down into the deep. What arises from the deep fills Sansa with a dread and horror she has never felt before.
A creature rises up from the ocean floor, rising and rising, above the clouds and into the sky where she flies. A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with dragon wings. Its voice echoed around the sea and causes waves to crash and swell. The sound rattles her bones and her body aches and trembles at it. Eyes meet her own, one black and one blue. Another eye forms in the middle of the creature's face as it beholds her. This creature is ancient and has existed before even time began.
It's tentacles reach out to writhe and curl around her wings, crushing her. It bellows as it seeks to consume her within its grasp.
A loud caw is heard overhead and the creature turns its gaze to the three eyed raven. She knows innately as the creature releases its hold on her and bellows in a rage that shakes all the seas and creatures below it, that it had once flown too, before it formed into this being.
She suddenly sees Nymeria and Ghost on a ship with black sails and the deck is painted red to better hide the blood that soaks them. There are bodies from the living and the dead tied to the mast of the ship. She averts her eyes for she knows she cannot help them and returns her focus back to the direwolves. She flys hurriedly, beating her wings with all her might and swoops down to them. Her heart is beating violently in her chest and she hears them howling and crying, begging her to turn and fly away before she is swallowed up too. The cries never reach her ears for their tongues have been cut out.
The creature returns its gaze to her and transforms into a man. He is tall with dark hair and a black cloth covers his left eye. The uncovered eye is ice blue. He smiles with his purple lips and it is a terrible thing to behold.
Gnarled fingers reach for her and she is within his grasp again. He pauses before he reaches her and then she hears the deep cries from above and below. The echo of the ancient voices crying out for retribution, for slander, for heresy that a man dares to become a god.
The man transforms back into the creature and the direwolves are swallowed up by the sea into the creatures gaping maw. Then she cannot see at all and when she next opens her eyes she is in the throne room of the red keep.
She stares up at the iron throne where the creature sits, except it is not the throne made of forged steel swords. It is made from the bodies of those sacrificed to summon forth the creature. The three eyed raven sits to the creatures left, but its eyes have been removed and it wears a chain around its neck. At the creatures right she sees herself and someone who is not herself.
Then she is flying above, flying away from this horror. The Old Gods whisper to her on the wind their voices growing louder and louder till all she can hear is their screams.
She is falling again. Falling into the deep. Darkness wraps its tendrils around her and pulls her in.
"Awake now Sansa," She hears the three voices cry out.
Suddenly she is no longer falling into the dark abyss. She is no longer flying. She is not a little bird. She is holding her brother's hands in the Godswood of Winterfell, sitting together beneath the gaze of the weirwood tree. Beneath the gaze of the Old Gods. Red sap falls from the tree's carved face and mouth.
Tears fall from her face as she beholds her brother, "What did you do to me." It was not a question.
He does not answer.
"You warged into me, Brandon Stark."
He nods, offering no absolution or excuse. "I needed you to see."
Sansa ripped her hands away from his and fully wraps her cloak around her, "Do not ever do that again."
"I will not have to because you flew and you will fly again."
Sansa felt herself shiver at all that she had seen and heard. Her tears continued to fall and she did not bother wiping them away.
"I saw Nymeria and Ghost, but they were taken by the sea...Arya and Jon are not coming back are they?" she asked, letting out a choking breath.
"No, they are gone from us, now."
Sansa could not keep it in any longer and she began to sob. Her chest was no longer a hollow ache but an empty wound that would not heal. Now she understood and she wished that she didn't.
Silence aside from Sansa's sobs echoed between them, faced with the knowledge that they were the only two Starks left alive.
Her throat ached but she could not stop her cries, but she needed to know. She cleared her throat before stating, "That creature…it, he– he hurt them and he consumed them."
"The creature wants to consume all of the world and he will succeed."
Sansa snapped her head to look at her brother, "We have faced war. We have faced dragons. We have faced white walkers, death itself. We can defeat this too."
"This creature does not seek death or the end. Because it is death and the end. It is the dread felt by every man as he faces the unknown of existence and it ceases to be."
"What of the man I saw?" Sansa rasped out, trying not to dwell on the horror her brother described.
"The man wants to be worshiped and prostrated as a god. He wants chaos and power to control all life, to give it and destroy it at his whims."
"Who is he?"
"He is Euron Greyjoy," Bran replied.
"Euron Greyjoy is dead. We just saw him die and drown beneath the waters of the blackwater."
"Euron Greyjoy is dead, but Euron "Crow's Eye" is alive and has come to our world. To our time."
Sansa felt another shiver crawl down her spine, "I know you see. I know you fly, but how can we not defeat him knowing all that we have had to face? We have faced death before and we will face it again, one way or another."
"You have seen what he summons and what becomes. You saw the throne and yourself beside him. His queen of ice."
Sansa trembled at his words, "I do not understand."
The wind rustled the leaves of the great weirwood and Sansa could faintly hear whispers of the ancient voices from her vision.
"There is another way. The old gods cry out for it, you have heard their rage and their fear. You hear their whispers now."
Dread filled Sansa as the whispers turned into a howling wind, blowing the branches and stirring up the snow where they sat.
Her brother suddenly grabbed her hands and she turned back to him, "Dear sister, what would you choose if you could change the fate of our past? What if you could go back to the start of it all?"
She looked into her brother's eyes and saw his cold eyes become warm. For a brief moment she saw the boy who climbed the towers of winterfell and wanted to become a knight.
He asked again, "A choice lies before you, Sansa. Would you give up this life? Would you give up being Queen if it meant you could go back to the beginning?"
"Yes," Sansa breathed out before her thoughts could even formulate.
Bran's gaze remained warm before a cloud passed over his eyes.
"There are certain fates you cannot change. Certain things that you may try to change with all your might, but the will of the gods will stop you. Even knowing this, would you still go?"
Sansa could not think. She could hardly wrap her mind around what Bran was saying to her. Distantly she heard herself say, "Yes."
"Then it will be done, sister."
She was brought back to the present as she met the eyes of her brother. Her true brother, not the three eyed raven, not the King, but Bran Stark.
"Bran," She let out a shaky breath, "What is happening?"
Tears filled his eyes and he did not look at all like the cryptic cold crow she had know since she left winterfell. Instead he looked small and weary, both young and old at once. He waved his hand in the air and suddenly a crow with three eyes perched on a branch above them, "He will serve as a guide for you. You have your eyes now and will remember all that happened here."
"I don't know if I still understand Bran, what you are saying and trying to tell me. I do not know what is real and what is not," She brought a hand up to her pounding head, "I cannot think."
"You will see soon."
His eyes turned to the weirwood tree and he took a shuddering breath as if preparing himself for something he did not wish to do.
"Bran?"
"All magic comes with a price and blood must be paid with it. I need your hand, sister."
Sansa held out her hand and flinched as her brother pricked her palm against a fallen twig until it bled. He did the same with his own hand before placing their bleeding palms together.
His eyes turned white and he began to whisper words in a tongue she did not understand for several moments. He dipped his fingers into his wound and left a trail of red against the white bark of the tree.
At last his eyes returned to their normal hue and she saw once more that it was Bran's warm brown eyes staring into her own.
"Is it done?"
Tears began to run down his face, "Not yet."
Suddenly the roots beneath the weirwood began to twist and move around his legs.
Sansa let out a startled gasp and began to pull her brother away.
"Stop Sansa. This needs to happen in order for you to return."
"Then I won't return. I will not go wherever you or the gods are trying to send me. The sacrifice is done. They cannot wish for more."
"I am no more of this world Sansa. You have seen what will happen to me. This is the fate of the three eyed raven. This is my decision to make just as you have yours."
The roots continued to snarl around him, enveloping him deeper and deeper into the tree. It formed a throne around him, raising him high into the tree from the ground where he sat.
He let out a grunt as a root pierced through his side, growing through him. Blood pooled from his wound onto the branches below him.
Sansa reached for her brother trying to wrest the roots and branches away from him. Her fingernails began to chip and bleed as she clawed desperately at the wood. The roots curled around her feet and legs, but she tightly held onto his hand.
"Bran! Please! Tell me what I must do. I can save you brother! Just tell me what to do."
"You cannot save everyone," he gasped out and quickly turned his gaze from her. The cold eyes of The King stared back at her, "When you meet next, you cannot change my fate. I must fall so I can fly."
Tears continued to pour out of her eyes as she continued to grasp onto her brother's hand, not letting go even as roots coiled between her own, "You cannot leave me."
Bran's eyes filled with warmth again, "I am not leaving you, sister. Go to sleep now, when you awake, it will be made right." He released her hand from his grasp. The roots released from her legs and feet. She could only gaze in horror as red poured from his mouth and began to pour from his eyes resembling the carved tree that was killing him.
Sansa began to get drowsy and could hardly keep her eyes open. She fought to stay awake as she watched her brother become entombed by the gnarled branches and roots.
Her brother had a ghost of a smile on his face with blood continuing to poor out of his lips. Sansa could do nothing but watch on in horror.
She does not hear her brother's last words because darkness takes her.