Greetings readers! I am back and hopefully I will continue this story even if slowly. My life is not easy, but we will continue to write because it makes life a little easier. Here are your history notes for this chapter: Harriot Eaton Stanton Blatch was a leader of the National Women's Suffrage movement in New York. She was a political activist born of two political activists, her father- an abolitionist, and her mother, another Suffragette- Elizabeth Cady Stanton. This dialogue is fiction, but she was very real.

In January 9th of 1918, Woodrow Wilson announced publicly his support of the 19th amendment that would grant women the right to vote. This was a huge win for the movement and gave them real weight and legitimacy in political and legislative circles.

The New York Junior League was founded by 19-year old Mary Harriman as a way for women to give back and get involved in making real social change in the community. It was the first of its kind until the movement spread to Boston and subsequently across the country. As New York granted women the right to vote on a State level, the NYJL became a supporter of the women's suffrage movement by canvassing neighborhoods to garner support for the 19th amendment. New York was the epicenter of the women's suffrage movement.

Women doctors were not sent across the water to serve as surgeons until 1918, and even then they were not granted the ranking of officer as their male counterparts and in general were treated as second class citizens. talks about serving started in 1917. For the purposes of the story i am telling, i moved up the timeline a bit. however many women opted out of serving as military surgeons and instead went across the water independently with other organizations such as the Red Cross.

Freud's Interpretation of Dreams was published earlier in the turn of the century, and his writings were well known by the late 1910s. Jung was a more contemporary psychologist, younger than Freud (though they were very close colleagues), and eventually parting from Psychoanalysis theory and methods when developing his own methods and studies around analytical psychology. Both men would go on to be some of the most influential contributors to the field of psychology.

Mary Whiton Calkins was the first woman president of the American Psychology Association in 1915. She was known for her work in memory theory- and the foundational idea that introspection and work had to be put into psychotherapy in order for it to be truly effective. She pursued a doctorate at Harvard university where all 6 professors unanimously agreed she passed her dissertation defense with flying colors, meeting all requirements of a PhD candidate, but unanimously refused to grant her the degree on account of her being a woman. Harvard University has yet to rectify this mistake, even posthumously.

History notes finished, please enjoy this new chapter :)

January 9, 1918- Tyrion Lannister's Brownstone

Sansa arrived at the steps of Tyrion Lannister's brownstone alone. She'd been invited by Shae and Tyrion to a celebratory tea as the papers had announced Woodrow Wilson's public support of a constitutional amendment granting women the right to vote. She didn't tell anyone why she'd been invited to tea. She did not mention her great interest in or support of the suffrage movement either. She'd gotten by in the past by being a passive observer, careful with keeping her thoughts mostly to herself, especially in mixed company. But that didn't feel like her anymore. This new self was still foreign though, and she found herself stumbling through the motions at times. She wasn't sure how to go about being so opinionated on things all of a sudden. What had started as a plan to win Cersei's disapproval, which was very successful, also became a genuine effort for her. She found herself genuinely interested in the effort and thought that perhaps she could maybe play some part in something bigger than herself. It seemed everyone else was finding their own way to do big things. She wanted to find something for herself. Perhaps this new friendship with Shae and Tyrion could be a start to something meaningful for her.

She had decided on more comfortable walking boots trading fashion for functionality, and she walked all the way to the brownstone in a heavy coat and wool frock. Since New Year's Eve with the Lannisters, Sansa had been in excellent spirits. She was determined to spend more time out of the house, trying to have some sense of normalcy through all the strife. She resumed her walks, sometimes with Bran and Rickon to accompany her. She made a point to call on friends, and she particularly enjoyed calling on Shae. She loved hearing her stories about her life and her experiences, and all the women she met during her fight for the cause.

Staying busy and out of the house helped her mood immensely. Inside the Stark home was a constant reminder of those who left, and a constant sadness that deepened with every passing day, following the remaining members of the household like an oppressive shadow. The shadow did dissipate for a brief moment a few days after New Year's Day.

Sansa remembered that she was sitting in her room in front of the fire. It had snowed the day before, and the roads accumulated too much ice for a walk to be a smart idea. She opted instead to stay in her room embroidering by the fire. She was called down to receive the mail, and right there in the stack of correspondence she found a small, cream envelope with her name scribbled on the front in Jon's hand. She stood up a little straighter, her heart beating faster as her feet took her speedily up the stairs and back to her room, never once her eyes looking away from the letter. This was it. She'd been waiting for it, and here it was. She was so nervous. She almost didn't want to open it. What if he didn't feel the same? What if he met someone else? All the insecurities she had pushed to the back of her mind on Christmas night were back in full force, nagging at her. But she had to know. If she didn't open the letter she would never know how he felt.

Her curiosity won in the end, and she sliced the letter open with the letter opener she kept on her vanity. The letter was short, barely one page, tiny scrawling script. It looked no different than any of Jon's letters in the past. It read:

My Dear Sansa,

I read your letter, and I had to write to you right away. I experienced so many things reading your story from Christmas. It was so kind of you to visit my parents' graves in my stead. And I am so heartened to hear that you are keeping Uncle Benjen company. Please look after him while I'm gone. Your story shows me just how brave and bold you are and how brave and bold you are becoming. Your strength is something to be admired.

Most of all, I was surprised but happy to read about a certain fondness you have for me that is growing. I believe the word you used is elated. I think that is a most accurate representation of my feelings as well. I find I think of you always, every day, and it keeps me going when it's hard to keep going. I keep the embroidered rose in my front pocket next to my heart, and it's the best I can do to keep you close. It's safe to say that the feeling is mutual, and as much as you want me to come back, I want to return to you. I will do everything I can to come back to you. I promise. Until then, just look up at the moon, and know that I see the same one as you every night.

Yours,

Jon

She read the letter over and over and over again; embroidery abandoned on the settee in her room. She read the words again and again. The feeling was mutual! She couldn't have asked for a better response. Not flowery or disingenuous, but real and very much Jon. It all sounded so much like him. This was the letter she would hold on to for hope. She would come back to these words again and again. She felt light, she felt powerful, she felt for the first time a glimmer of hope and freedom on the other side of this war. He said he would come back. Surely, he would.

She went about her day humming and with a spring in her step. Everyone noticed. Bran, Meera, Old Nan, even Ned and Catelyn noticed their daughter in improved spirits. The next day, she went to a meeting on women's rights with Shae at the New York Junior League. She sat listening to Mrs. Blatch speaking on the subject with such passion, it moved Sansa into action. Almost immediately afterwards, she asked Mrs. Blatch to tea. Mrs. Blatch was so kind and agreed. She arrived the next afternoon at the Stark house in a heavy black coat and fur collar.

"Mrs. Blatch! So good of you to come!" Sansa replied as she entered the home.

"Please, call me Harriot," she replied with a smile, "Mrs. Blatch is for public affairs. I like a little bit of informality here and there." She had a sweet smile when she wasn't looking so severe and determined. She was shorter than Sansa by at least a few inches, and she bustled about removing her coat as someone who was used to doing a lot of different things very quickly.

"Harriot, of course," Sansa said, "I'm so glad you agreed to come see me. I know you must have many other things to do besides sit with me for tea."

"Nonsense dear," She replied, "I love talking to young women. You have such zeal for life and such a unique perspective." Sansa didn't know what to say. She hadn't heard anyone talk about young women that way in front of her. It seemed Harriot might be an ally and would support her efforts in becoming her own woman.

"You know, women have a lot to offer," Harriot continued as they made their way to the parlor where Meera had laid out a set of cucumber sandwiches, tea, and frosted lemon cookies.

"That is why I chose to write my book. It's important we understand just how much we are capable of."

"You're writing a book?" Sansa asked as she poured herself and her guest a cup of tea.

"Darling, I wrote a book. Though I have been considering writing a second one." The topic was enough to prompt Harriot to delve into her newest endeavor. Harriot only became more and more impressive the more Sansa heard her speak. She was absolutely agog at how much this tiny woman did. She was in her sixties and still doing so much with so much energy. She talked in a frenzy, using her hands to wave ideas to and fro in front of her, sometimes with a cookie or sandwich in her grasp. Sansa was fascinated and delighted. When Harriot spoke, Sansa felt hopeful. All this time since the war started she felt trapped and helpless. Harriot was telling her now that needn't be the case.

"There are women all over Europe mobilizing to help the war effort. Just because of our sex, some think we cannot be of use but that is simply not true."

"I must admit I have felt fairly helpless since the war began,' Sansa said softly, almost embarrassed to admit she felt defeated to this woman who probably didn't even have the word defeat in her vocabulary. Harriot placed a uncharacteristically still hand over Sansa's.

"My dear, we all do. It's inevitable. But I think that every woman can find herself the moment in which she says 'Now what can I do? What special thing have I got that can help the world forward?' And I say Sansa, I have known you for such a short time, but I can already tell from what I've learned and what I've seen that you will accomplish quite a lot once you find your special thing. I dare say you probably have many special things about you that will lead you forward. You seem to me a very intelligent and capable young woman."

Sansa smiled, grateful for Harriot's kind words and confidence. She hoped very much that she was right.

"Thank you, Harriot. You are very kind. Perhaps I should read your book. Could you send me a copy?"

"Of course I can, dear! I'd love to!" Harriot's sweet smile spread to fill her whole face. For Sansa, it was contagious. The next day Sansa found a slim parcel wrapped in paper tied with a ribbon with her name neatly scrawled on the attached notecard. She sat down to read it in it's entirety the next day.

Now here she was, regularly meeting with Shae in parks and at meetings and in their respective homes talking excitedly about the women's suffrage movement, the war effort, and what women were accomplishing around the world. It was so new for Sansa. Of course, she knew women to be capable of things. She knew herself to be capable, and her mother and Arya and Margery, but she just hadn't thought about it much until recently- about how much they were capable of and in so many different areas, too.

She knew that her mother wouldn't approve. Very few ladies in her realm would want to talk to Sansa about these new things she was discovering, but Shae was different. She wanted to talk about things other than parties and society gossip and the proper way to set a table for a thirteen-course meal. She wanted to talk about respect, rights, and the world outside the society columns. There was suffering in the world, and Shae had seen it first-hand. She wasn't going to shy away from any of it. Sansa admired this about Shae, and she found that with her world opening up, she had no desire to stay in her small bubble any longer. She wanted to branch out, try new things, and find her own voice. Shae encouraged her to think about these things and to explore these avenues.

She walked up to the door and knocked to be let in. A smartly but simply dressed woman on her way out nearly bumped into Sansa who had mistaken the open door as an invitation to come in.

"I'm so sorry!" Sansa exclaimed as she nearly toppled into the other woman which with all things considered would have been quite a feat as the woman was much larger than her. She was unusually tall and imposing- a build Sansa would not have traditionally attributed to a woman- but still attractive even if her face seemed to be set in a perpetual state of severity.

"It's quite alright, miss," she replied, "the fault was mine." Sansa noted that her words and tone weren't rude exactly, but she also came across as quite terse, as if she was in a hurry.

"I should have waited for you to exit before I walked in."

"And I should have minded my surroundings," she replied, "good day." With that she brusquely put on a hat to cover her plaited blonde hair and made her way onto the street at a quick pace.

"Miss Stark," Tyrion called from the house. In the commotion she hadn't realized that he was standing in the doorway. Sansa assumed he was seeing the woman of great height out the door for one reason or another.

"Mr. Tyrion," she replied- an endearing nickname she had developed for him over the last couple weeks considering his strong distaste for his last name and his insistence at calling her Miss Stark. Mr. Tyrion became the compromise they had come to in how she should address him.

"I see you met Miss Tarth," he offered, "wonderful woman. Very smart, though a little socially awkward. Most efficient and capable, though."

"Who is she?"

"A dear friend from the frontlines."

"The frontlines!" Sansa exclaimed. She never met a woman solider before.

"I'm sorry. I have a bit of a flair for the dramatic that makes my statements quite inaccurate in times of war where there are actual frontlines. No, she is a doctor at the hospital. She works with the poor when her schedule allows it. Though I suppose in her case, saying she is from the frontlines is not completely inaccurate."

"Do you mean a nurse?"

"No," said Tyrion, "a doctor." Sansa broke out into a smile upon hearing this. She still wasn't used to hearing about women who had traditionally male jobs, and she never tired of hearing of them or for that matter meeting them. They gave her hope for her own capabilities.

"She has started studying the mind. A tricky thing really. She just came back stateside after being a surgeon on the frontlines of the war."

"How was she able to come back?" she asked incredulously. No one Sansa knew had come back yet.

"She served with the Red Cross. Her efforts were not in an official military capacity, and she decided to return saying that her efforts were needed more here at home. Won't you come in? I'm talking your ear off and you are standing there in the cold. Come in!" He ushered her inside as his parlor maid took her coat.

"She sounds like such an interesting woman."

'She is. She is convinced the best things she can do for those here is further her research in psychology. She has only been at it a year, but she is giving Mary Calkins a run for her money. She'll be there yet I'm sure."

"Who?"

"Oh never mind. Just a silly little man with his obscure references I'm afraid. Short answer is she is also a doctor, but of the mind. A brilliant one for that matter. She can see right through you."

"I see," Sansa replied. She'd of course heard of psychology. Freud and Jung were well known to her especially with the learned men in her sphere. Bran, for instance, was fascinated by their writings. However, she didn't know that women were making their mark on the field as well. She had so much to learn.

"Shae is in the parlor. We made sure to include some lemon petit fours since you were coming to celebrate with us."

"You are so thoughtful!"

"You are our favorite guest!" he replied with a smile escorting her into the parlor where Shae sat pouring the tea. She was dressed in a simple grey frock, but somehow she still looked as elegant as she did on New Year's Eve in her sparkling gown.

"Sansa!" Shae greeted warmly as she came to embrace her guest, "we are so glad you could join us!"

"I am so glad to celebrate with you!" Sansa replied, " I don't feel like I can openly discuss my excitement for these moments with the rest of my family so openly. I'm glad I can with you."

"Anytime you want to celebrate anything, I hope you call on us," Tyrion replied as he pulled out her seat for her. Together they all sat in the parlor, eating sweet treats and drinking tea. When Tyrion found it to be the appropriate time, he brought out what looked to be a wine bottle.

"How did you get champagne!?" Sansa asked incredulously. The war torn region of France had struggled to produce wine in the past year. Importing anything from Europe, especially France, had become close to impossible.

"I save things for special occasions."

"This wine is ten years old Tyrion! It's too nice!' Shae chastised him, but she smiled the entire time. Sansa thought she saw the beginnings of tears pricking at the corners of Shae's eyes.

"Nonsense," he replied, "you've worked hard for this Shae, and I am proud of you. We're celebrating properly." With that, Tyrion popped the champagne.

"A toast!" Tyrion said as he raised his glass, "to women."

"To Women!" they cheered.

"You've inspired me these last days, Shae," Sansa said as they sipped on the sparkling wine, "this last year I have felt so lost with all those I love joining the war. I want to make a difference in my own right, and I think I can do that here at home. I'm going to see what I can do to make life better when they return. And not just for a select few, but for all of us."

"I love this idea, Sansa!"

"Well, don't get ahead of it yet," Sansa said, "I'm not sure yet what I want to do."

"Whatever it is, you'll figure it out. You're smart and you're capable."

"That's what Mrs. Blatch told me at tea the other day," Sansa said, "she sent me a copy of her book. It's inspiring to hear what other women have been doing across the world in the war effort. I want to be one of them."

"Perhaps Mrs. Blatch said you were smart and capable because you are," Tyrion quipped with a smile, "I for one am very excited to see where you start to apply all this newfound knowledge you seem to be soaking up. My study is always open to you should you wish it, as well as whatever expertise I can provide."

"Thank you, Mr. Tyrion," Sansa answered with a smile, "I want to learn all I can about the world around me. I hope that maybe as I learn, something will jump out at me and make it clear what it is I can do to make the world better. Perhaps I'll find my special thing."

"Special thing?" he inquired.

"It's something Mrs. Blatch said," Sansa replied.

"She made quite the impact on you, Sansa," Shae observed.

"She did," she agreed, "She really did."

"Well whatever your special thing is, I'm excited to see it blossom." She encouraged. They went on sipping wine and celebrating the win.

When Sansa left Tyrion Lannister's brownstone home, she wandered slowly in the early evening light in no rush to get home. She was considering how she could start learning things. There were books in her father's study on geography and economics. There were plenty of philosophy and political policy books at Tyrion's home. She could go even to her Uncle Benjen's home. Everyone had a library she could take books from. But as for practical knowledge, she needed to get a bit more creative. As she strolled down the lane, she got an idea. Instead of walking home as she planned, she took a left at the corner and ended up in front of Uncle Benjen's three story brownstone. Osha was surprised to see her at the door, but escorted her inside anyways.

"Sansa!" Benjen welcomed her as he came into the rarely used parlor, "what a wonderful surprise!"

He'd barely hugged his niece when she said "Uncle Benjen, I need your help."

"What is it dear child?" he replied, worried about what he might hear. He looked earnestly at her face, and saw she was smiling. Worry gave way to curiosity. Sansa noted the change, but it wasn't important. As long as he didn't get angry, which she highly doubted he would, she could be excited and brave. Uncle Benjen had proven himself an ally since Christmas. She was sure he could help her.

Sansa held her head up high and said, "I want to shadow you at Stark Steel."