Chapter Text
It was snowing in Winterfell.
A beautiful, timeless scene.
While she had endured many a snow in her time, this one was much unlike any she had seen before. It was the first real snow of winter. Sansa was perhaps a daughter of winter, but she was born during the long summer, only knowing the faintest of snows. This was a blizzard unlike any other, the winds were moaning in the night, tree branches angrily shoving against castle walls. Peeking from the window, there was white as far as the eye could see. It had to be several feet, most definitely taller than Robb, perhaps even taller than father. The sounds of the Stark dire wolves howling through the turbulent weather is what awakens her, though she’s so entranced by the storm that she can’t find an ounce of resentment towards their pets for awakening her from such a deep slumber.
“Sansa, are you awake?” A voice asks through the dark. Turning around, she sees that the wolves have awoken not just her, but her siblings as well. All four of them, as well as her bastard brother, are in her doorway, mirroring that of their own pets. Two wolf packs in their entirety.
There’s a grin on her face, the prospect of all of them being together seems too good to be true. Sansa’s unsure why she has this feeling, after all, this is her family, she sees them day in and day out. But within her gut, she knew she didn’t. She just knew it. As she begins to approach them, they all begin vanishing in a whirlwind of smoke, swirling around her as if this was some twisted joke from the Gods. Sansa panics, a deep unsettling feeling in her stomach, she goes to scream but nothing comes out.
She wakes up.
Jolting upright in her bed, it takes her several moments to catch her breath. Her chest rises and falls, eyes scanning the room to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. This was her room, but it wasn’t her room. King’s Landing was not her home, despite how badly she had to pretend it was. Day in and day out she feigned loyalties, lied through her teeth, pretended to disown her family and write them off as nothing but traitors. She worried the longer this went on, that she’d eventually come to regard the lonely halls of King’s Landing as home, and the sharp claws of the Lannisters as family. This thought frightened her to her core.
Though these thoughts are soon disregarded as the sounds of swords drawing and yelling stir her. Panic swells throughout her body, hands grasping at her sheets as a sort of comfort, though she tries to calm her breathing and still her heart, seeing as the loud and furious thudding of the organ in her chest prevents her from hearing the ongoings outside her chamber.
It seems to end before it begins, there’s a quick groan, a sound of weaponry, then a large crash to the floor. Was this an assassination attempt? Revenge on her brother’s decree of independence? The guard’s outside her door seemed to have stood no match against her intruder, and it is now a thudding against her locked door that sets the fear stricken Sansa to finally react. Rushing out of bed, she frantically searches for something - anything, to use against this invader.
There’s a whole bunch of nothing, and she’s throwing things around, desperately looking for an object to utilize to provide her with a fighting chance. Then her eyes stumbled across the fireplace, yes - that would do, the fire iron sat aside the crackling fire. Sansa rushes to it, grabbing it with shaky hands and holding it above her head in case she must strike.
An uneven breath is released, arms above her head in a stance that would have had her mercilessly mocked by her siblings. That’s when it happens, the door is kicked in and a group of people in disguise break into her room. It was now or never to act, though Sansa of all people knew her physical actions would not nearly amount to as much as she could attempt with her words, so she dared to speak.
“I wouldn’t do this, if I were you.” She begins with a warning, eyes piercing through her enemies with all the ferocity she could muster. “I am Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, the daughter of Lord Eddard and the sister of Robb Stark, the King in the North.” It is the first time in three years she has dared uttered such words, they are like lead on her tongue, though once they are spoken out into the room, the strength of these words only encourages her to continue. “If you harm me, I assure you the Northern Armies will find you, and my brother, the young wolf, will seek revenge.” She wasn’t sure if this was the case, but fear had her talking a game bigger than she ever had before.
That’s when Sansa hears it - laughter. An obnoxious laughter that sounded oh so familiar, yet she couldn’t put a finger on it. Still, despite the apparent amusement, she keeps her stance, ready to sharpen her tongue like a knife once more. But then the laughter continues even more, one of the figures removing their helmet.
Theon Greyjoy.
Of course.
That laughter was the very same that haunted her childhood, that followed in Robb’s shadows and mocked her. Looking at him, Sansa’s expression grows from anger to confusion, though things soon make sense once the other helmets are revealed. Dacey Mormont, the SmallJon, and Robb.
Robb.
He had come for her - finally, fulfilling long dreams that had been hopelessly crushed time and time again. Each new day in King’s Landing gave her disappointment into the idea that her King brother would rush and rescue her, much like in the games they played as children. Sansa lowers her arms, fire iron dropping to the floor in shock. It felt as if she was looking at a ghost. Her brother was still the same, curly auburn hair and a crooked grin as he looked at her, yet he was a man grown now, a king - truly, in every sense of the word. He was so effortlessly everything Joffrey could not be.
Though she doesn’t believe it. This couldn’t be happening, she couldn’t have her chance at escape. It had to be some illusion, a dream, anything but reality. Sansa watches as Robb rolls his eyes at Theon for laughing, stepping forward to get a better look at her. “Look at you,” he mutters, “How you’ve grown..” his words trail off in disbelief, “no longer that little girl begging me to play knights and princesses with you.” There’s a chuckle behind his words, but Sansa is still in far too much shock to be able to match his tone.
There’s a sound of a throat clearing, Sansa looking to the source, Dacey Mormont. “Not to interrupt this touching reunion and all, but we’ve got about five minutes before the Lannister men notice and this whole thing would have been for nothing.”
There’s a sudden shift in the mood, Robb moving to her, urging her along. While there’s still a part of her that questions the reality of this situation, she realizes she’s far better off with this risk than anything that could happen to her here. Theon hands her a robe, then draws his own weapon, moving behind Robb and Sansa as Dacey and the SmallJon take the front, sneaking through dark and empty corridors, stepping over the occasional body deposited as a result of the northern break in.
“How is this possible? How are you even here right now?” Sansa finally asks, voice a whisper to avoid risk of waking anyone.
“We’ll be able to discuss all of this soon. But now we must continue, you’ll understand all of this soon enough.” Her brother answers, tone urgent, words quick and impactful, much like his feet upon the tiled floors beneath them.
So silent she remains, following closely, meeting their speed. It seemed as if a perfectly drawn out map was guiding them, one studied to memorization, seeing as no parchment led them through the many passages. There were some halls she recognized, though the further they went within the castle, the sooner she realized these were paths that were not known to the average person. Sansa wondered if even Cersei had knowledge of such deep and low leveled entrances to and from the Red Keep.
They continued on, at least for another twenty or so minutes, though time began to blend and she couldn’t even tell how long it was between each passing minute anymore. But her feet were growing tired and her breath uneven as she attempted to remain in pace with people who were far more used to running for such long distances. Soon enough, however, she gets her break. Within the lower level, there’s a door that exposes a few more northern men, this time with several horses. While horseback riding isn’t the most comfortable, it certainly is an improvement from running.
The SmallJon offers her his hand, Sansa climbing atop the horse’s back. It had been so long since she rode, since she had any sort of freedom. It is now that she feels herself finally get hopeful, finally accept that this was real and there were no hidden Lannister tricks anywhere to be found. As her steed kicks off into a gallop to follow along the others, a breath of relief is exhaled.
King’s Landing disappeared into the foreground, and with it so did the Sansa Stark of old. The fake niceties to her own captors, the false loyalties, feigned ignorance. No longer did she have to pretend. That Sansa Stark was gone forever, now riding home was the authentic version of herself that she could finally be.