you're not my homeland anymore

[dohaeris]

Who: sansa and her crs
What: catchall for non-event logs. mostly she wants to tell some friends her name. also for some prompts that are simply too long for the event post
When: early april, broadly. late april for sibling-based event prompts
Where: her house (or wherever windows into the world of ice and fire can be found)

Content Warnings: canon-typical violence. character warnings in her app. uhhhh spoilers for asoiaf as if her canonpoint wasn't enough


[starters in the comments I just really wanted to use the taylor swift lyrics for this]

Comments

cw ramsay violence, death, mention of asoiaf slavery

[dohaeris]

[sansa gives a small, cynical huff of laughter.]

Lord Bolton is meant to be my father's bannerman. He was one of the traitors that killed my mother and brother. We have the power to deal with him on our own. He shouldn't have enough people to put up much of a fight.

[she turns to adaine, eyebrows raised.]

The war that happened had more than just three fronts, but nobody ever took the Wall. It is a little...[contrived is a good word for it. little do they know.] The Seven Kingdoms can hardly go ten years without a civil war. I suppose someone's trying to tell me it was inevitable, no matter what any of us did.

[this still seems preferable to what did happen. she turns, and the children are breaking their fast in the great hall. it's a glum scene, with bran and jojen whispering together and arya sulkily stabbing some eggs with a fork. rickon seems determined to tear a piece of fried bread into the smallest pieces possible. robb seems to be taking his father's role to heart, and breakfasting elsewhere, perhaps with their mother. her younger self walks in, now almost indistinguishable from her true self, except in dress. meera reed walks with her.

"Where's Jeyne?" asks the dream sansa.

"Who cares," mutters the dream arya.

both sansas' eyebrows knit together. the dream one takes her place at the table.

it's not long after that the pooles come rushing in with her mother. the girls and their mother are crying, and varon looks fit to explode. robb follows after them.

"My daughter is missing," shouts varon poole. "Where is Jeyne?"

the real sansa's eyes widen in horror.]

No!

["He couldn't have gotten in here without us knowing," robb frowns.

"He took Kyra," says arya, giving her eggs one last final stab before setting her fork down to watch the pooles.

"Lady knows her," says the dream sansa. "We should send the wolves."

"I'll go," says bran, leaping from the table. jojen follows him.

the dream sansa draws her hands behind her back, and looks down, frowning. then she looks at the pooles.

"Has Jeyne mentioned anyone to you? She's been so cross with me lately, for not spending time with her," she says. "I thought she was only jealous. I do spend time with her, I just spend time with Arya and Lady Meera too."

"Jeyne's not stupid," shouts varon poole. "She knows better than to talk to any bastard of Bolton!"

both sansas draw a breath.

"Perhaps he told her he was someone else," says the dream sansa, slowly. "A son of one of the forest houses, or a squire, or a merchant on the White Knife. Someone she might like to marry, someday."

the eldest of the remaining poole girl nods tearfully, clinging to her mother.

"She said she met a trader from the White Knife," she says. "She said he had his own boat, and a ship in White Harbor."

"Why would he go to the trouble?" asks robb. it's a thoughtful question, not an incredulous one.

"I don't know," says the dream sansa. "Why has he been murdering women here, and not around the Dreadfort?"

"Because they'd recognize him," says arya.

"Or Lord Bolton's been covering it up," robb sighs. "I can get some men together to search. Meera?"

"Let me have a little breakfast first," she says, a sort of deadpan twist to her words. "Besides, it would better to have two groups of us looking, to cover more ground."

"Bran will find her," mutters arya, poking at her eggs again.

sansa turns and finds herself deep in the wolfswood. robb, meera, and the strange fierce woman are standing around another bloody mass with a dozen or so winterfell men and three of the wolves; lady is among them, with grey and white ribbons around her neck. she whimpers and whines, grey wind and summer try to soothe her. immediately sansa grasps what has happened and steps back, shaking her head. is this what she's meant to see? her friend dying alone and in agony? she doesn't know that the guards in king's landing were any kinder. meera covers the body with a cloth.

she turns again to find herself in her mother's solar. the dream sansa, eyes red from crying, furiously stitches a black dress. robb and meera stand in front of the desk, catelyn sits behind it with a piece of parchment.

"The Hand of the King," she says, a bemused half-smile on her face. "It's Petyr."

the real sansa's eyes widen.]

No...

[it's more breathy and defeated than the last one.

robb's eyebrows knit together very much like sansa's do.

"What Petyr?" he asks.

"Petyr Baelish. He stayed with us at Riverrun," says catelyn. she glances at the letter again, frowning. "He says the king's been preoccupied with the Targaryen girl across the Narrow Sea. It seems she's managed to hatch some dragon eggs."

the dream sansa looks up sharply from her sewing. robb looks skeptical, meera looks astonished.

"What?" asks robb, incredulous.

"He says she's hatched three dragons and caused some disturbance in Qarth, and that she's toppled the cities of Slaver's Bay," says catelyn, eyebrows raised. "King Robert is bracing for some kind of invasion and will not send any troops. And the Small Council remains quite divided on the matter of the Iron Islands, with Cersei believing Euron Greyjoy means to show her favor by sparing Lannisport to go after the Shield Islands. Of course, the Tyrells feel quite differently."

"No one could be that stupid," says robb.

the real sansa scoffs.

"Stone dragon eggs?" asks meera, more thoughtful than anything.

"However, Petyr would be glad to escort what troops he has to Winterfell and on to the Wall," catelyn continues. "My brother's, I imagine, and Lysa's."

"Aye, well, that's something," robb says, and sighs.

the real sansa steps back again, shaking her head.]

He can't come here. He'll ruin everything.

[when she turns around this time, she's in the great hall once again. ser rodrik leads a short, pale man in chains, while one of the guards hauls roose bolton behind them. robb watches grimly from her father's chair with his arms folded, meera stands at his side in riding leathers. catelyn sits in her usual place at his other side, her face a steely mask. sansa is surprised to see her dream self standing behind her in a black, high collared gown.

"Ramsay Snow, you stand accused of several counts of murder, including that of your late wife the Lady Hornwood, and Jeyne of house Poole, daughter of Winterfell," says robb. "How do you plead?"

"I forgot I had a wife," says the short, pale man. "Oh, well, that was the trouble, wasn't it?"

roose bolton says nothing.

"Lady Hornwood was found starved to death, her own fingers in her throat," says robb coldly. "How do you plead?"

"Did she die of starvation, or suffocation?" asks ramsay snow mildly. "You were a bit unclear."

"You set your dogs on young women, raped them, and flayed them alive," says catelyn, in a voice like flint on steel. "How do you plead?"

"Oh, I shot them too. We had a proper hunt," says ramsay.

"You admit your guilt?" asks robb.

ramsay snow makes as if he's going to speak, hesitates, and then leaps on ser rodrik, looping his chains over his neck and yanking them back to choke him.

robb leaps to his feet immediately, and a dozen guards all draw their swords, but at the same time, arya comes in with her dancing teacher, dressed for lessons. sansa hadn't realized her father brought him all the way to winterfell.

robb shouts for her to get back, catelyn stands and cries 'Arya!" and ramsay turns his gleeful, malicious attention on her. syrio forel draws his sword, but it's arya who gets there first. her little sword pierces ramsay snow's wool tunic and drives straight through his heart. his grip slackens and ser rodrik stumbles out from under it, gasping. arya steps back and withdraws her sword, a look of fright on her face.

"I'm sorry," she says, glancing between her bloodied sword and her mother.

"Don't be," mutters the dream sansa.

ramsay falls to his knees and bleeds. catelyn rushes forward and wraps her arms around arya, who begins to cry. her little sword clatters to the ground.

"You're all right, sweet one," says catelyn.

the guards advance on ramsay. he looks genuinely frightened, and then he dies. robb turns his attention towards roose.

"Lord Bolton," he says.

roose bolton stares distantly and placidly at nothing.

"Domeric wanted to meet him. He wanted to know his brother. They spent the night laughing and feasting. The next day Domeric was dead," says roose flatly. sansa recalls that the lost bolton heir's name was domeric. "I did what I could."

"You taught him to flay," says robb. and then, to ser rodrik. "I'll need a greatsword."

when sansa turns again she sees her dream self enter the great hall with rickon. she seems surprised and concerned to find it empty of starks and reeds.

"Where is everyone?" the dream sansa asks a passing serving girl, and urges rickon on towards the table.

"I wouldn't know, milady," the girl answers before scurrying on.

but the dream sansa doesn't make it more than halfway across the room before the doors are flung open with surprising force, with arya racing forward ahead of her mother, meera, and robb. she clutches a piece of parchment in one hand.

"Bran's run off with Jojen!" arya cries. "Their stupid wolf dream mission beyond the Wall!"

"What?" asks the dream sansa sharply.

"Jojen's ill," says meera shakily. "He needs me to hunt for him, he won't survive."

"Bran can hunt," says robb, reaching for her. "They'll be all right."

"Robb Stark! You will search for your brother," snaps catelyn.

"I never said I wouldn't, mother," says robb.

"Summer is with them," offers rickon. "We'd know if they died."

"What?" asks catelyn, her voice strained with emotion and confusion.

the stark children all look at one another.

"He's right," says robb slowly.

meera's posture changes, becomes something conciliatory.

"The children are wargs," she says gently. "They can...enter the minds of the direwolves. And the direwolves share a connection with one another. They--communicate, in a way. Even when they aren't close."

"I don't understand," says catelyn faintly.

"It's old northern magic," says meera, placing careful hands at catelyn's arm and back. "Why don't you sit down, and we can tell you about it?"

warg, thinks the real sansa, and listens.]

[adaine]

[Adaine suspects that none of this could really end happily, even if Petyr Baelish doesn't arrive. She puts a reassuring hand on Sansa's shoulder when they mentioned Jeyne Poole is missing.]

Just... remember, it's an illusion, Sansa. Like a dream. [They're not in the Nightmare King's realm now, the dreams aren't real. Not yet. She grimaces slightly, she knows it's not easy all the same.

Even now she wants to reach through the illusion and kill Ramsay Snow and Petyr Baelish both.

Her eyes, however, dart open wide with surprise when they mention the warging power and Adaine gives Sansa a puzzled expression.] Did you know about that?

[dohaeris]

[meera describes powers very like sansa's natural paleblood abilities. sansa nods tightly. perhaps she has become to used to true dreams. she didn't mean to cry out. it just happened, like when she would catch herself speaking out against joffrey. but she brightens at adaine's question.]

Oh! I wanted to tell you, I saw Bran in a bubble-window, and Arya. They got away! They're hiding too, and Rickon, if the bubble-windows are true. And--if I come from the same...bubble. He was in a cave beyond the Wall with the Children of the Forest! I think that's where he must be running off to, here. He told me my magic wasn't only my paleblood. [she smiles fondly.] He said he had the wolf dreams first, and he's learning to be a greenseer. That was the strange part, that he was learning from an old greenseer, some prince from a hundred years ago. I would never have dreamed that. And Arya's in Braavos, which looked much better than King's Landing. She's learning to be an assassin, a very good one. Perhaps Littlefinger will hire her by mistake and she can kill him.

[she says this lightly, and with humor. it's clear she thinks this outcome is too good to be true. her smile turns wistful.]

She was dressed as a fishwife, selling oysters for cover, but she seemed much more comfortable on the docks than she ever was as a lady, even a lady with a sword.

[she wonders if it were not only the sewing and the cumbersome gowns, or even the prospect of marrying some highborn idiot that arya misliked, but something deeper--perhaps the very thing that called sansa to her station. her mouth twists.]

And she kept her clothes much nicer, too.

[to be fair, they were nicer than any fishwife ever had in king's landing. sansa has been trying to copy the design of the little jacket onto a dress for herself.]