Author's Notes: And now, for something completely different!

I started this story over two years ago but didn't post it, almost forgetting all about it…but finally stumbled into it on my hard drive again. I aim to pick up from where I stopped writing and hope that all my initial plans for this story – to be more than just a simple love story or a limited character study – come to the intended fruition. What I really want to write is a plot-driven story about how things could have turned better… I guess we'll see how it goes!

The story will include many characters and many POVs, although Sansa is the main protagonist at least in the beginning. More tags related to characters and themes will be added as the story progresses.

Sansa

The sounds of someone walking about, scraping noises of the furniture being moved, clink and clatter of something being set on the table, alerted Sansa from her deep slumber.

"Good morning, my lady. I trust your sleep was peaceful?"

She startled awake with a gasp, not only because of the presence of a stranger in the room, in her room, but also because of the odd way that stranger spoke. Formally, deferentially, with an accent that was not from Kings Landing nor from any other region of Westeros Sansa knew of.

Her heart drummed a few extra beats as her eyelids fluttered open – and then another realisation hit her. She was – as a matter of fact – not in her room. Not in her bedroom in her family's comfortable house in White Harbour, nor in her modest hotel room on the foothills of Visenya's Hill in King's Landing. She was…

Gods!

Horrified after latching on the last recollection of her still foggy mind Sansa shot up, expecting to see a disapproving frown of a museum guard directed at her. Instead, all she saw was a freckled face of a young girl dressed in a period costume, pouring water from a jug to a basin resting on a side table against the wall. At her sudden movement, the girl turned to her and smiled, a hesitant smile but one that looked genuine nonetheless.

Sansa looked at the girl uncomprehending, then glanced down after sensing that something else was not quite right. And indeed, instead of a t-shirt and the jeans she distinctively remembered putting on that morning, what she had on now was some kind of a long white nightgown made of the softest fabric she had ever seen.

Fuck!

Sansa didn't swear often, but there were times when the situation called for it. And this seemed to be one of those times.

What on earth is going on?

The Previous Day

Hanging out in stuffy museums and crumbling historical buildings might not be the idea of fun for most young women visiting the capital for the first time on their own, but Sansa Tully was not like most young women.

She had loved history from the early age and had made it her matter to visit any noteworthy historic sites on her – so far few and far between – travels. On her first overseas trip, she had been to Meereen and admired its Great Pyramid with statues of bronze harpies and wandered around narrow crowded lanes trying to visualise how it might have been to live in that ancient culture spanning back thousands and thousands of years. Closer to home in White Harbour she had made many visits to the ancient fortress of Wolf's Den near the sea and to the old Manderly Castle up the hill. When she had been just a child she had used to imagine that she was a princess of old, ruling over the poetically named Merman's Court.

Hence it was no wonder that her first port of call after arriving at King's Landing had been its many historic sites – and the best was still ahead of her; the famous Red Keep.

Checking one last time that she had everything she needed in her bag – wallet, a little purse with a few items of makeup, a hairbrush, sunglasses, a guidebook – Sansa pushed her mobile phone into the front pocket of her jeans, plugged earplugs into her ears and pressed the play button. The ethereal sounds of one of her favourite group, 'Silent Sisters', started streaming through, the tunes influenced by medieval music forming a perfect backdrop for her upcoming adventure as she stepped into the corridor and locked her modest room behind her.

The place she stayed was cheap but clean, a small hostel at the lower slopes of Visenya's Hill in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the city's historical centre. Maybe she could have afforded to stay in a better hotel with ensuite amenities and air-conditioning instead of one with a shared bathroom along the corridor and lazy ceiling fans, but she preferred to spend her money on attractions and good food over a place where she planned to spend only a few hours in a day in any case. Besides, the location was fantastic; just by stepping outside she was swept by the sights and curiosities of the heritage-protected part of the old city.

The tour had already assembled in front of the main gate by the time she reached it, breathless from the climb up the hill.

"I am sorry I am late!" she called to the small group of people gathered around a young woman carrying a red flag with an emblem of the Red Keep in it.

"Not at all, I only just got here myself." The guide smiled at her pleasantly and then proceeded to introduce herself to the whole group as Layla, a native King's Landing born and bred, a tour guide with a passion to her city's past, and one of three proprietors of the "Red Keep Confidential" tour company.

The other participants presented themselves one after another; a young couple from Braavos on their honeymoon, an elderly lady from Wintertown visiting her children in the capital, a serious looking young man from Dorne who had just moved to the city for work, a young girl dressed in black leather with a heavy make-up and sullen demeanour, omitting to share where she was from and what she was doing in King's Landing - and Sansa, a girl from White Harbour in the city just to experience a bit of freedom before starting her studies in the medical academy back home. The group was small but that was why Sansa had chosen that particular company; to have individual interactions with a knowledgeable guide and her fellow tour members. Anyone paying the higher than the average price of the tour must have real interest towards the topic, and Sansa liked chatting with people who shared her fascination with times past.

After a few cursory words about do's & don'ts during the tour they started it by walking through the impressive entrance gate into the cobbled front courtyard. Sansa's head swivelled side by side when she took in the sights around her; the tall guard towers, the massive stone fortress, the statues, the fountains, the later added more elegant houses that stood out from their mostly medieval surroundings like flimsily dressed exotic dancers among the sturdy fully armoured warriors. The property was owned by the nation and any changes to its appearance were strictly controlled, but by the virtue of the latest additions having been built over two hundred years ago, they were nonetheless there to stay.

"And here you can see the remains of the Tower of the Hand, burned down in the year 300 by the Mad Queen Cersei, and the new tower built on top of its foundations," the guide prattled on effortlessly, probably replicating the same litany of words she had been repeating hundreds of times already. Yet she had a way to make it new and interesting and she was responsive to all questions, to which she answered with a wealth of knowledge – once again confirming Sansa that her choice had been a correct one.

"Why was she called 'mad queen'?" queried the Dornish man, Mateo.

"Because she was a woman who dared to defy patriarchy at the time when women were expected to be silent and subservient," the girl in black called Melarie responded before Layla had a chance to put a word in.

"Well, maybe there was a bit of that," the guide said diplomatically," but mainly it was because she showed certain signs of mental instability towards the end of her family's brief reign. Burning this tower was one thing, but she also did some regrettable political decisions on behalf of her underage son King Tommen, which came back to haunt her most profoundly."

"Like what?" Mateo cocked his head.

"She armed the Faith Militant, which became one of the powers to topple her dynasty off the throne, and she also alienated all the powerful families of the land at the time so that when the second Targaryen conquest took place, nobody stood beside the Lannisters and the throne was easily picked by Daenerys the First."

"That doesn't make her mental, just a poor political strategist," interjected the old man, Brynnan.

"True. But she was also known to have an incestuous relationship with her own twin brother who fathered all her three children, and she most likely orchestrated the death of her husband King Robert Baratheon – and she was sometimes described as screeching and shouting and spewing profanities at those who displeased her. If she was not mad to start with, she might have been so towards the end of her life – but even if she wasn't, you know how these historical nicknames tend to stick!" Layla laughed and continued on.

And so the day went on and they visited building after another, walked the ramparts, oohed and aahed at the magnificence of the Maegor's Holdfast and heard a story after a story about the long and often cruel past of the keep.

Sansa loved every moment of it.

She knew much of it already, being a history buff, but Layla was able to add interesting little anecdotes and titbits into her rendition of history that made all those people from the past to seem more real, more like ordinary human beings with their faults and virtues, hopes and dreams. Enigmatic Aegon the Conqueror, who built the Red Keep with his sister-queens to whom he apparently stayed faithful throughout his life. Maegor the Cruel, who ended his own life on the very throne he had sat on while ruling the realm. Mad King Aerys, who took his joy from burning his enemies alive.

All those men…Sansa couldn't help thinking about the stories of the women in their life and she had a few whispered discussion about them with Melarie, an ardent feminist, whose views Sansa mostly shared – but would not perhaps have expressed quite so vehemently. The group got into a few heated arguments about the pros and cons of having conquerors from another continent ruling over Westeros, but nothing too serious. After all, since the second conquest, Targaryen dynasty had increasingly married into local noble families and in time become more Westerosi than Westerosi themselves. Even after the formation of the republic almost hundred years ago the remaining ex-royal family was much loved by the people.

Some rooms of the Maegor's Holdfast held permanent exhibitions of many kinds; dresses, porcelain, treasured old books, paintings, wall hangings and of course the famed dragon skulls, residing inside the sealed partitions of the room. Shivers went down Sansa's spine when she saw the size of some of them, especially that of the famous Drogon the Black Death. She was sad that the creatures had become extinct, but couldn't help wondering how they could have been managed in modern days, had any survived. Zoos, nature parks – or in the wild? Shrugging the uneasy image of coming face to face with a fire-breathing dragon on one of her family's camping trips, Sansa moved on.

The next room held an interactive display of all the rulers who had resided on the Iron Throne since its forging. The group spent quite a bit of time there, its members poring through the individual displays and debating about who was the worthiest ruler; Aegon the Conqueror himself, Daenerys Stormborn, Jon the Peacebringer or maybe even Brandon III, the last of his family to sit in the throne before the republic was formed with the co-operation and acquiescence by that wise, gentle man.

Still remembering the discussion about Queen Cersei Sansa focused on what was being said about the brief days or Baratheon dynasty and its demise.

Robert Baratheon, b. 262, d. 298, reign 283-298. Crowned as the King of Seven Kingdoms after winning the rebellion which was named after him (Link:Robert's Rebellion), taking the Iron Throne from Aerys II Targaryen, his first cousin once removed. In his youth future King Robert…

Sansa knew about King Robert, his brief reign being included in most histories, so she skipped him and proceeded to what was said about his family. The entry about Queen Cersei confirmed what Layla had already told, and soon she moved on to their children.

Pressing the next button brought forward a painting of a youth with blond curly hair - handsome, some might say, with bright green eyes and full lips. Because he had been just a small blip in the annals of history, many books left his brief reign out altogether, or even if they mentioned it, it was usually not with much detail. Hence this image was the first Sansa had seen of him and she studied it for a long time. Even from the slightly stifled posture of the official court portrait, something disturbing radiated through; a slight sneer, a haughty gaze – and as Sansa stared at it a strange sensation took over her; her pulse started to race and her skin crawled. Suddenly it was as she was looking at a picture of someone she knew, and knew to be evil – not in an impersonal way like seeing a picture of a mass murderer in the national news, but something much more personal.

Sansa had had a happy childhood and upbringing and had really never known anyone who might have purposefully wanted to harm her or her beloved ones, so she shouldn't really know what a feeling like that could be. But staring at those fine features, she suddenly knew.

Disturbed, she lowered her eyes to read the entry.

Joffrey Baratheon, b. 286, d. 300, reign 298-300. Thought to be the son of King Robert Baratheon, Joffrey inherited the throne after his death. However, the doubts about his paternity soon led to a civil war (Link: War of the Five Kings), during which many great houses of Westeros were brought down and made extinct (Link: Extinct noble Houses of Westeros). Later his uncle, Queen Cersei's twin brother Jaime Lannister, was proven to be his and his siblings' real father. King Joffrey's rule was short and uneasy despite his successful defence of his position from the other claimants of the throne, largely due to his unpredictable and vindictive nature. He was married to Lady Margaery from the powerful Tyrell family but poisoned during his wedding feast by people unknown, his assassination likely being related to the dynastic battle. King Joffrey left no heirs.

Somehow Sansa was glad that he had only ruled for a short time. It was ungracious to be glad of someone's death, but glancing at the image again and reliving the sensation of pure evil staring back at her Sansa didn't feel too bad about her unkind thoughts.

She read the entries of the other siblings, King Tommen who likewise ruled only a short time, and Princess Myrcella. Sansa had no reaction when gazing at their images; both blond and good-looking even in their old age, after being made just ordinary citizens after the second conquest. Then she hopped into the section about extinct noble houses – eager to see what was written about House Stark.

Sansa had always known that her family roots went back a long way, although they were by no means noble or well-off. Her maternal uncle was an amateur genealogist who loved nothing better than to dig out stories and histories of his family's background. He had even written a self-published book about the House Stark and its demise, naturally including in it his findings showing that his own family was directly linked to the famous kings in the North.

Sansa hadn't really cared too much about any of that – until her visit to Winterfell, the ancestral home of Starks.

She had been only fourteen then, on a summer vacation with her parents in the northern parts of Westeros. She had been left to walk through the National Trust maintained homestead at her own pace and she had taken her time going through the rooms, admiring the warm stone walls and the sturdy masonry, listening to the pre-recorded audio guide pointing out various highlights of the building and its estates. It was during that visit that her profound love for all things history had truly been evoked.

It had not been an ordinary sightseeing. Seeing the ancient statues in the crypts she had had an odd sense déjà vu; as if she would have been in that place before. The sad face of a young girl – Lyanna Stark, the sign said – wrangled her heart in a way no other statue had ever done. Walking undisturbed across the buildings and yards on that quiet day she had had an eerie feeling that she actually knew where she was going. After deciding that she wanted to see the kitchens she just walked on and unexplainably found herself taking the direct route, even without stopping to read the directions. Instinctively she had known where the old Godswood was, as well as the hot springs near it.

Not everything during that visit had been pleasant; once Sansa had found herself in an old lichyard where the ground was scattered with faded stones filled with inscriptions. Her steps had halted in front of one of the smallest stone tablet with the least amount of text. 'Here lies Lady' it said simply, and reading the text sadness such as she had never known had taken over her. A tight hold across her chest was suffocating and a tingling sensation behind her eyelids warned Sansa that she was about to burst into tears. And for what? She had no idea who the "Lady" was, a woman so forgotten that not even her name had been engraved to her stone, only her title.

And then there had been the incident in one of the rooms. It had been a room no different from others, just a small chamber in the wing where the family rooms had been located. She had entered it out of curiosity after seeing a glimpse of an intricate wall hanging in it and immediately a sense of belonging had washed over her. She had felt comfortable, she had felt at home, as odd it sounded. She must have reacted somehow because one of the volunteer guides had peeked in and seeing her standing in the middle of the room with an expression of awe in her face, had chuckled, "You like it, eh?"

"What?" Sansa had been confused.

"The tapestry. It is quite exquisite." The woman had entered and explained about the needlework involved in creating such work. Sansa had admired the fine stitches – but they too had appeared oddly familiar. She could do some rudimentary knitting and crocheting and could fix tears in her own clothes if needed, but the delicacy shown in those fine patterns was definitively beyond her skills, which made the sensation of acquaintance with such skilled work even more peculiar.

To round it all off, the woman had told her that the room had belonged to the girl whose handiwork the tapestry was – a girl with a same name as her. Sansa Stark, she had been, the eldest daughter of the last of Starks before the house's demise. When Sansa had asked what had happened to her, the woman had shook her head sadly, telling that she didn't know anything more than that she and all her siblings had died or disappeared during the War of Five Kings and that had been the end of once powerful family.

After they had returned back home her Uncle Tobin had been pleasantly surprised by Sansa's newfound interest to genealogy and had patiently answered all her questions following her detailed study of his book. From it she had learned about the reasons for the downfall of once mighty family, including the accusations of treason used to justify the beheading of Lord Eddard Stark by King Joffrey and what followed after. And yes, her uncle had nodded, there had been a girl named Sansa Stark. No, she hadn't been just any daughter of a noble house, but had been betrothed to a real prince who had later become King Joffrey himself. However, she had unfortunately been spurned before the marriage and wed to another grand family instead. Yes, she had disappeared under mysterious circumstances in a scandalous affair later known as Purple Wedding where the said king had been poisoned in his own wedding. However she had surfaced again years later in the eastern part of the kingdom, in the Vale.

As a matter of fact, as her uncle proudly told Sansa, it had been her namesake's children from her second marriage to a man from a lower noble house who provided the link of their family to the Starks. A son carrying the name of Hardyng but the blood of Starks had in due course married and begotten sons and daughters of his own, who then had married and procreated in turn. Never had any of the family members gained significant positions in the society, the noble house of Hardyng falling down in the aftermath of the second Targaryen conquest. Nonetheless, their descendants had survived and spread all over Westeros, serving as clerks and shopkeepers, craftsmen and headmasters, soldiers and artists. Apparently also Sansa's father's side of the family, the Tully's, had links with the Starks, one of their ancestors having been married to the last Stark. The family inheritance of auburn hair had survived all through the centuries and as Uncle Tobin teased Sansa, her own appearance and family roots probably made her most like the Sansa Stark of the past, she having been described in some old texts as 'a highborn maid with a fair face and auburn hair'.

Sansa had laughed with her uncle but afterwards, she had studied her image from a mirror for a long time wondering if there was anything of long gone Sansa Stark in her. 'A fair face' – well, she didn't want to sound vain but she had high cheekbones, vivid blue eyes and thick auburn hair, and she knew many thought her pretty. She had also always been tall for her age and some of her friends had encouraged her to explore modelling as a career, but Sansa had never wanted to enter the industry based on as false pretences as fashion.

After that Sansa had always felt an odd sympathy for her ancestors, and Sansa Stark especially. When her uncle had told her that she had disappeared from the written records soon after the birth of her son, likely meaning that she had died young, she had even shed some tears for her relative from the past.

And many a night afterwards she dreamt of Winterfell; of the lichyard, of the crypt and of the cosy chamber with the beautiful wall hanging. In some of those dreams she dreamt of Sansa Stark – and on some nights, she dreamt of being Sansa Stark.