Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Its been done before but I wanted to try it. Hopefully it will be different. Sansa dies wakes up with all of her horrible memories. She doesn't know if she's grateful or angry with the gods. The Stark family gets another shot at life. How will things change?

Sansa stood quietly at the gates of her home as the Northern winds howled around her. She watched soberly as the last wagons retreated over the hills towards the South. When word came that the alliance had failed she ordered all those who wanted to flee to do so. She opened Winterfell's food rations providing families with food for at least a month. Furs and old clothes were also relinquished to those traveling South. She dismissed all those in service of House Stark but a few of them refused. A true honor for her that they thought she was worthy to stand by. The Queen of Winter would spend the remainder of her days in Winterfell. She was tired of merely surviving as she had done since her father's head rolled down the Baelor steps.

She took her final walk through the now emptied castle, visiting the family crypt one last time. She took in the old statue of her father, and mother. Her oldest and youngest brothers Robb and Rickon to the freshly made ones. Her brother Bran died after green dreaming in a fight against the Night King. Ayra who refused to stand on the sideline finally got her chance to live her dream. It was said she fought as if possessed by the warrior queen Nymeria herself, truly worthy of songs and tribute. Yet even the best can still fall.

It was a severely injured Brienne who brought her remains back home before succumbing to her own wounds shortly afterwards. A true testament to the oath she swore to their mother. The Lady Knight also relinquished Oathkeeper back to a blood member of the Stark family. She now carried it with her at all-times. She had hoped Jon would take up the Stark ancestral seat along with the sword that was one-half of Ice. But alas fate would continue to deal an ill hand.

Her newly discovered cousin Jon, was the son who just wanted to be accepted as a Stark. A Stark without the stigma of bastard hovering over him. A man who tired of war, who fell to the treachery of his Dragon Queen aunt. The North and South alliance were winning and it was due to Jon's leadership and suddenly Daenerys felt her claim to the Iron Throne become weak in the glory of Rhaegar's son. Madness born from greed and jealousy claimed her. She started taking unnecessary risks that gave the wights slight edges in battles.

Her jealousy would cause them everything including her own life; alongside Jon. Without the Targaryen blood to control the beastly dragons they grew wild and abandoned the unified army to their fate. Many soldiers started surrendering to their own fears and fled. The Kingslayer took command as he strove for one last chance at honor. He lead the last of the men on a fool's errand into battle.

There was no statue for her among her family. There was no one to make one, so she hoped her doll would suffice. It was the last gift given to her by her father. It had once been beautiful and unappreciated. Now chipped, sullied, and her most prized possession. She placed it next to Arya's statue knowing her sister would have had a fit seeing a frilly doll infringing on her fierce looking statue. One last poke at her little sister.

She took a moment to still herself knowing it was almost time.

"Wait for me," she whispered. "I'll be there soon."

They were coming. She could feel the tremors in the ground of the Wight army approaching. With a teary sad smile she left locking the crypt behind her.

She hurried to her final destination the Weirwood tree. There was something invigorating about choosing the place you would die. This place held many beautiful memories. It was a place of solitude for her father and the place where the last of his children gathered before Arya and Jon left for the Wall. Now it would be in this place where an 8,000 year old Dynasty would end. The last of the Stark blood would cease to flow, in a place loved by her family.

She had thought to say a prayer but there was nothing left to pray for. She had made her peace.

The wind picked up and her hair blew like banners caught in the wind. The air grew colder and thinner. They were here, and it didn't take walkers long to find the remaining members of her house. She didn't turn around as an amber light and clouds of thick smoke lit up the sky behind her. The fast crackling sound of fire was consuming Winterfell and hopefully some of the Wights.

Finally they had found her. She could hear the crunch of snow under their footsteps. She could see the silhouette of the creature that loomed over her.

She made no move as spindly icy fingers grasped and caressed her throat. She felt slightly sick as it continued to caress her, almost lovingly as a lover would. Those icy fingers gripped her chin forcing her to look into the face of her death. And who should be the giver of her death was the Night King himself. His sapphire blue nearly matched the ice of her own eyes.

She didn't know how long she gazed at him. But it wasn't until she saw his blood soaked blade of ice sticking from her torso did her mind began to catch up with her. She grew cold and it had nothing to do with the weather or the wights presence. Removing his sword she fell to her knees, instinctively holding her wound as blood seeped through her finger soaking the front of her gown. Everything felt surreal moving at a slower pace than usual. She began to taste the copper filling her mouth until it spilled down her chin. She realized she was choking on her own blood as her lungs fought for air. She felt the need to lay down. So she did in front of the Weirwood, where her blood splattered on its roots and the snow surround it. Her wheezing continued as her body clawed for life. Finally her vision dulled as she saw flames climb high into the night.

'Finally,'she thought. The dysphoria of a life of woe that befell her and her family was over as she took her final breath.

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