1. Many words are misspelt and the conjucation and punctuation is everywhere - i will rectify this as i keep typing along. Please bear with me. I will also be modifying my writing and my prose/content but never the plot.

2. I hate what D & D did to the Game of Thrones and in my own small way want to change the story

CHAPTER ONE :

Forty Two Years Later

As she awoke , Her Grace Sansa Starks Joints and Limbs felt every day of her Sixty Four Years, Forty Two of them as the Queen in the North, ruling an Area thrice the size of the rest of the realm if one included the New Western Territories. Sansa was old. Even dressing up and holding court took up every last ounce of her energy and there were times when she genuinely hated the stroke of fate that had made her Queen in the North, the First Stark to hold such a position for nearly three hundred years , and a feat no Stark male had been able to achieve. It had taken Sansa a few years of rule however to realize that perhaps she was not meant to carry out such a responsibility as she now bore and that perhaps she would have been much better off marrying and raising children just like her Mother had done and eventually dying in peace surrounded by her dear and loved ones. Perhaps she could have had all such things if only she had not been violated by Nature and by Man and Beast alike from the age of Fifteen.

Sansa had chosen to be Queen in the North - realizing now that her decision had been based entirely because of the inner torment and humiliation she had suffered at having landed into trouble again and again and at needing to be rescued every single time. She had wanted some respite from her feeling of constant failure throughout her childish life - right from the act of stupidity when she had confided her fathers most secret plans to Cersei Lannister, resulting in his execution and a war that would claim two more of her brothers and her mother, from her being turned into a plaything for the insane Joffrey through machinisations of Cersei, Tywin and Littlefinger, to her nightmares with Ramsay Bolton and finally to her bitter lack of leadership during the night of the living dead, when she had crouched in the crypts as fighting men fell all around her, when a child of Thirteen had taken on a Giant Wight and died killing it. Yes Sansa had been truly ashamed and her failure had tormented her regularly. It was this that lead to her taking the opportunity to become Queen - a title to which she had no rights to - either by blood or by conquest.

AND here she was - the Queen in the North - Forty two years after taking the chance fate had provided to her , by ousting the rightful ruler of the North - her cousin Jon Snow whom she had loved and hated equally. Loved because he was a good man, had loved her, had saved her life twice and protected her whenever he could and Hated because of the way he had earned the love and respect of his people, had earned the title of the King in the North, had earned the admiration of even the worst of the Dothraki and Unsullied - admiration enough that they had spared his life when they could have still insisted on his head for killing their queen. The people of the North had accepted her as their Queen but Sansa knew it was not the same.

Sansa knew that she was different from Jon. Her people obeyed her and respected her but they did not worship her or love her the way they had done Jon. She was a good leader in the summer peacetime but come War and Sansa knew her shortcomings - she could not fight, could not order battle strategy, could not command troops, could not understand warfare and this could mean all the difference between life and death.

Did she really fight for Jon? This was a question she asked herself every single day. Could she have protected him and saved him from the Wall and guided him to his destiny? She felt now she could have. All that she had needed was to tell Greyworm - Jons Captor at Kingslanding that Jon was a Targaryen, a blood kin of the Queen. She was certain now that Greyworm would have spared him. She suspected for long that Greyworms rational mind had been fighting against his emotional heart where Jon was concerned. It was the only reason why the fearless leader of the Unsullied had kept Jon alive for such a long time when all he had to do was to put a spear through Jons heart in a matter of seconds, when he had found out that Jon had murdered his Queen. If only she had told him the Truth, perhaps Grey Worm would not have insisted that Jon go the wall and would have left Westeros to decide his destiny. Why would Grey worm agree to the Wall? He did not understand what the Wall was or what it signified. As far as Greyworm was concerned, Jon was a bastard son of a Northern Warlord who had killed his Queen and wanted the next best or worst thing to death for him. The Others - Ser Davos, Bronn the Sellsword and Brienne of Tarth had known nothing about Jons origins. She had had a choice, a choice to put things right and to guide Jon to his Throne and instead she had chosen rule for herself and exile for Jon. Neither she nor her crippled brother had deserved their honors and time had proven that she was right.

Forty Two years! And no still peace in Westeros. Out in the South - the Sons of Ser Bronn of Highgarden were already conspiring to take Kingslanding. They had their wealth and power now and believed their fathers oath to protect Kingslanding and the realm and never take arms against either had died along with him twelve years ago. They felt no loss of honor in ousting Bran the dreamer and lining up the throne for themselves and their generations. Out in the East - in Essos - the Mukhtar of Dragons Bay - Vahario Naharis - son of Dario Naharis I , Former Lieutenant of the Mother of Dragons, was preparing for a large scale invasion of the West financed entirely by the Iron Bank. The Bank was no friend of the realm. Within months of Bran becoming King, the bank had sent their envoy with a demand of Seventy Two Million Dragons - a debt borrowed by the Queen of Westeros for financing the Erstwhile Golden Company, who had lasted fifty inglorious minutes on the battlefield against the Mad Queen and her Dragon. They had not appreciated the High Councils refusal of repayment using the logic that the Iron Throne was no more and so the debt to be written off. The Bank believed that Westeros owed the debt and whoever controlled westeros had to pay back the debt. When the prospects for settling their debt looked like coming to naught, the Bank had lain in wait for years, waiting for the right enemies and now Vahario had seemed the perfect choice to back. Vahario Naharis proclaimed that it was his destiny to avenge the Khaleesi of Essos, the Mother of the Dragons but in reality wanted more land and more rule. It was too good an opportunity to pass.

In the far north, Rheddard Snow - King of the Free Folk - son of Jon Snow and Sansa's nephew ruled independent of the Wall and of the North. He ruled with the Council of the powerful Giantsbane Brothers - Three Gigantic sons of Tormund Giantsbane all of whom had sworn fealty to the bloodline of Jon Snow and who would die protecting their King. The Far Northmen as the wildlings were now called, ruled the vast lands beyond the wall with their new capital at Ghost town and owed allegiance neither to the Queen in the North nor to the King in Westeros. If the Wall was supposed to keep them at bay, it was not doing its job. There was no man on the wall who would take arms against anyone carrying the blood of Jon Snow or Tormund Giantsbane and there were many in the watch who would abandon the wall at the slightest sign from Rheddard or the Giantsbanes.

When Jon Snow had exiled himself to the Far North and had abandoned his command of the Wall - the Council of Kingslanding had ordered that the Rangers on the Wall allied with an Army of Northmen from Winterfell , capture and arrest Jon Snow and bring him back to the Wall - dead or alive. In response, a message had been sent by the Watch Commander - Bryce of Waterford the one thousandth and first to hold such rank, categorically refusing to march against Lord Snow or the Far Northmen, many of whom the watch had began to regard as their own kin and brethren. Sansas own soldiers - numbering nearly six thousand had to the last man refused to battle and discipline someone who had saved them all literally from the face of death and so both the North and the Realm had decided to allow Jon to leave and live out his destiny as a far ranger than to face mutiny and rebellion.

Sansa could still remember the day when her maester had brought her the news that Jon Snow was married and had a family. She had genuinely felt surprised. She had thought Jon was beyond falling in love. After all he had lost the love of his life twice and Sansa had been certain Jon would not marry or love again. Why did Jon suddenly decide to marry and start a family? Sansa was sure it was because of his anger- anger at being betrayed by family, by country and by fate - anger at being thwarted and being killed once, because of human laws and human ways. He had refused the mantle of King of the Free Folk - out of respect for his oath to Westeros and to Greyworm, instead having adopted the title of Lord Ranger of the Free Folk. When he had died two years ago, his son Rheddard had been made King of the Free Folk. Sansa had never seen Rheddard but had heard of his prowesses as a ranger and a fire warrior though she did not know what it meant.

The Far Northmen and many of her own men wanted Rheddard to take the throne after Sansa but Rheddard would not respond to any overtures from his aunt. He would march to winterfell, the day she died and not before and out of respect to the oath he had made to his father he would not to take up arms against the Stark family.

The realm was so broken now. Bran the dreamer spent all his time warging and the council had proved a failure. They were supposed to be pioneers of peace, to break the chains, to set Westeros free and instead they had failed. Life was still the same. Lords all over Westeros were still petty, cruel and malicious and People emigrated from Westeros every day. The Council who de facto ruled Kingslanding had now passed laws restricting and forbidding emigration. The incompetence of the council was reflective for all to see . After the death of Ser Davos and Bronn- the council was held together solely by Tyrion Lannister who had used diplomacy magnificently to avoid wars or invasions and hold the realm for son long but the rest of his colleagues were pitiable. Westeros no longer had iron control on anything. The Lords ruled as they wish to rule and offered only ceremonial honor to Kingslanding.

As Queen in the North - she had no heirs, nobody to take her place after her. Everyone had hoped she would marry either Gendry Baratheon lord of Storms End or Robin Arryn lord of the Vale, her cousin, once a silly boy but since shaped into a strong and wise ruler by his mentor and her old friend Lord Royce. Sansa had considered both marriages, if only to have heirs and not for love but she could not go through with it. She could still not bear the tough of any man and her body revolted at the sight of any man - even someone as well built and handsome as Gendry Baratheon. So she had remained unmarried until she could no longer bear children. Heirless, she would leave the North in the hands of the far northmen with an uncertain fate and relation with Westeros. Her greatest worry for war would come again to the north - from the East and from the South.

Sansa hobbled over to the largest window of her bedroom, each step more painful than the previous one and looked onto the vast snow filled courtyard of Winterfell Castle, her home for all her life except for her time as a prisoner in Kingslanding. It was the beginning of day and the courtyard was a hive of bustling activity, with servants carrying vast mounds of pork haunches, plucked chickens and vegetables to the Kitchens where food for all those who lived in the castle wood be prepared. She watched a group of children, fighting with wooden swords - shuddering at the memories of her brothers Robb and Rickon,feeling the ghosts of the past in the room which had been bedchambers for her parents, grandparents and several other older generations of starks. It was this very room where her father had first received news of the treachery of the lannisters, taking him on a journey that would cost him his life, and that of his sons Robb and Rickon.

She was still swirling in her memories when three knocks on her door shook her out of her misty reminiscence. Three Knocks, - two long and one short - a sign that her Maester Lyford was outside and that he had messages for her. It was always routine for Lyford to visit his Queen to give her any important messages he had received the previous night. Three knocks meant he was alone and there was nothing significant to report. Sansa moved away from the window, facing the door and standing straight and proud. It would not do well to look pensive before Lyford.

He was a tall thin man, in his early fifties, blue eyes with a taut face and hard lips. He was at the Oldtown Citadel researching on cures for grayscale from the Old Book of Curus and the New Book of Samwell Tarly when he had received a message that the Old Maester of Winterfell had died and that he had recommended Lyford to come in his place. Sansa had liked the looks of Lyford. She had no regrets to that account even today. Lyford kept his secrets, gave good counsel and handled the affairs of the castle with an alacrity that reminded her of Maester Luwin - the Maester of Winterfell when Sansa was born, who was murdered by Ramsay Bolton.

"Your Grace" - he began by bowing his head - "Maester Cyrillus at Whiteharbour writes that Lord Tyrion with his entourage are expected to at Winterfell this evening. Apparently he intends to make it all the way this time".

Five times in the last two years - Lord Tyrion - Hand of Bran the Dreamer had announced his visit to the North but had never advanced ahead of Whiteharbour. Apparently something had always come up but not this time. He had travelled all over the realm - making at least three visits a year but he had not visited north for a long time.

"How old is he Lyford?" - she asked. It amazed her that Tyrion who was older than her could still travel so much and she at sixty four found it tough to climb up and down the stairs of the left tower every morning.

"Eighty One - your Grace"- Lyford replied. He was excellent with dates and had name days and death days at the tip of his fingers. "It is a miracle. Dwarves seldom live beyond fifty. They always die when they reach that age."

Sansa nodded with a hidden smile. Tyrion was special in many ways. He was no ordinary dwarf. His intelligence surpassed anyone else she knew even Tarly with his books. He had single handedly kept the Kingdom and the Realm together from the avaricious Bronn brothers, the strong headed Vahario Naharis and from the internal turmoil of indebtedness while his fellow councillors had died one after the other and were replaced by denser and more stupid ones and while his king dreamt of dragons and dancers.

"What else?"- Sansa asked Maester Lyford

"No news of the Lady Arya your grace."

Arya! Her sister. One she had hated for several years and then loved. Who had left on an expedition to the Lands of the Northwest. Arya who wrote regularly to the Old Tower and to her - with news of her new lands and its inmates. Whose first leather bound diary was being scribed into a book at the Old Tower. Four years ago- Arya who was then fifty eight had set off on yet another expedition and had not yet returned. There were no ravens from her and none of her companions had been spotted anywhere else. Sansa was not too worried though. Arya had lived through Harrenhal, Braavos and the night of the living dead. She was safe. Sansa was sure of this. She still wanted some news of Arya and had instructed her rangers to keep her informed regularly.

"And what of Court today?" - Sansa asked. It was court at Winterfell and Sansa had to sit through a number of plaints and fights between her northmen enforcing the law. It was necessary but also boring. Sansa also hated being the only stark who could not swing the sword to enforce her sentence. It was why she rarely sentenced anyone to death. It was usually a trip to the wall to join the watch. It was also why the watch had four hundred men even today when there was no danger to the realm.

"Sixteen Cases your grace" - Lyford answered. "Land disputes, Animal Kills, Stealing and Rape".

"Wonderful" - Sansa sighed. It was time to start another day.