Seven Dreams One Kingdom

1-Sansa

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories. They are for my own entertainment and something I like to share.

Outside, she sensed her familiar, an eagle. Once it was a dove, but she'd grown bolder when the bird died. An eagle was stronger, and this one was young enough to have a long life. A second life, she thought. No kings or Queens. Just hunting and rearing her family. The thought of family made her ache. She was the only one who could have carried on the stark name, but she'd failed. Sansa was still young enough to bear children, but she'd not gotten around to taking a husband. The only man she'd have let touch her was gone. Her betrayal had wounded him too deeply. Now, after ruling for less than five years, she'd become ill while visiting her uncle Edmure in the Riverlands.

As she'd returned to Winterfell, she'd progressively gotten worse. She knew she was dying; the maester had told her advisers as much when they thought she was sleeping. Poison, he'd said. She was too far gone to treat with an antidote. It had needed to be administrated within the first day, and the Riverrun Maester had told her it was a simple cold, leaving her to grow sicker and sicker. By the second day, she slipped in and out of consciousness, insisting upon returning home. She couldn't die anywhere else other than Winterfell.

With her imminent death, was the last chance for House Stark to survive. Robb and Rickon were dead. Bran couldn't have children, neither could Arya. The only other Stark left had been exiled to Castle Black. But he had gone north of the wall, never to be heard of since. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. The last time they had been a pack was on that fateful day in Kings Landing, when they all went their separate ways. Now the Starks would be no more. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Her heartbeat slowed, she couldn't breathe. Would the whitewalkers return if there was no longer a Stark in Winterfell? she wondered, the knowledge that these would be her last thoughts. Her throat constricted and everything went dark.

With one hand around her throat, the other wielding a blade, Ramsay carved the Bolton cross into the naked skin on her back. Then he fucked her arse like a dog, rough and painful, until she bled.

"Wake up, you fucking bitch!"

A familiar wet sensation, her back coated in blood. He'd broken her skin again. Sansa often withdrew into herself when he raped and cut her, retreating into her dreams, or more often, nightmares. She could no longer tell where one life ended, and the other began. Sansa knew the only way to stop him was do what he wanted, so she screamed.

"That's a good little wife."

He grabbed her hips and dug his fingernails into her skin, like razor blades, until half-moon imprints in her skin bled. He took her in her cunny, spilling his seed inside her, attempting to put a child in her belly. Once he'd finished, he collected his knife, threw her on her bed, and got dressed, before leaving the room without saying a word.

Sansa wanted to sleep, knowing dreams of an impossible future would come to her if she did. From the day she'd been forced to marry Ramsey, she'd had the same seven dreams, all in chronological order. Sansa wanted to re-live the details of most of the dreams.

The first was her escape to Castle Black, searching for her half-brother, Jon. The seven dreams followed her life until she died. While unconsciousness when Ramsay raped her, she relived a detailed dream of her death. After the final dream, they would repeat chronologically. Initially vague, and subsequently more detailed. Each time, included detailed conversations, emotions, and an undesirable future. They weren't always unpleasant, some were good, like seeing Jon again. Some were terrifying nightmares, like the blue-eyed monsters. Sansa consoled herself, knowing she couldn't feel pain from Ramsay's cruelty.