Northern Conqueror

Chapter 1: Sword of the Crossroads

Author's Note: I originally posted this story on AO3 and FFnet where it's completed. It's based largely on show canon to the point there are scenes directly from episodes in some chapters, but altered by circumstances.

It starts at Season 4, Episode 5 "First of His Name" and begins diverging from there. Generally any storyline that isn't being shown, bar the North and the Vale, is happening as it happened on the show until the characters show up in the story. There will also be some elements from the books integrated into the story, but portrayed as a show version of them.

The story is split into essentially three parts. The first, dealing with the moment it splits from show canon to around the end of season six is firmly a Jonsa story. The second part, dealing with season seven, introduces Dany and a relationship between the three. The second part is basically season eight and gets pretty nuts.

Chapter 1: Sword of the Crossroads

"Your mother always had a sweet tooth, you know?" Lysa Arryn said, letting Sansa take a lemon cake from the tray she'd brought. Pouring her a drink as she spoke of Catelyn getting fat before being put on a diet.

She'd seemed so sweet and caring until Sansa asked where the she got the lemons.

"He feels responsible for you," she said holding Sansa's fingers, cutting her off to ask, "Why? Why does he feel responsible for you?"

No matter how she'd answered, Lysa barely listened. She was hurting her fingers, Sansa fighting back tears as she pleaded for her aunt to believe she was a virgin, that Petyr loved her, that she was nothing more than a stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns. She was nearly as shocked as she was relieved when Lysa got to her feet and hugged Sansa to her chest.

"Shh, shh, shh. It'll be alright. It will all be alright. You'll be a widow soon..." Lysa looked to the head of auburn hair against her chest, lighter than her own, just like her sister's, and she knew. She knew she couldn't take the chance. She couldn't lose Petyr, not now, not ever. She wanted to obey him, trusted everything would be alright if she did as he said, and yet she couldn't trust this girl.

"I bet you miss your family, don't you?" Lysa asked, her voice sweet again.

Sansa looked up, still shaken and uneased by the sudden shifts in her aunt. "I do. Every day."

"All of them?" Lysa asked carefully.

Though confused, Sansa nodded. "Of course. I loved all of them."

"Even the bastard?" Lysa's brow arched, managing to keep her tone from being too accusatory.

"Jon?" Sansa's brow knit, frowning. He was the only one left alive as far as she knew, the only one not taken from her, not lost or betrayed. With a hint of shame she nodded. "I was awful to him growing up, but I do. He's the only one left."

For a moment she thought her aunt was about to slap her, fighting back a wince before Lysa's hand settled against her cheek and she beamed. "Would you like to see him again?"

The fire in her aunt's eyes was unsettling, as though Sansa's answer didn't matter. Still, she nodded. "Of course."

"Then you will," she said firmly. "You'll go to your bastard brother. You'll go north, stay hidden away there, far from the rest of the world. Far from those awful lions." She stroked Sansa's cheek, sighing contently, satisfied with herself.

"Aunt Lysa," Sansa started, but Lysa cut her off.

"I'll send some men with you, ones who can keep you secret, keep you safe. It will take time, but you'll be safer there, at the edge of the world."