Chapter 7

Riverrun – Sansa

When Sansa awoke for a second time, she laid in bed as everything came rushing back over her.

The storm, her grief, her pain from losing her father.

And then, this.

Her waking up in Riverrun, seventeen hundred years in the past.

How in the hell had this happened?

There was bright sunshine coming through one of the windows, in what she realized was a room that appeared almost circular. She tried to think about what she knew about Riverrun.

It was located at the confluence of two rivers; it was the seat of House Tully and was in the heart of the Riverlands. In times of danger, due to the enormous man-made ditch, it had colossal sluice gates that could be opened to fill a wide moat surrounding all three sides of the castle, turning it into an island. It could hold supplies for men and horses for as long as two years if it were adequately stocked and garrisoned.

"What else?" she murmured out loud, sitting up in the bed. She and her father had visited Riverrun on their tour last August, but it hadn't intrigued her the way Casterly Rock had.

Sansa knew what she was doing – attempting to use logic and facts, so she didn't freak out that she'd somehow found herself back in time.

The castle had red sandstone walls and crenellated battlements, with towers making it look like something from a fairy tale. It was a 'classic' castle, what most people thought of when they imagined a castle. And now she was living here! And she was the eldest daughter of Lord Hoster Tully.

Sansa giggled and thought that perhaps it sounded slightly hysterical.

The Tully's were followers of the Seven and had both a sept and godswood, with a heart tree that was a slender, carved weirwood. The castle was known for its gardens that had many types of trees, including elms and redwoods that nesting birds loved and it even a small stream.

The Great Hall, where large councils were held, had the high seat where the Lord of Riverrun sat. That was Hoster Tully.

A pain went through Sansa's head as she was assaulted with 'memories' of her and her father. Only not her real father, but the man who was her father in this timeline.

Or was it this world? Where was she? Was she back in the Westeros she studied? Or was this some parallel universe? And how in the hell did she get from the North, in Wintertown, almost a thousand miles away to the south, in the Riverlands?

Sansa wasn't an idiot. She knew the basic tenants of time travel from movies and shows she'd watched, although she'd never been a big fan of the popular show Outlander. She'd been too involved in her studies to care.

Still, she had a choice to make.

She could attempt to change nothing and try to find a way home. That might sound logical, but she had no idea how she even got back in time and no idea how she might, as an unmarried woman, find her way North in ancient Westeros when war raged.

Or, she could throw herself into this life where she had been placed. She had no idea how long she might stay here, but nothing was waiting for her back home. No family, a few friends and a degree she cared little for.

If she thought of this as an adventure, she might just be able to get through her first few days, at least until she had a better handle on things.

"Think," she commanded her brain.

It was always her greatest asset, and she needed it more now than ever. She had all this knowledge of this time and these people; she just had to figure out how to use it to keep herself alive.

She was still contemplating what to do when a young woman opened the door and popped her head in.

"Oh! My Lady, you're awake."

"I am."

Sansa gave the woman a tentative smile.

This might be easier if she shut her mouth and smiled through her first day, although there was a part of Sansa that was dying of curiosity. She had spent so much time studying this time period, and now she was here.

It was one thing to visit ruins and use one's imagination to try and think about what things might have been like, but there was something genuinely invigorating at being here! The smells, the sounds, the tastes! She was living history – albeit in a perilous time.

"Well, you've missed the morning meal where your sisters broke their fast. I'll call for a tray for you."

Then the woman frowned.

"And a bath."

She tsk'd looking at Sansa's hair and nails.

"You're a fright, My Lady. Too much time on the back of a horse and dallying with your bow and arrow."

Sansa smiled as her memories washed over her. This woman's name was Barba, and she'd been Sansa's handmaiden for ages. At thirty-two, Barba was a veritable font of information.

"But that's not quite fair, is it? I adore music, calligraphy, poems and songs. Oh! And dancing! I like dancing," Sansa said, trying to appease her maid.

The woman gave a slight smile and bobbed her head.

"You do, My Lady. And you've taken to running the keep for your father admirably, even when I know it is time-consuming and you'd rather be doing something leisurely. But you've always had a head for numbers, and you've read more books in your father's study than he can keep stocked."

It was clear that Barba approved of Lady Sansa Tully.

Now, if only Sansa Stark could make herself think and act like her ancient counterpart. This was so confusing, and it made her brain hurt.

Modern Sansa did love to ride horses and music and reading, and she excelled at archery. But they'd hardly have a compound bow and arrow back in 283! The last thing she wanted was to promise something she couldn't do, like running a keep the size of Riverrun. But it appeared she'd have no choice – it was going to be sink or swim!

Then the woman clapped her hands and hurried from the room to get a bath and food for her mistress.

Sansa threw the covers back and stepped out onto the stone floor, finding a pair of what appeared to be ancient Westeros's version of slippers and a robe. She donned both and went to a table, where a brush, a comb and to Sansa's delight, a mirror were located. She picked up the mirror and moaned.

"Oh gods," she said, noting her pale face and dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was a mess, and she looked like fright.

When Barba returned, she had a host of servants with her, and soon Sansa found herself being stripped and placed in the warm water, not a care for her nudity given as they scrubbed at her.

At one point, a thin, dimpled red-haired woman entered and sat on a chair, complaining loudly to Sansa about Catelyn.

"She thinks because she's betrothed, and you are not, that she is somehow mistress of Riverrun. But we all know father left you in charge. Just because you refuse to name a man you'd like for a husband, and she is doing her 'duty' marrying Lord Stark, she thinks she'd better than you."

Lysa huffed out an indignant breath and glared at Sansa, who was still in the tub, her hair now being washed, combed and oiled.

Sansa's fake memories gave her the entire back story of the three Tully sisters and the one Tully son. It appeared that there was some tension between Sansa and her two younger sisters. At her age, Sansa should have already been married but was not. She suppressed a shudder and thanked the gods she was not.

While some thought her father was indulging her and waiting for a love match, others thought Hoster Tully was hedging his bets in case his son Edmure wouldn't turn out to be a proper ruler for Riverrun. Others wondered if Lord Tully was waiting on the chance to make Sansa Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The list of eligible men was much longer than women, especially eligible females from the Great Houses.

As Sansa found herself caught up in the drama of her youngest 'sister,' she knew that all of this was false - like everything about her being here was.

She had no idea why she was unmarried at this time, only that she was grateful she hadn't been placed into some timeline where she was attached to some brute of a man.

For one brief moment, thoughts of Tywin crossed her mind.

He was forty-one and a widower for a decade this year – and yet, no woman had ever managed to move the Lord of the Westerlands to take another wife. Despite his fearsome reputation, Tywin Lannister remained one of the most eligible men in the Kingdom.

Sansa snorted at how many men were, as of yet, unwed. No need for Tinder or dating apps or awkward setups.

Lost in her world, Sansa missed what Lysa said until she complained about Petyr being sent away.

Sansa's blood ran cold as she thought of one of her least favourite people in history. Baelish. He was the same age as Lysa, two years younger than Sansa, and a truly loathsome man. Sansa was happy he had been sent back to his home in the Vale, far away from House Tully.

Both Tully sisters had a weird blind spot when it came to the man Sansa knew. Even her father and uncle did.

And Sansa realized with dawning excitement that she had to prevent some of the bad things that happened in the past, given what she knew.

To start, keeping Lysa at Riverrun would be paramount. Her youngest 'sister' needed to grow up.

Sansa stood abruptly, looking cross. She reached for a robe as she stepped from her bath.

"Enough, Lysa. Stop talking about our sister that way."

Lysa's face pinched in anger, and she spun on her heel and hurried from Sansa's room just as another woman entered.

This one was much prettier than Lysa and gave Sansa a disapproving glare. Catelyn was betrothed to Ned Stark, who was the same age as she was.

Sansa worried that she'd overstepped by being cross with Lysa.

"Did you have to be so short with her?" Catelyn asked, disapproval clear on her face.

Sansa's mouth dropped open as she gazed at her second sister. Sansa had been defending her!

There was a look in Catelyn's eyes that Sansa did not trust. This was not a person who liked Sansa that much. In fact, it seemed that there was almost nothing there but anger and jealousy.

"Here. This came while you were sleeping."

Cat thrust a scroll into Sansa's hands, and she unfurled it, secretly wishing she could stop and examine it closer.

She was holding a real scroll from ancient Westeros!!!

Then she frowned.

"Father was injured?"

"Yes. He is being sent home immediately, accompanied by Lords Arryn, Stark and Baratheon."

Sansa's mind raced.

She knew that with Jon Arryn losing his heir, her father thought he could make a match between their houses. She has so little time to change things.

"Wait, why did you open a scroll addressed to me?"

Sansa saw her sister's face pinched.

"As I said earlier, you were abed. I suspected the missive might be urgent. Shall I speak with father's steward, Utherydes Wayn, about his return?"

Sansa noted how Catelyn had neatly avoided giving her the real reason that she'd opened the scroll and knew she'd have to keep an eye on her 'sister.'

"No. I will speak with our steward myself."

Catelyn nodded and then looked at Sansa as she was dripping onto the floor.

"Perhaps if you can find the time, we could discuss my wedding, if that's not too much trouble for you. I'd like to ensure Lord Stark is given the honour he is due."

Catelyn and Ned were due to wed when the man from the North arrived at Riverrun.

Sansa nodded, lost in her thoughts as she sat, as her handmaiden began to dry and plate her hair and then help her dress.

It was utterly fascinating for a person so consumed by this time period to be living here, Sansa thought as she dressed for her first full day as Lady Sansa Tully.

Her gown was a deep green, with long sleeves and intricate stitching that formed a pattern of some sort. Sansa wondered if it meant anything but was quickly ushered into some soft leather boots and then handed a cape.

She must have frowned, for the woman helping her said, "For when you take your daily walk in the godswood, My Lady. With your father away, you spend most days in his solar with your steward, Wayn or in the godswood."

Thankfully when she exited her chambers, the maid bowed to the older man waiting for her.

"Steward Wayn," Barba said before hurrying away.

Sansa gave the man a quick look and saw he appeared worried. Remembering the scroll she'd been handed, she asked, "How badly injured was my father?"

They began to walk, and Sansa tried not to gasp at being in a real castle from ancient times. She wanted to stop and examine EVERYTHING. Of course, that would be a dead giveaway that something was up!

Instead, she forced herself to focus on what the man that her father trusted was saying.

"Not too badly, My Lady. He should arrive home within three to four days and followed shortly by the others."

"Are things ready for the wedding?"

Her steward nodded and then launched into a long narrative about both the welcome feast and wedding feast that would take place in Riverrun over the next few weeks.

As Sansa learned in the next few days, there were endless tasks to complete - even being a noblewoman. Perhaps more so being in the position she was. It was clear that she had been relied upon by her father and that she had taken over as the Lady of Riverrun upon his mother's death.

And while her 'memories' indicated that she and her father were close, this closeness had clearly caused a rift between her and her sisters.

Lysa, who was a few years younger than Sansa, was a spoiled, miserable thing.

As for Catelyn, Sansa tried to warm to the woman.

She had hoped that being closer in age, only one year apart, would make it so that they had more in common. But it was evident that Hoster's indulgence that Sansa wished to wait to be married hadn't sat well with the middle Tully sister.

Catelyn seemed to resent Sansa's status as the oldest Tully sister.

It was two days after she'd come back in time when Sansa had joined Catelyn and Lysa to discuss Cat's upcoming wedding when the actual impact on what being in this time period hit home from Sansa. They were in Cat's room, and she was trying on her wedding gown for her sisters.

"You've never even met Ned Stark?" Sansa burst out, horrified at the thought.

"But, you're marrying him in a fortnight!"

Ned Stark was a second son that had never expected to be in such a position.

Cat's eyes had narrowed.

"I am doing my duty," she said. "More than I can say for you. Father is getting older, and Edmure will be the next Lord of Riverrun, Sansa. How many more years do you think you can defer father from finding you a match before no man in the realm wants you?"

Sansa's jaw dropped.

Most women her age were dating, sleeping around, going out to bars, and generally living life. Significantly few people in her time were married and having children at her age. Now she was being called an old maid because of her 'advanced' age of twenty-two?

Although, in the future, Sansa did have a friend that had married when she was a few years out of high school. It wasn't unheard of, just not common in her time.

Sansa would have laughed if the entire situation didn't feel so horrifying.

"Yes, but sister, you've never met him. What if you don't…." Sansa was at a loss for words.

"What if I don't what? Love him? Love is for the poems and songs you love so much, Sansa. I am practical. Ned Stark is the Lord of Winterfell. We are the same age. He is a powerful man, and by all accounts, good and kind. He has all his teeth and is said to be quite handsome."

He had all his teeth? That was considered a good catch here?

Catelyn must have sensed Sansa's horror, for she gave a sly grin.

"Lord Stark is coming with Lord Arryn and Lord Baratheon, and you remain unmarried, sister."

The implication was clear, and since Sansa knew that she would need to be wed soon. Her stomach roiled.

Not for the first time did Sansa wonder if sending a desperate raven to Casterly Rock would garner her any response from Tywin. If she had to marry anyone in the past, she prayed it would be him. Perhaps she could speak with Hoster when he arrived home and beg him to attempt to make a match for her with Tywin. A match with the west would be far preferable than either the Vale or the Stormlands for Lord Tully.

Sansa wasn't afraid of Tywin since she knew him as well as he knew himself.

Like Hoster Tully, Tywin had loved his wife, and everyone in the realm knew it. He'd be a better choice than someone like Robert Baratheon.

Sansa was lost in her own musings when she finally heard Lysa speak.

"Well, when I do marry, I will only marry for love."

Catelyn shook her head in pity at their youngest sister.

"You are a fool. Father needs alliances. With me in the North and Sansa married to Lord Robert, he'd, he'd have three of the seven kingdoms in the palm of his hand."

That sparked an idea in Sansa's head. Surely Tywin would see how powerful his neighbour Lord Tully was becoming, should both marriages go forward. Wouldn't he want to do something about that?

"What about House Lannister?" Sansa blurted out, both Tully women turning to look at her.

Catelyn arched an elegant eyebrow. "They are in mourning, sister, remember?"

Sansa said nothing, watching as Cat's lips curled back.

"His youngest son was found dead four months ago. His daughter has been banished to her rooms, beside herself in grief, and his heir, his golden lion, is lost to him – a Kingsguard to the Mad King in the capital."

Sansa's heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Tyrion was dead? Like in her dream. What did that mean? Did that mean her dreams were real? And did her 'dreams' have anything to do with her coming back in time? Her lion sigil ring did not survive the trip back, and she wondered where it had gone.

"Yes, but what about the Great Lion himself?" Sansa pressed.

The Tully sisters looked at one another, for once united in their reaction. Both women threw their heads back and laughed until tears ran down their cheeks.

"Oh, gods. That is the best jape I've heard in years," Lysa said, clutching at her side.

Catelyn simply shook her head, something akin to pity in her eyes.

"Oh, Sansa, is that who you've been holding out for? You'll be dry as dust and gone with the Stranger before that man ever takes another wife. His love for Lady Joanna is legendary, and word is he has never ever had another woman in his bed to ease his loneliness."

Sansa frowned at the thought of some other woman sharing Tywin's bed, touching him. It was such an odd feeling that coursed through her that she had such a hard time identifying it.

Finally, she realized it was jealousy of all things.

Even here, she thought of Tywin as hers.

After that, she'd left her sisters to wander through the godswood, one of her favourite places in the entire castle. She'd learned and seen and tasted so many unbelievable things in the past few days that her mind almost ached from all the new experiences. As it was, she knew that she was having a hard time adjusting to her place here. She knew her position here was better than many women, and yet, as had been pointed out more than once, she was unmarried.

How long would her 'father' wait to make a match that would benefit his house and his position?

And it wasn't even like she could blame him, as such were the ways and methods of this time. Building strong alliances through marriage was as common as drinking wine each night with dinner.

Which left her in a very precarious position, being unmarried at her age and with her breeding.

That was why she was almost desperate to send something to Tywin Lannister - to try and convince him to perhaps take pity on her. She'd demand nothing from him other than maybe a way to save them both from more matchmaking attempts.

So far, Sansa had found no time to even look into the possibility of time travel, not that she would know where to start. If she spoke with Master Vyman, he'd surely think he mad, and as extensive as her father's library was, it wasn't like there was a section entitled Magic 101: What to do when you find yourself back in time with no idea how you got there.

She was a modern woman, an intelligent, well-educated, wealthy 21st-century woman.

So how did this even happen?

Hoster Tully was due home tomorrow; perhaps he'd be willing to broker a marriage for her that would not see her married to someone like Robert Baratheon, who liked to whore and drink. If she were so beloved by her 'father' surely, he would help her?

It was this thought she hung onto as she readied herself for bed. If there was one thing she thoroughly enjoyed about the time period she found herself in, it was the gowns that she wore each day and the talented handmaiden that wove her hair into beautiful braids.

Beyond the beautiful gowns and decadent food, the lack of indoor plumbing had Sansa shuddering, along with the smells of a castle, even one as nice as Riverrun. She also missed YouTube, Netflix and TikTok, her friends, electricity, home, and Dad.

The only truly good thing about these past few days is that she had to concentrate so hard on 'adapting' to the past that she'd barely had time to grieve her father during the day.

But at night, when she was finally alone, it washed over her in waves, just how much she missed her Dad. And it drove home just how alone she was. She literally had nothing in not one, but two lifetimes. How pathetic was that?

She knew the servants must have heard her crying since they seemed to be everywhere and know everything. It was a bit like Downton Abbey only with fewer amenities and more death, violence and blood.

And as much as she tried to treat this as an adventure, Sansa knew she was in genuine danger here. Hell, getting a cut that healed improperly without the aid of modern antibiotics could spell the end for someone.

As she felt her eyelids close that night, Sansa vowed to spend more time with Maester Vyman and learn as much as she could about this time period she found herself. Book knowledge was one thing, but she was living here.

She needed to know as much as possible so she could survive, and then maybe, just maybe, find a way to move Tywin from his Rock so that he could marry her. If there was one man in the kingdom that could keep her safe, it was him.

Sansa was huffing out a breath as she climbed the spiral staircase to reach her father in his solar, high in one of the towers.

"Who the hell needs spin class or yoga," she muttered, feeling her thighs burn.

At this rate, she'd have the best ass in Westeros. Then she giggled to herself. She might be fitting in here, fooling people about who she was, but inside she was still the same woman from the future.

Her 'father' had been home for a day now, injured and heavily drugged to dull his pain, but now he'd demanded her presence. Riverrun's main keep was triangular, which meant the lord's solar was as well, and Sansa had gazed up at the huge stone balcony that jutted eastwards from the high tower when she'd been in the yard.

Her memories told her that she and Cat had spent countless hours here, reading to their father while her younger brother Edmure had played with blocks. Edmure was now older, and even though he liked to act strong, he'd found Sansa almost every day, trailing after her like a shadow. She didn't mind; he was a sweet child and one she thought not meant for this harsh world in which they lived.

There was a window in the solar of her father's chambers, under which her father had his desk, claiming it was the best light in the entire castle as he wrote in his ledgers. She'd often found him there and had spent time here when he was away.

It was so odd to have another 'father' – one with manufactured feelings.

While Sansa knew the truth of who she was, the others did not. That meant the jealousy she saw in her sister's faces, the adoration in Edmure's, and yes, the love in Hoster's face was all genuine for them.

To them, she was Sansa Tully. They had but one set of memories of her, and she'd be an idiot to spoil any of it.

She knocked and was granted entry, pushing inside the warm solar to see her father propped up in his bed. It was a canopied thing, massive, and the pillars were carved as leaping trout.

Even as a historian with an incredible knowledge of this time period, Sansa had to bite her tongue lest she laughed at seeing where these Great Houses put their sigil. It was on everything!

Except for Brynden, the Blackfish, Tully. He'd made his own when he'd refused to marry.

Sansa eyed her 'uncle' carefully when he'd arrived home with her father, noting that Brynden was the same age as Tywin. He wore his blackfish proudly, almost defiantly, she knew. The falling out between Hoster and Brynden was legendary, as the younger Tully had refused to do his duty and take a wife.

Sansa knew that that relationship would fracture even more at the upcoming feast when Brynden told Hoster that he'd taken up service with Lord Arryn.

Sansa knew that her brother, Edmure, needed Bryden here. The Riverlands needed her uncle here.

Jon Arryn had many loyal knights and men by his side; Riverrun was dealing with four houses that still supported the Targaryen's rule and needed to be rooted out, their loyalty proven. It was funny how almost two weeks in the past, and she felt such allegiance to House Tully.

Sansa knew that Brynden had continued to fight in the rebellion, adding to his reputation as a fearsome warrior. After the uprising, Brynden had gone to the Vale, eventually being named Knight of the Gate, the commander of the Bloody Gate. It was an honour to be sure, but he was needed here, in his home.

Which was why Sansa had asked that her uncle be present for her conversation with her father. She needed to get this right and knew she had but one chance.

"Sansa!" Hoster cried happily when she entered the chambers.

Despite him not being her father, a warm feeling rushed over Sansa, and she hurried to his side. She hugged him and, for a moment, imagined it was her father's arms around her before she asked about the Battle of the Bells.

Both men eagerly spoke to her of their victory, before asking about Riverrun.

She gave both her father and Brynden a look, and her father chuckled.

"That means I'm in trouble, aren't I, daughter?"

Sansa proceeded to spend an hour convincing her father and uncle that Lysa needed to stay at Riverrun and be with her family, and mature.

"Lysa should stay here and learn to run Riverrun for a time."

Hoster grunted, thinking on that. "I suppose she could."

"I am worried, father," she said, pressing her point. "There are rumours that some houses in the Riverlands remain loyal to the King. We need to ensure that they know whom they pledged their fealty to. That is where our efforts should be focused."

"I've heard things as well. Darry, Mooton, Goodbrooks and Ryger," Brynden said, a scowl on his face. He hated traitors.

Couldn't he see he was needed here, to keep their family strong and safe?

"Uncle," Sansa said, turning her bright blue eyes on him. "You are loved and respected throughout the Riverlands. Surely, this is a job for someone of your skills. Our house needs you and your commanding presence. And if Lysa were to be married to one of our loyal bannermen in a few years, then others would know how serious we are about rewarding their loyalty."

Bryden appeared intrigued at the thought, and Sansa knew she couldn't force him. But perhaps he'd think twice of 'throwing in' with House Arryn if he knew that he was needed here.

"My brother needs you, uncle. He has much to learn."

Brynden met her gaze and gave a short nod before he abruptly rose and took his leave.

When she was alone with her father, she grabbed his hand.

Hoster shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

"You are brilliant, Sansa. If only I could have secured a marriage between our house and House Lannister. That would have been quite a coup, bringing the lions into the fold."

He tutted and shook his head.

"It seems you've thought of everything but marriage for yourself," her father said, a gleam in his eyes.

Sansa's heartbeat faster, and she couldn't help but think of Tywin. Something must have shown on her face because her father pounced.

"Who are thinking of that brings such a light to your eyes?"

She shook her head, and Hoster squeezed her hand.

"Sansa, dear, I used to get that look when I thought of your mother. I know the realm speculates as to why I've allowed you to remain unmarried, but you were her light, Sansa, after she lost two babes. I promised her I'd never force you. Now someone has caught your eye."

Hoster had married Minisa when they were in their early twenties and by all reports, it had been a love match, just like Tywin and Joanna.

She sighed, knowing she had to say something. And really, what did she have to lose?

"It's Lord Tywin," she muttered and felt the blush stain her cheeks.

Her father's eyes went wide before a look of pity came over them.

"Ahhh, that one is lost to you. That man will never take another wife."

"But maybe now, with the rebellion, father…."

"Stop, Sansa. I have indulged you, yes. I love you daughter. But you must marry."

When she went to protest, he held up his hand.

"I will give you until after the rebellion. Maybe if we win, there will be an opportunity there, to wed Lord Baratheon. I believe he means to take the throne, Sansa. You would be Queen."

The thought of being Robert Baratheon's queen made Sansa want to heave.

She knew she'd been given a reprieve, and now she had a bit of time to try to convince the one man in the realm that had never remarried to marry her. Or else she end up with a husband she honestly did not like. Or worse. Sansa knew there was plenty of worse in ancient Westeros.

She rose and pressed a kiss to Hoster's cheek.

"Rest, My Lord. We need you hearty and hale for the welcome feast."

He tugged at her hand. "I feel I've done you a great disservice Sansa, telling you how much I loved your mother. A marriage can be good, even without love."

To a modern woman, that thought was particularly horrifying. Sansa knew that Cat would grow to love Ned Stark, but she wanted nothing to do with that. She wanted to be in love with a man before she married him, not be forced because of some political alliance.

"I love you how much you loved mother, father," Sansa told him, thinking of her own parents. "We must trust that things will work out."

She saw his eyes flutter shut and took her leave, wondering how in the hell to convince Tywin to get off his ass and off his Rock and come for her.

Because Sansa would move heaven and earth to not end up in a miserable match and certainly not to a man like Robert Baratheon.

It would be a cold day in hell before she agreed to a marriage like that, even back here. Sansa meant to have the man she wanted, and nothing would stop her; not even her well-intentioned father.

Casterly Rock – Tywin

As promised, the moment that Tywin knew where Sansa was, and more importantly, that she was in his time, he'd left Casterly Rock to go and get her.

With him, Tygett and Kevan and twenty loyal men. They'd ride hard and fast to Riverrun, trading horses along the way and travelling light. If he pushed them hard, they could be there in eight or nine days.

Tywin did not mean to miss his opportunity to secure a marriage with her.

With two unmarried noblemen also travelling to Riverrun for the wedding of Catelyn Tully and Eddard Stark, Tywin knew that Hoster would be looking to make more advantageous matches for his daughter. The Riverlord seemed to think himself some type of expert matchmaker, and Tywin knew the man would be angling to get Sansa wed.

He'd be damned if Sansa ended up betrothed to Robert Baratheon.

Before leaving the Rock, Tywin had summoned Gregor Clegane to his study. The same age as the twins, the man was nicknamed the Mountain for obvious reasons, given that he was huge. He was an imposing presence, and already there were disturbing rumours of his rage circling.

Tywin meant to look into those; anyone could be a tool, but he wouldn't have a weapon on his hands he couldn't control.

For now, though, Gregor would do. He was loyal to Tywin and was now put in charge of guarding Cersei.

"She is not to leave her rooms for any reason. Only a select few loyal servants can enter. No one, not even my family or her cousins, is to be given access to her. Do I make myself clear?"

Tywin did not trust his daughter in the least, and nothing would move the Mountain from her door.

Gregor had grunted and nodded and then stomped off to take up his vigil. Tywin did not miss the looks of fear and loathing as the man made his way through the hallways of the Rock.

Tywin next spoke with Gerion and Genna, informing them that Gregor was now standing guard over Cersei. Since both of them were still angry with her and her role in Tyrion's death, they barely reacted, promising they'd stay away from her.

With that done, Tywin gathered twenty loyal men, one of them being Gregor's younger brother, Sandor.

Sandor was a few years younger than his brother and almost as big as him. He wore a constant scowl on his face. Tywin knew it had to do with the horrible scar that took up half his face, and he'd made no friends since he'd been brought to the Rock to squire under Tywin's master at arms. But he was a brilliant fighter and had such potential. And he was loyal to a fault.

They were three days into their journey when Tygett and Kevan finally cornered him inside his tent.

"Tywin, tell us what has us riding for Riverrun as if the very Stranger himself chased us?" Kevan said, exasperation lacing his tone.

Tywin's jaw tightened as his fist clenched. He could not, would not say anything, not yet. He was so close to her, yet disaster could strike if his timing weren't perfect.

He and Hoster Tully needed to make their regions stronger, especially against the Greyjoy threat that loomed along their shared coastline.

Tywin knew that the Riverlands lord would welcome a match between him and Sansa; it would bind their houses together for the foreseeable future and give that fish another kingdom in his sphere of influence. Tywin would use whatever necessary to make Sansa his wife – even Hoster's delight in making excellent matches for his children.

As he travelled, Tywin thought about her always, wondering how she might be adjusting. From what he'd seen, her life in the future was vastly different than the world in which he lived. She was vulnerable, and the thought of another woman that Tywin Lannister – cared for– being in harm's way, ate at him. It pushed him to ride harder and faster than he ever had before.

"Fine, don't tell us," Tygett snarled and stormed from the tent.

Kevan cocked his head and looked at his eldest brother for a time.

"Whatever it is, I am by your side, always, Tywin. Know that."

Rarely a man moved to display any emotion, Tywin gave a short nod.

"Thank you."

"Best get some sleep; the worst is in front of us. We pass through the Golden Tooth tomorrow and into hostile territory."

Tywin acknowledged his brother's words, even as he knew he would not sleep. He was consumed by thoughts of her as if a thread was pulling him towards her, and he would not rest until he saw the walls of Riverrun and had Sansa by his side.

Riverrun –Sansa

Having her father and uncle home, along with their loyal knights and guards, had relieved some of the pressure from Sansa's shoulders. She knew that the entire keep wasn't dependent upon only her, with the others now here. Still, the days were incredibly long as she learned how to prepare for an ancient feast.

It was nothing like Christmas dinner with her dad and uncle.

The sheer amount of food staggered her; barrels of wine and ale, multiple animals that had been butchered, endless loaves of bread that had been baked, more vegetables that Sansa had ever seen, even in a supermarket, along with the signature Tully dish – trout.

Never a massive fan of fish, Sansa was fascinated at learning all the different ways it could and would be prepared for the feast. She was probably causing a scene, spending far too much time in the kitchens, asking a million questions, but as she was coming to learn, she was loved here. Seriously, wholeheartedly loved everywhere she went in Riverrun.

The castle staff doted on her eccentric ways, laughingly answering her questions or helping her when she got lost. Why the gods, or whatever magic brought her back here, didn't think to give her a map in her head was beyond her. She often wished she had one of those maps from Harry Potter that showed where everyone was! And which hallway to take. That would have been most useful. Instead, it was trial and lots of error for her.

When word came that the men had been spotted, Sansa stood by her family to welcome rebel heroes as they were being called into the yard. She'd worn a blue gown with, you guessed it, a silver Tully fish. She thought her dad would get a kick out of how much this house loved fish! Thinking of her dad made her sad, and she felt Cat's elbow dig into her side.

"Smile," her sister hissed at her as the men arrived in their yard.

First through was Robert Baratheon, whom Sansa had to admit, looked nothing like his pictures from when he was king. Here he was tall, muscular and dark-haired and her same age.

His gaze lingered over her, and she couldn't help but feel that there was a warmth missing from the man. He appeared to be cataloguing everyone and everything and knowing what she did about him, and she felt decidedly uncomfortable in his presence.

Next was Jon Arryn, a handsome older man. Hoster had told Sansa that she was right about Lysa staying at Riverrun for a time, with Edmure and Brynden. He also promised that he would not broker a marriage between either man and Sansa at this time. Sansa knew the realm would thank her later for these small but critical victories.

When Sansa looked at the next man, she swayed.

It was her father!

Only – not.

This man had an aloofness to him that her father never had and was much younger than her father.

His hair wasn't greying, and his eyes didn't crinkle with joy when he saw her. There was a hardness to him, that her father had never, ever had, and Sansa knew it came from the time in which he lived.

He was distant, but polite, as they were introduced, and Sansa remembered that he too had lost half his family. His father and brother to the Mad King and his sister 'kidnapped.' He had to be reeling.

Sansa dropped into a perfect curtsy, one that she'd spent hours practicing, and dipped her head.

"I am sorry for the loss of your father and brother, My Lord."

She saw Lord Stark startle, and then he gave her a tiny smile.

"Thank you, Lady Sansa. That is most kind of you."

Then he was greeting her sister, and Sansa wondered how two people that didn't even know each other could get married. They were stiff and formal with one another, and it just all seemed like such madness! But both Catelyn and Ned would do their duty. They were, after all, products of their time. They were of marriageable age, twenty-one, and this was important to the alliance. There was no way Catelyn would defy their father and say no to Ned Stark.

Before Sansa knew it, they were all in the Great Hall, the feast about to commence. Her father had recovered sufficiently, to take his place at the head of the hall, while Sansa sat at a table with her siblings, across from Lords Stark, Arryn, and Baratheon. The tables had been arranged so that there was an open section in the middle of the Hall, and both Cat and Lysa said that if the mood was right, there might be dancing later.

The historian in her was trying to catalogue everything as best she could, itching to race back to her chambers (oh god, she said chambers in her mind and not rooms! Look at her adapting! Go brain!), and write everything down, but she knew that she needed to stay for the feast.

Her father had been sending not-so-subtle looks between her and Robert Baratheon, and Sansa knew he wouldn't wait long to find her a match.

When Hoster's speech was done, welcoming everyone to Riverrun and praising the rebellion, he turned to take his seat when his steward hurried in, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

Hoster frowned, and a funny hum went through Sansa. Something was happening – something unplanned. Wayn hurried away to do her father's bidding.

Lord Tully cleared his throat and turned to those assembled in the Great Hall.

"We have an unexpected visitor."

There were murmurs in the hall, and rampant speculation about who was there. Sansa knew that one did not just 'ride up' to a castle and knock on the front … drawbridge. Especially not in times of war.

"Lord Tywin Lannister has arrived at Riverrun to discuss the rebellion and says he brings new from the capital."

Hoster's eyes settled on Sansa's, and something heated inside her. Her father's eyes were almost sparkling in glee.

"He also brings news that he wishes to discuss terms for his marriage to my daughter, Lady Sansa."

Shocked gasps rang throughout the hall, as pandemonium broke out.

"SILENCE!" someone yelled as the doors to the Great Hall were flung open, and there he stood.

Tywin Lannister in the flesh. It was clear he'd ridden hard and fast to get here, and even in his golden and red armour, he looked just like the man in her dreams.

Sansa's breath caught and her legs rose on their own accord.

Then she was around the table, walking towards him, uncaring that all eyes in the hall were upon them.

His green-gold eyes found her, and she swore she saw his shoulders sag in relief. Then he too was striding down the middle of the hall of Riverrun, until he was standing before her. They said nothing as they gazed at one another.

Sansa bit back a grin, knowing precisely the reputation this man had, and yet, giddy with delight that he was here.

Then the light caught his sigil ring, and she gasped! It was her ring!

There was the tiniest of chuckles, so low and so brief that no one but her could have heard it.

"So you recognize it then?"

Sansa's eyes went wide as she met his penetrating gaze. It was then that all the pieces clicked into place. She swallowed hard.

"They weren't dreams, were they, My Lord?"

"No, Lady Sansa, they weren't."

"Oh."

Her mind raced with possibilities. Then she realized how rude she'd been and dipped into another perfect curtsey. When she rose, there was a slight upturn to Tywin's lips as he leaned closer - closer than was proper for this time.

It was thrilling to have this mighty man that she had dreamed of so very close to her!

"You will have to explain to me, Sansa, how a woman from the future has managed to survive a fortnight in the past, and all without incident."

Sansa grinned and then laughed.

"I would love to."

Tywin's eyes changed then, going darker.

"I am sorry for the loss of your father, Sansa."

Her eyes teared. She had been so alone in her grief, unable to show it here. And now to be offered comfort? It almost broke her.

"How did you know?"

Tywin raised his hand as if to touch her, and then ruthlessly pulled it back. Sansa knew he'd be breaking a million rules of decorum for the time if he were to touch her. Already they were surely causing a scandal.

"We have much to discuss, Sansa. But I am sure you are aware of how precarious your position is."

She nodded.

"Please tell me I have not made an utter fool of myself, by overstepping and demanding your hand."

She knew she was grinning as she shook her head.

"You did not, Tywin."

"Good."

Their eyes held, and there was something so profound there that Sansa thought she might get lost in them. She knew this man, and she knew the pain he had gone through. And now he was here, and if she was right, he knew her as well.

Then he stepped around her, forcing her to turn, so they faced her father together. A father that was smirking at the two of them.

Hoster raised his goblet and spoke, sealing their fate.

"Both a welcome feast and a celebration of a betrothal!"

There was a cheer in the hall, and while Sansa was focused on Tywin, she missed the look of outrage on the face of her sisters. Sansa had once again upstaged them both.

Together, they approached her father as now it was proper for Tywin to tuck his arm into hers.

Her father wagged a finger at Tywin.

"Don't think we don't have things to discuss, lion."

Tywin snorted. "Believe me, trout, we do."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

Then the Great Lion of Casterly Rock, the Warden of the West, the man that everyone said would never marry again, escorted Lady Sansa Tully to her seat, brushing a hand along her brilliant red hair, and taking the now empty seat beside her.

Sansa beamed at him, wondering if she were the biggest idiot in Westeros to tie herself to such a man, but knowing she had no other choice. Not that she wanted one. If there was one man she trusted back in this time, it was Tywin.

Her lion.

She didn't miss the looks they received, from her sisters, some from the lords from the Riverlands who'd perhaps hoped to win her hand, and from Robert Baratheon himself. The Stormlord did not appear happy with the sudden appearance of Tywin, nor their quick engagement.

Betrothal, whatever, Sansa thought. Tough shit. The man wasn't exactly husband of the year material. Not like Tywin.

Tywin had come for her and had publicly declared his intentions for them.

More importantly, Tywin knew she was not from this time. She didn't have to keep secrets from him. It was such a relief, she felt almost giddy with joy.

Suddenly a future that seemed very uncertain and quite frankly, a little bit scary, just seemed exciting again. She might not agree with so many things at this time, but she knew that she was safest as Tywin's wife. And it meant she got to see the Rock and for as long as she was back here, study a man she had been obsessed with, up close and personal.

For a brief moment, he rested his hand on hers, then withdrew it. She looked at him, and he leaned closer.

"I am here, Sansa. And I am not leaving Riverrun without you by my side, as my wife."

It was the perfect thing to say, for she smiled brilliantly back at him.

"And I, for one, cannot wait to see Casterly Rock. And this time, not as a ruin."

His eyebrows arched, and Sansa swore she saw the delight in his eyes, and she knew that whatever Tywin thought she might be, she was going to rock his world – in the best possible way.

Westeros had never seen a woman like her and they had no idea the changes that she might enact. With Tywin by her side, Sansa knew anything and everything was possible.