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The Wolf Queen Part 1/? (Sansa Stark x female reader)

As the new Lady of Bear island you are called to the coronation of the new Queen in the North. After a harsh winter that seemed to take all hope of future happiness away from you, a certain red headed beauty’s kind heart rekindles a flame in your heart brighter than ever before. This is just you meeting Sansa and the two of you becoming acquainted. Things will definitely heat up as the story progresses and I’ll let y’all know when the next part will be up real soon :)

House Whitewater had lived on Bear Island under the banner of the Mormonts for thousands of years. Between the War of the Five Kings and the Great War, there had been too many loses across the island for you to handle. Personally, your brothers had been taken from you when they went off with Robb Stark and then your mother, the matriarch of your family since your father died when you were two, had been lost to the army of the dead. Soon after you saw her engulfed by a wall of wights as she pushed you to safety, you learned of the loss of your fierce lady: Lady Lyanna Mormont. She had been your lady but more importantly your dear cousin, since your mother was born a Mormont. After you had lost her, you struggled to find a reason to continue living.

However, with what was left of the Bear Island population, you were technically next in line to take over for House Mormont and you were encouraged to take the name due to the special circumstances. So at the tender age of 17, you were called to attend the coronation of Sansa Stark, Queen in the North, as the Lady of Bear Island.

“The Queen in the North! The Queen in the North!” the people chanted as the eldest Stark girl, clad in a gown of such delicate details you could not help but gasp at, took her family seat. Grey was a simple color but you thought it had never looked more regal on someone else than it did her. Sansa Stark was, indeed, truly beautiful as everyone else had said. She had a stoic look on her face that was very fitting for the plain Stark colors, but her fiery red hair seemed to compliment it in a way you had never thought was possible. But of course that was just an objective observation, wasn’t it? Yet for some reason her presence seemed to take away your ability to concentrate; your breath was simply taken away.

Faithful to most northern celebrations, the coronation ceremony was followed by a large feast also filled with spirited music and dance; members from houses all across the North filled Winterfell’s great hall with their jolly, drunk sounds of laughter and cheer. That, however, made it quite difficult to talk to anyone else further than a foot away from you. Seated at the end of a long table, you quietly picked at your own food half-expecting to be doing so until the night was over when a young boy tapped on your shoulder.

“My Lady, the Queen would like to speak with you.”

“With me?” you were surprised that she would call upon you; not only because Bear Island was such a small part of the vast North, but also because you had occupied the position of Lady of Bear Island for less than three days time and frankly felt under qualified. 

“Yes, you are the new Lady Mormont, are you not?” Lady Mormont. How strange that sounded. Sure, a few times in your life you had thought of how your mother might have turned out to be the one with that title had she not married your father, but never had you ever guessed that it would be used to reference yourself. It felt wrong thinking of yourself as such; you felt like you were pretending to be some type of character as you caught a deep gulp in your throat and slowly nodded at the question. 

As you were escorted to the front of the table and the center of the hall where the Queen sat watching over the entire feast, you tried to recall everything your mother had taught you about being a highborn lady. Technically, you were one by birth but living in isolation on an island where the only other highborn house was more like your extended family, formalities hadn’t been stressed too much between you and the Mormonts. You feared you would have no idea how to correctly behave in front of Sansa Stark.

“Your grace,” you offer before bowing at her seat, never taking your eyes off of the floor. Just at one up close glance, you could feel the breath in your lungs hitch itself almost like you had a hiccup and you nervously pleaded that you would not lose your voice. She was extremely tall, even sitting down, but her arms were placed neatly in her lap as she wore a small but pleasant smile on her face. She didn’t seem to try and be intimidating in any sense, yet somehow her raw beauty still managed to have you shaking.

“Lady Mormont, please, it is my pleasure to have you here,” she beckoned the servant to pull out the chair next to her. “Please, sit,” you eyed the chair a bit unsure of what to do but carefully took the seat to her right, trying to remember to smooth out the back of your dress before you did. 

“Lady Mormont,” there was that word again you said to yourself. “I’m afraid the name doesn’t truly fit me. There has never been a Lady of Bear Island declared such from a lower house before.”

“There’s never been a Queen in the North before either,” the Stark girl offered catching on to your feelings of uneasiness. “And yet, here we are.”

“Yes,” you sigh in agreement. “But not without cost.”

“No,” she nodded. “Not without cost.” Similar to yours, the Stark family had been hunted down over the last few years on top of their ancestral home being taken by multiple enemies. Having lost all of your family left you existing in a perpetual state of guilt. Why were you the only one spared after all? In what way did you deserve to live anymore than your mother, brothers, or cousin? Those questions rang in your head every single waking moment and you wondered if Sansa felt the same way.

“It’s funny how when you’re a kid you think you know what you want in life; you think you know what loss is... but none of that matters to the rest of the world.”

Lady Stark looks at you quizzically, considering your words with intent before filling your goblet with some more wine herself. Her smile is a soft, yet solemn one. She gives it to you as if to convey that she understands what you mean and feels a mutual sadness. “No, it doesn't... So then why do you carry on?”

You sit confused for a second at the question. She doesn't call you Lady Mormont this time and you don't think it was just coincidental. No, now she’s speaking to you not as a Queen would speak to one of their banner men, but like how a young woman scarred by tragedy and misfortune would speak to another survivor. You bite your bottom lip, a bad habit of yours, before answering, “To honor them, your Grace. Just because I am alone it doesn’t give me an excuse to be selfish; so I try to carry out their duties, or, at least some of them and what I can take on. So that way, they aren’t completely gone.”

“Sansa.”

“What?” you ask confused.

“You may call me Sansa,” she gives you a warmer smile this time and you feel yourself smiling back at her. You can’t help but think you’ve just passed some sort of test the Starks give to test others’ loyalty and hope this means your relationship with the Queen is at least off to a pleasant start. For too long, conflict between leaders and their people had caused bloodshed across the continent and peace seemed unattainable. But now, you had a truly devoted, just, yet sharp-minded ruler of the independent North that you were certain would lead you all to prosperity.

“Alright, Sansa. Then I must insist you call me Y/N.”

“I would be glad to,” she holds up her goblet and you lightly touch your own to hers in the air.

“To winter,” you improvise, first thinking about the Starks’s infamous house words. “And the darkness and cold we must first face to be greeted by spring.”

“To winter,” she stares into your eyes, but not invasively. Like a bewildered baby animal seeing the world for the first time, you’re completely helpless under her sight and you quickly bring the goblet up to your mouth and drink in an attempt to hide your flushed cheeks. You feel is if she could ask you anything right now and you’d be defenseless against the truth spilling from your mouth. It put you in a pretty uncomfortable position considering that feelings for her that you didn’t even understand were growing inside of you.

After a moment you realize you’ve been staring at her with a blank expression for a bit too long so you try to change the subject. “Your dress is very exquisite. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this detailed of a pattern before though,” you point to the intricate leaf shapes all across her gown. 

A somber smile struck her face again. “Thank you, the fabric belonged to a friend of mine back in King’s Landing.”

“You made friends in King’s Landing?” you asked genuinely surprised. She seemed to sound serious but you had heard enough stories from the south to know that Northerners generally don’t do well in the capital. 

“Just one. Her name was Margaery Tyrell.”

“Oh,” a lump formed in your throat. The former Queen and the Rose of Highgarden had supposedly been so beautiful that she could melt any Northerner’s cold frozen heart. You’d heard tales of her beauty and didn’t doubt that they were wrong, but aside from her charm and grace the only thing you knew about her was her unfortunate fate. “Then I am so sorry for your loss, Sansa. Truly.”

“Thank you, Y/N. But she did teach me a lot and was kind to me when I had nobody else. She gave me hope when I needed it the most.” You nodded in agreement at her statement. In your darkest hours, had it not been for the small gleam of hope you held onto you might have been entirely consumed by death. Just imagining the emotional downfall Sansa must have experienced in King’s Landing while she was completely surrounded by the enemy with no hope of seeing her family again made you nauseous with the familiar feeling of despair. In her expression you could see tiny glimpses of what she had been through and it struck a chord in your own memories too. 

“Well, then I am very grateful for her,” and you meant it in more than one way. Sansa was your new queen, of course, and your sense of duty held you to your new position as Lady of Bear Island, but you had also struggled with trying to find a reason to live since those closest to you had died. You had found that being a leader when it is expected of you is entirely different than being loved and valued for who you simply are as a person. Sansa was the first person to reach out and get to know the real you: The girl you were afraid was long gone or a thing of the past. It felt invigorating just speaking to her as if the two of you were just friends; little did you know, but the hardened Stark girl felt the same way and imagined different circumstance where the two of you could have easily grown up as best friends giggling with one another over boys and playing dress up. 

“I’d like for us to be friends,” Sansa’s statement took you by surprise and you froze, even though your body was actually hot and warmth filled your chest as your heart sped up. “Would you walk with me?” she pushed herself up from the table and looked at you inquisitively while you tried to find the words to express yourself without completely giving away the fact that you were more flustered than you’d ever been before.

“Of course! I would be delighted. I was hoping to leave before the new Lord Umber gets too drunk anyway. He can be very handsy after a few glasses of wine,” you joke which makes her laugh for the first time in a long time. It’s so gentle and it lights up her face so marvelously that you can’t help but think it is the most beautiful thing in the entire North and you hope to make her laugh again. No, it was not your new Queen that had captivated you. It was simply a girl named Sansa Stark. 

Dear Ivy

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed to be the mom I know you always wanted. Truth is my dear, I’m not even sure I could’ve given you all that you deserved if I had stayed. You would’ve heard things about me and your father, horrible things. Things that you were and are still too young to understand. You would’ve heard that I was a liar, a manipulator and the worse of all: a killer. You see, from the very first years of my life, I was always described as very courageous and strong. I stood up for weaker people and wasn’t scared of defying authority if something did not feel right to me. It got me into quite the trouble when I was your age, but as I grew, I learned how to use it for good reasons and become a leader, a listener .. someone who would fight for the people she cared about and made sure everyone was okay and happy before I thought about myself. It led me to meet friends I still have today, although some of them decided to turn their backs on me shortly before you were born. The ones the stayed though are very present in your life, you aunt who is raising you is one of them. Wanting to see only the good in people also got me to one of the lowest points in my life, the time I’m about to tell you about .. is about your father.

First of all, I want ask of you that you do not get mad at anyone in your life for not telling your about your father this far in your life. They were only doing as I asked of them for your own protection because you did not deserve to grow up in shame or fear or what others would say or think if they knew what your father’s name was. His name is not on your birth certificate for a very clear reason: He did not want to be your father. Before I elaborate on that though, let me tell you a bit of background on him and I. We met when I was still a young twenty-one years old in college. I was finishing up my degree in teaching while wrestling on week-ends as a side-line job. At the time, I didn’t think I would make it this far with my wrestling career and I had always been told that having a backup plan was the best way to live a ‘secure’ life. When I look back on those times, I told myself that maybe I should’ve been crazy and not have listened to my parents about college. If I had gone straight into wrestling, sure I would’ve lived like a dog for a while .. a year , maybe two, but then I would’ve been okay. Instead, I went to college, got a backup plan .. but I also met him. Meeting him is a gentle way of saying that he got obsessed about me and found a way to gain my trust in a way that made me blind to his ‘’ other ‘’ side. We began dating only a few months after we met, my naïve self not noticing how jealous and paranoied he acted at first. Being my trusting self, when my friends started telling about the things they noticed, I didn’t believe them. I couldn’t help but keep their observations in the back of my head and pay more attention to the way he acted around him. The sadness I felt when I realised that my friends were right is something I only a few times in my life: at that moment, when I realised I wouldn’t be able to change him and finally, when I realise that the knife I had grabbed out of panic had entered his body.

Yes, you read right. Let’s back up a little though. I want make sure I explain everything before you finish reading this letter. I spend three years with him. Out of those three years, the first six months were spend like a normal couple, nothing major really happening. Of course we had the occasional couple fight about some of the others frequentations and such, but nothing big. Things turned a sudden turn one night when he had a lot to drink. It was at one of those parties that often happen in college. I wasn’t the biggest party girl, but your dad loved them, so I went with him from time to time to please him. That night though, I quickly started wishing I had stayed back in my dorm and had spend the night watching Netflix or playing some video games. But no, I went with him and that night changed my life .. and not for the best. I mostly stayed in my corner, making the occasional small talk but mostly listening to some music on the roof of the frat house we were at with the two people I actually knew. It was about one in the morning when I grew tired of the noise and went to ask him if we could go back to one of our dorms. I still remember the way he yelled at me and yanked my hand away from his shoulder but mostly, when I close my eyes, I still see the look he gave me when he turned towards me. Dark, cold. I got my first glance at the monster that night. The first of many. He made it clear to me that we were not leaving until he said so and when I protested, life hit me right in the face, literally. He slapped me right there in front of his friends. The silence that fell over the room felt like a cold shower, but nothing felt as bad as the sting on my face and the way the tears burned my skin as they fell down my face. That night was the start of three years of hell for me. Yell, insult, slap, punch, kick, choke and others horrible things are written on the list of horrible things you father made me endure.

Now you’re probably asking yourself ‘’ Why didn’t she just leave ? ‘’ And I have to give it to you baby, I probably should’ve just left. But remember how I only saw the best in people ? Yeah. I made that mistake with your dad too. With every attack, verbal or physical, I told myself that it was because of something I did wrong, that I triggered him. I started telling myself that I was what was wrong in the relationship, because I was scared of what he would do to me. Gradually, the strong, unstoppable girl became a weak scared little thing. He had won over me because I couldn’t admit to myself that he wasn’t gonna change. I did everything to hide what was really going on from everyone, spending hours coverings the marks with make-up and practicing my fake smile and happy, reassuring robot voice. I became a walking broadway show, just so nobody would discover what was going on and make things worst for me. I knew that if someone caught on, he would get even more angry and I would be the one paying for it. It took two trips to the hospital, and almost dying on the second one for me to realise that I wasn’t what was wrong .. it was not too long after that second trip that I discovered the one thing that would change my life .. You.

The second I found out I was pregnant with you, It was like the storm that had been my life calmed down for a few seconds, just enough time for me to know that I had to get out of there for my safety, but most importantly, yours. I don’t know why though, I still decided to tell him, in one last attempt at making him see the light. Oh how wrong was I. When the words left my mouth, he saw red. I somehow escaped him and ran out of the apartment, only coming back after I made sure he fell asleep. When I woke up that next morning, I found a piece of paper with a number on it and a simple sentence written near the phone number. ‘’ take a appointment and get rid of it. Today. ‘’ The number was from a abortion clinic. There was no way I was gonna get rid of you, my light. I had only be carrying you for a few months and already I loved you so much .. That’s why I decided to go get help. It was time. It took me everything I had to walk into that police station and even more to ask to meet with a detective to formally press charges against him. To my biggest surprise, the detective didn’t seem to believe me. Has he asked his questions, I could see him look over me, probably looking for marks or something that would give him ‘’ proof ‘’ but your dad hadn’t been able to touch me in a while since I did everything I could to escape him. When the detective told me that without marks or something that could incriminate him, there was nothing he could really do, I felt like my world was falling around me all over again. All those people that encouraged victims to speak out and seek help .. all of that was and is still bullshit.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learn in life is that sometimes, you’re the only person that can settle your own problem. After that fiasco at the police station, I almost gave up .. that’s when you decided to make your presence felt. That first kick I ever felt from you was enough for me to decide that I was gonna get out of there, no matter what the cost was, as long as you and me were okay. The time to act came only a few nights after I went to the police station because your father came back home drunk from one of guys nights and almost immediately cornered me in the kitchen. ‘’ I know you didn’t get rid of it like I ordered you .. I can see the food disappearing quicker and you becoming fatter every day you fat cow .. ‘’ It’s not exactly what he said, but I’ll save you the trouble of knowing. For some reason, I had a weird feeling. I knew that in this position, I couldn’t escape him if he decided to charge, which he did soon after he was done talking his nonsense about how I was making his life a living hell and how I couldn’t be a good mother even if I wanted too. When I saw him start moving, I knew I only had a second or two to react. If I’m being honest with you, I think I blacked out. One second he was charging me .. the other I was grabbing one of the knives on the butcher block and shoving it in front of me, hoping to scare him .. but the noise that came out of him, I never expected that one. It wasn’t until I felt the warm crimson colored liquid start pouring on my hands that I realised what had happened: He had impaled himself on my knife. I fell with him to the ground, letting go of the knife as his blood started covering my arms, neck and chest and in a ultimate effort, I pushed his body off mine before my head fell back against the kitchen cabinet.

That night is still blurry in my head .. but I know for sure that I did not kill him on purpose baby. It was self defense. I need you to know and understand that. I am not a liar or a murderer .. I’m just a girl who go lost and broken because she trusted too easily and only saw the good in everyone. I’m still very messed up today baby .. I can’t trust anyone, I think everyone wants to hurt me .. I drink .. a lot more than I should. I think the only thing I haven’t touched is drugs and I’m never gonna touch that because even though I went through hell, I don’t want to forget about any of it. I want to feel every ounce of pain, cry every time I wake up from a nightmare and shiver every time my eyes gaze over a scar I wasn’t able to cover up with a tattoo .. but mot importantly, I want to remember the reason why I’m still breathing today .. You. I want to fight for you and be a better mother to you. I promise baby. It might not be a one day thing, but one day, I will be a good enough mother for you. One day we will have a normal life.

 I love you Ivy.

- Mom.