It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly. And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

Sansa burns Winterfell as the Night King approaches. Somehow, her story continues.

Just when Konan has lost hope, she meets a hero.

“Thank you, A-Ning,” she ran her fingers through his hair and felt her heart tighten as he gave her a bright smile. What wouldn’t she give for his smile to never disappear? What wouldn’t she bear for his eyes to retain their color? What wouldn’t she do for his heart to keep beating? Wen Qing dies, Wen Qing lives. A second chance to make things right.

What would Game of Thrones have been like with a strong, empowered Sansa?

There’s a hollow thud, a sound like a gong, a war-cry that makes Alpha-17 freeze in his tracks, and Priest goes flying back into the window.