Regret is a useless currency part 3

                                    

                                          
The red-headed girl, battered and bruised, crawled through the snow on her own two feet. The soldiers pursuing her believed she had perished from the fall, but she clung to life, driven by an unyielding will. Her desperate journey led her to an abandoned hut, its timeworn walls offering a fragile sanctuary.
Inside, she discovered a meager existence a refuge from the biting cold. The girl’s trembling hands found a basin of water, and she gently cleansed her wounds. As she raised her face to the dim light filtering through the frost-covered window, she glimpsed her reflection in a cracked mirror. What she saw defied reason: youth had returned to her features, erasing the lines etched by time.
Confusion swirled within her. How could this be? She had witnessed the horrors of a merciless plague, felt the blade pierce her heart as her countrymen betrayed her. Yet here she stood, rejuvenated, as if the past had unraveled itself.
Her mind raced, seeking answers. Had she traveled back in time? If so, why didn't Brienne save  her this time?  The threads of fate were tangled, and choices had been made, and the path that was once taken has been erased. The girl didn't know something was wrong, but for what she didn't know . She needed to go to the wall.
The red-haired girl stood amidst the snow, her breath visible in the frigid air. The journey had been arduous, the path winding through treacherous terrain. The wall lay ahead, a refuge in this desolate landscape.
Her fingers trembled as she tended to her wounds, wrapping them tightly with strips of cloth. The cold had numbed her skin, but determination fueled her steps. She had returned to the past, drawn by memories and a sense of duty she couldn’t fully comprehend.
“Where is the lord commander?” she asked, her voice echoing against the snow-covered peaks. Castle black was eerily quiet, the only sound the wind whispering through the pines. Her brother’s friend, weathered and battle-worn, met her gaze.
“He left,” he said, his eyes holding a mixture of pity and resignation. “Long ago.” Edd explain what has happened and why he left. The girl mind was racing as this didn't happen before either. Something has changed.
He handed her a crumpled letter, its ink faded, but the words etched into her heart. She unfolded it, her eyes tracing each line.
"Dear Sansa,
If you are reading this, then you have found your way here. This is no longer my fight, and you are not my problem. If you remember, then you know why I am saying this. If not, you are smart enough to figure it out how to survive on your own.
Goodbye."
Sansa clutched the letter, the weight of its finality settling upon her. Her brother’s absence was a bitter truth, a rift that stretched beyond the mountains and into her soul. She had returned seeking answers, but now she understood some battles were meant to be fought alone.

Sansa read  Jon letter and realized she was not the only one the gods had chosen to send to the past. Overwhelmed, she began to cry hysterically. “I am reaping what I sow,” she thought bitterly, but then an unexpected wave of laughter overtook her. Jon friend stared at her, clearly confused. “Are you okay, my lady?” he asked. “Yes, I am fine,” she replied, her laughter still bubbling up. “It seems I am in hell. I am leaving, and if you are smart, you will leave too. The north and westeroes are not worth protecting.” Jon friend looked at her and said, “Your brother said the same thing before he left.” Lia sighed, her laughter fading. “Well, what do you know? It looks like we can agree on some things,” she said sadly. 

Sansa disguised as a boy, crouched in the boat heading east. The rhythmic slap of waves against the hull echoed her racing thoughts. The salty air clung to her skin, a reminder of her past and the choices that had led her here. She laughed humorless she used to make fun of her little sister for wearing men clothes. The irony here is laughable.
Why now? She wondered bitterly. Why did the gods choose this moment to intervene? Not at the beginning, when her family still laughed together before the serpent’s deceit had torn them apart. No, they waited until she was alone, adrift, and burdened with guilt.
The snake, the silver-tongued deceiver, had promised answers. She had believed its honeyed words, and now her family was gone. Each time she spoke, the tragedy followed. 
As the boat rocked, she traced the scars on her palms and her body the price she paid for trusting the serpent. The gods were fickle, their motives inscrutable. Perhaps they reveled in her suffering that why they send her here in this moment in time.
Her remaining family members either lost or turned their backs on her, not that she blamed them. Their love replaced by fear and resentment. She was an outcast, a vessel of misfortune. 
And so, Sansa sailed toward the horizon, seeking answers in the unknown. The wind whispered promises, and she clung to hope like a sailor to a tattered sail. Perhaps redemption awaited her beyond the waves, or perhaps she would become a legend a cautionary tale of trust and betrayal. Daenerys hasn't sailed to westeroes yet, so if she may even see her favor, she can use it to her advantage. She thought a plan forming in her head.

Oh sweet Sansa, if only you knew how much her consort wanted to skin you alive and put her head on spike.



In the quiet corner of the boat, she vowed to fine her family.     even if it meant challenging the gods.

 Beyond the wall.

In the last time line. Daenerys dragon was used to bring now the wall. Now is a horn made of magic the night blew on it and with it the wall that was protecting man came marching down. And since westeroes and the north taught they save the realm themselves, they can fight to protect it.