Healing Influences

A/N: First of all, I wanted to say that this chapter was going to be a bit longer originally but my city is currently experiencing a LOT of riots, looting, arson, and electric blackouts in whole neighborhoods so, since I wanted to update before the electricity failed in my sector again for who knows how long, I ended up moving an unfinished scene to the next chapter. Hope you understand and like it anyway. If not, sorry but things are tense where I live right now.

Also, this chapter finally has my first attempt at face swapping one of the non-GoT actresses I used to cast book characters into more fitting, GoT/medieval clothing. Still not perfect but struggled a lot with it and it's my first mostly acceptable attempt so far so I hope you like it. For reference, it involves Sarella Sand.

Finally, I dedicate this chapter to LetteredElk for inspiring the finishing touches I needed to develop one of the main points of this chapter, through his comments. Thanks a lot!**
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Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

White Harbor: The North

Margaery Tyrell made her way to the enclosed glass gardens inside New Castle. There, she inhaled deeply, her muscles relaxing instantly at the warmer humidity in the air while she smiled faintly at the various plants all around her.

"Thank goodness there are some places in the North where we can escape the snow once winter comes," She thought to herself. "It's certainly never this cold in Highgarden."

She walked further down the path, enjoying the smells and the scenery until the Golden Rose saw who she had come there to find sitting down in front of a carefully laid out orchard: the natural daughter of the late Prince of Dorne and advisor to her new king, Sarella Sand; dressed in a short yet elegant dress of Dornish fashion, her long hair tied up in a bun.

From a distance, Margaery took a moment to examine the Dornish woman, biting her bottom lip slightly. She was definitely pretty and based on the few interactions she had observed between her and Jon, she could tell that they were most at ease with each other.

On the one hand, the Golden Rose knew that she shouldn't find it that surprising. The two of them must have bonded over their shared past and background as bastards from one of the Great Houses. And if she really was clever enough to fool the Maesters in order to study at length in the Citadel, then it makes even more sense for her King to consider her advice valuable, particularly on Dornish affairs at this early part of his rule.

Still, Margaery was increasingly convinced that Jon would be both a great king and a loving husband if they actually got married. So, when her grandmother suggested they invite Sarella Sand to learn more about her and what could she tell them about the king they had recently met, she winced but nodded, unable to find the will to argue against the Queen of Thorns' desire to subtly interrogate her with pleasant conversation.

Sighing softly, she got closer until the Dornish woman finally noticed her. Her eyes widened slightly before standing up and curtsying.

"My Lady," She said with a respectful tone. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Margaery held back a sigh, trying not to think about the fact that for all intents and purposes, she wasn't a queen anymore. That made her think about the part of the blame she had on poor Tommen's **** and she didn't want to risk the feelings of blame and grief overwhelming her in public again.

So, she **** herself to smile as pleasantly as she could. "I got a bit tired of the cold. I take it you did too if you decided to come here."

Sarella nodded at that, a sheepish smile on her own face. "After living in Dorne for much of my life, it definitely takes some getting used to. Not even during my time in Oldtown did it ever get this cold. Still, Lady Wynafryd told me that the lemons from the orchard they kept indoors within their glass garden were soon going to be good enough to eat. I was curious to see how well these Dornish fruits could grow over here, so she was gracious enough to let me take a look."

"And?" The widowed queen pressed.

She hesitated for a moment, then looked back at the lemon orchard. "Honestly?" She said slowly. "The smell reminds me a bit of the Water Gardens...and then thinking of home makes me sad."

Margaery winced a bit a that, chiding herself as she remember what she had heard about House Martell's apparent downfall. Then she looked around a bit more and sighed, as the expanse of plants and fruits sheltered from the snow reminded her a bit of her own childhood home of Highgarden.

Shaking her head, she **** herself back to the present.

"I hadn't had time to tell you before but for what it's worth...I am so sorry about your father," She told her, a sad look on her face. "I didn't talk with him much back in King's Landing but he was certainly a very interesting and passionate man. And while I wasn't exactly in a position where I could have openly supported him due to the...heated political climate at court during the trial, the Mountain had roamed free and unpunished for far too long already," She said with a slight shiver on her spine, thinking back on the horrific accusations of the **** and **** of Princess Elia Martell and her children; accusations the terrible man had admitted with glee as he killed the justice-seeking father of the woman in front of her. "So, I was actually hoping Clegane would be the one to die then, even if it would complicate things for our allies at court," Margaery added, trying not to flinch in shame as she remembered her grandmother's role in King Joffrey's **** and how she stood by to let Tyrion Lannister take the fall for a crime he didn't commit.

She swallowed hard and held back another sigh. "It's not enough, I know, and small comfort at this point but...I wanted to make that clear."

Sarella stared at her for a long moment, as if studying every muscle of her face to try and see if she was lying. Maybe she was. In the end, the prince's daughter sighed.

"Thank you, Lady Margaery," The Dornish woman ended up replying, a sad smile on her face. "I do appreciate that. May I ask what can I do for you?"

The former Tyrell queen nodded. "We heard you were departing to Winterfell soon so that you could be nearby when King Jon returns home. My grandmother and I were wondering if you would like to come in our carriage. We would appreciate the company and there are some things we were hoping to ask you."

Sarella Sand blinked rapidly, a brief look of surprise on her face. "Thank you for the invitation, my Lady. Of course, I will join you."

Margaery smiled back, genuinely pleased this time. "Good. We will depart in an hour. We also invited Bellegere Otherys, the envoy from Braavos to King Jon's court. Hopefully, we will have a more pleasant time together in the carriage than we would if we were riding horses all the way to Winterfell, I think."

Sarella smiled wider at her this time. "One can hope. Thank you again, my Lady. I will be ready when the time comes."

Nodding, Margaery Tyrell turned back and left to find her grandmother, hoping she would have received a raven from Ironrath by now with news of the battle; anxious to hear that Jon and Sansa were alright.

Ironrath: The North

Sansa sighed in contentment when she broke away from her beloved brother's embrace, her heart still fluttering from the deep kiss. So, she locked her gaze with him and smiled, confident that Jon could read the love she had for him on her face. He smiled back at her, liking the kind and peaceful look on his face much better than his usual brooding expressions.

And its warmth was enough to melt the winter cold from her bones.

"Thank you, Jon," She said softly. "I really needed that."

Her king looked at her with affection but before he could respond, Ramsay found his voice at last.

"You...hypocrite!" Ramsay yelled, his voice thick with undisguised anger for once. "All that time spent hating the Lannisters and that ill-born cunt, Joffrey, and now you are imitating that wretched, brotherfucking queen?! How dare you!" He screamed, gnashing his teeth.

Sansa only smirked at him, feeling fierce determination emanating from her eyes as she looked at her former tormentor's outraged face; realizing with great satisfaction that she had managed to shatter his mask of confidence and calmness for once.

"Seems like I have finally hit your pride where it hurts, Lord Bolton," Sansa chuckled. "That does please me, because it means you are finally realizing just how far it is that you have failed. You failed to break me. You failed to convince me to stand by your side. You failed to consolidate your control not just over the North, but over me. And now, you are realizing that through your horrific actions, you destroyed the smallest chance you may have had to get me to learn to love with you in time."

Sansa chuckled, feeling so merry and satisfied at getting the last word in that she felt lighter; as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "How does it feel, knowing that while you brought nothing but pain to my life, I found nothing but love and kindness in the arms of my beloved brother? What is really going on in your filthy, bloodstained mind right now, I wonder?"

"You stupid bitch!" He snarled from his restrained position. "Even if you kill me, you are making the same mistakes the Lannisters made that cost them so much! It's like you learned nothing from your stay in that city of vipers and liars!"

Then he turned had glared at Jon with nothing but venomous contempt.

"And you, bastard king, know that I had her first, do you hear me?! He roared, the veins on his face actually visible under the torchlight, such was his rage. "You can kill me but you can't undo that!"

At that, Sansa's smirk got wider than ever since she arrived at the cells and after a quick glance at Jon, she realized the same could be said for her beloved.

"Do you want to do the honors, or should I?" She asked, her eyes surely sparkling with anticipation.

Jon looked at her fondly but shook his head. "I wouldn't dare. This is your hard-fought moment, Sansa. However you want to proceed with this part, I will support you."

Her heart fluttered with affection once more as she stared at him before turning her gaze back to the furious lord of House Bolton.

"Yes, I can see why this would seem hypocritical to you, from where you are standing. But then, your understanding is faulty at best," The future queen declared. "Because while I certainly hated the Lannisters for many reasons, the **** between the queen and her brother was actually so low on that list it might as well be considered insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Believe me, I had a far better reason to despise them for all the terrible things they were willing to do to others, my family, and to me personally, without flinching. "

"And so long as we are being honest," Sansa continued, "I must admit that for all that I find abhorrent about Cersei Lannister, I understand the hated Queen Mother a little better now. If nothing else, she must have clearly felt better and safer in her twin's arms than in those of the whore-loving King Robert. So, now that I truly comprehend that the heart wants what the heart wants, you vile excuse for a husband, I can certainly see the appeal of love, kindness, and safety over that, even if it comes from ****. And as you can see, I want my brother very much," She confessed, her voice thick with emotion. "He is a far better man than you could have ever hoped to be and when the time is right, I will be beyond thrilled to be able to call him my husband in public."

Ramsay's breathing had gotten rapid and heavy enough to seethe from the chair. His visceral response leaking through the carefully constructed mask of confidence he liked to wear before his victims only made her more joyous with every breath.

"But here is the thing you don't know: Jon and I have something Cersei and Jamie Lannister lacked," Sansa went on, her tone firm. "Something very useful, versatile, and even morally sound that should help us overcome some of the leadership problems they faced on their own once their incestual union came to light."

"And what, pray tell, could that be?" Ramsay asked as he gritted his teeth.

Sansa couldn't help but laugh at his choice of words.

"I am so glad you put it like that," Sansa said with a long chuckle. "Because while I promised you a boon of knowledge, the very answer to that question is also why we will be able to ensure that you have no chance of doing anything to hurt us further with that information. But first, there is something you should know about the true origins of your House's practice of flaying."

Ramsay tried to spat at her but the offending liquid didn't even make it to her feet. She just snorted at his well-deserved impotence and interlocked her fingers.

"We learned many things that were most illuminating from the Old God that lies in the Weirwood tree of House Forrester as we prepared for the battle," The redheaded warg revealed. "But there was one particular detail that stood out to me: a revelation that he and a few other Old Gods had decided to punish House Bolton for some ancient transgression thousands of years ago by stripping them of their ability to skinchange into other beasts."

A flicker of surprise rushed through the former bastard's face at her words, and her lip curled upwards even further when she spotted dawning realization in it too.

"Yes, Ramsay, it is as you are dreading," She said with a victorious look that would make her direwolf proud, almost smelling his unease in the air. "Like you, I realized with that piece of insight where exactly it was that the origins of House Bolton's tradition of flaying their enemies come from. What your ancestors, later on, considered a matter of strength and pride is, at its origin, a matter of weakness, since, symbolically, it's also about the Boltons trying to half-ass a legitimate magical ability that they didn't actually have in their bloodline anymore and so, they probably felt a deep sense of shame about it, especially at first. And the fact that the Starks could still warg across the ages probably made them feel even more furious about it."

Ramsay was silent at that, biting his bottom lip so hard in his frustration that he draw even more blood. But silent he remained, choosing not to express his thoughts on her revelation. That was quite alright. She knew she had him right where she wanted anyway.

"So, it is with great satisfaction that I am about to tell you a critical piece regarding the boon of knowledge I promised you," She added, unable to hide the glee in her tone. "You are actually a skinchanger Ramsay. Or rather, you became one about a moon's turn ago and don't know it."

Ramsay blinked rapidly at that, his blood-soaked lip relieved from the pressure of his gnawing teeth from the sudden surprise. "What?"

Sansa chuckled once more, feeling lighter again. "You heard me. Do you want to know why I know that? Because I encouraged my brother to use his newfound powers to make it happen, specifically so that your mind could wander to the points of my life where I have grown so happy to be free of you this past month, safe and warm in my beloved's embrace. So that, when we finally had you captured, the depths of your failure would truly sink in once we brought it all back to the surface. And because I trust my honorable, loving brother with my life, my heart, and even my mind, I knew he wouldn't **** the permission I gave him to alter my memories on the matter," She proclaimed with conviction in every fiber of her being.

She took a deep breath for a moment, then calmed herself further.

"As such, I didn't have to be uncomfortable at the time by the knowledge that your eyes were on me when I was being pleasured by my one true king," The future queen continued, fondness in her tone as she thought of her betrothed. "But now that we have you right where we want you, my brother gave me back the memory of that initial plan. So, before you are executed for your crimes, Lord Bolton, I think it's only fitting for you to experience the same manner of discomfort you **** Theon to go through on our nightmarish wedding night. Fair is fair, isn't it?"

Then she took a deep breath to relish the moment of her triumph a moment longer. But then she was ready to continue with the next step on her path to closure.

"Jon, I think you can use your powers to make him remember everything now," She told him, a knowing look on her gaze. "Let him recall his time as a literal insect."

Ramsay had actually started to sweat at her last few statements but then, her beloved brother opened his mouth and supported her as promised.

"I, Jon Stark, the **** God, wish for Ramsay Bolton to recover his lost memories concerning the romantic relationship between my sister Sansa and me, and for him to understand that every revelation he will see is not a lie."

There was a moment of absolute silence for precisely 2 seconds but before Ramsay could break it by claiming that they had both lost their minds, he gasped for breath and his face became engulfed in an expression of utter shock.

A/N: Well..all of that happened XD Any particular questions?

Regardless, I hope you are all enjoying these cathartic moments for Sansa as I am certainly having a lot of fun writing them. More to come with that in the next chapter and then, finally, they will close that dark chapter of the North's past with his execution. I am still wondering if someone is going to guess the actual method. Feel free to speculate.

Regardless, thanks for reading and if you have anything to add, I would love to read your feedback.

P.S. For those that hadn't noticed, the first official, actual trailer to the House of the Dragon prequel spin-off to Game of Thrones was released on the day this chapter was posted, and speaking for myself, I loved it. So, if you want to check it out, just sharing the news.