Sorry for the delay in updating, exam didn't go well at all and then I just had to get my mind back into writing and work the kinks out of my typing fingers. Plus I kept getting distracted playing Stellaris. Anyway, hope you all enjoy the new chapter!
Chapter Text
Chapter 34 Just when you thought the awkwardness was over...
Eddard Stark
The sun was setting as he stomped through the camp uncaring of those that fled from his path, and fled they did. There was no other word for it. Ever since the Karhold, his hackles had been raised and his humours ill....and no one had been safe from his temper. Even Jon and Robb had been tiptoeing around him ever since....he'd lost his temper. It was the first time that he'd truly lost his temper like that since he was a child. Not even his legendary row with Robert as they stood over the dead Targaryen children had he lost it like that. Back then, he'd had to remember that Robert was still the King they were placing on the Iron Throne.
Jon was his king now, but it hadn't mattered to him when he'd confronted him about Jaime Lannister. He hadn't kept a civil tongue in his mouth as he'd cursed the Kingslayer and all his dishonorable acts in words that would have had Cat red and angry with him for using inappropriate words in front of the children.
…and that was the crux of the matter. Less than two moons ago, they were his children, all he could see was Jon and Robb as children. Sansa, Arya and Bran were still all children in his eyes. Jon was the dour son, Robb the smiling heir. Sansa was his sweet kind girl. Arya his rebellious little she-wolf. And Bran was his energetic and smiling climbing son.
Except they weren't any more...
Jon was the King now, Robb, the Young Wolf. Sansa had enough ice in her veins to make any of the ancient Stark Kings of Winter proud. And Arya...she was changed as well.
He knew deep in his heart that Jon was still hiding something about Arya, but there was no part of him that was in a hurry to find out just how bad it was...
And the less said about Bran- the Three Eyed Raven, the better.
He sighed deeply.
After the incident; Jon and Robb had looked at him and hadn't recognized the man standing in front of them after his tantrum. And it was a tantrum, it couldn't be named anything else. Everything had boiled out of him, all his anger at the injustices served to his family and all the changes had compressed into one single point of rage as he was forced to accept more changes to what he had been so sure was an unchangeable fact.
A part of him had taken more than a little satisfaction from threatening and scaring Rickard Karstark witless...and another part of him had been appalled at his lack of control. Jon Arryn would have been disappointed at his lack of control.
Afterwards and since, he knew he had acted like a sullen boy, retreating away from any conversation that was not relevant to the day to day matters at hand. Jon Arryn would be more disappointed with him.
But it still made his blood boil every time his thoughts strayed to Jaime Lannister and all he had done. He'd saved half a million souls in King's Landing by breaking his Kingsguard oaths. He'd cuckolded his King- with his own twin sister no less, and again broken his Kingsguard oaths. He'd come into Ned's home and tried to murder Bran, breaking guest rights this time. He'd turned against his sister and helped Jon and Daenerys by breaking his oath to his own sister.
The man was a damned oathbreaker of the worst kind and more infuriating than anything else Ned had ever had to deal with in his entire life!
And now they were supposed to be allies?!
He growled under his breath and pushed those thoughts aside, if he didn't he wouldn't be able to think straight again. As he walked a couple of men caught sight of him and without missing a beat, turned around and fled back the way they had come. Ned paid them no heed, it had become a common occurrence. His thoughts turned back to how they had gotten here in the first place...and where they were going next.
It was a long winding path from Winterfell to here and it still wasn't over yet. It wouldn't be over till they went south and faced Robert. But for now, here they were heading to the Last Hearth, with the Karstarks joining them, though the bulk of the Karstark men and their banners would follow after them, to join them at the Wall, at Castle Black.
There were already two days out from the Karhold and only now was his anger starting to cool. What little time he'd spent with Jon, their exchanges had been terse and to the point. He kept wanting to reprimand his son for trusting too easily...except now, his son was the King. It would be unseemly for the Lord of Winterfell to be seen trying to reprimand the King, no matter how much he wanted to and he had done so many times before...
His confrontation with Sansa after he found out about Ramsay had not gone how he envisaged it and he felt that confronting Jon about Jaime now, would be a rehash of that argument. And he hadn't won that argument by any measure imaginable.
He lost himself to his thoughts and found that his feet had a mind of their own. He found himself in front of the Reed encampment. He had been intending to return to his own tent, but his feet had brought here instead.
A very nervous Reed man came up to him, hesitant and stuttering, "Lo-lord St-Stark," he bowed and swallowed nervously.
Ned eyed him for a moment, for a moment before speaking, "Where is Lord Reed?" he asked sharply.
The man swallowed nervously again, "H-he's by his be-bedroll, my Lo-lord."
"Take me there," Ned commanded brusquely.
The man practically jumped as he nodded, "Yes, my Lo-lord." He turned and walked quickly away, with Ned quickly matching the man's fast pace. The unseemly pace suited Ned fine now, he had no patience for delays these days.
Soon enough, they reached a small clearing. Howland didn't have a tent, he had a bedroll next a fire, out in the open, just like the rest of his men. The Crannogmen weren't much for standing on ceremony even by Northern standards.
Howland was sitting on a rock, he looked up as they approached. He frowned for a moment before he caught sight of Ned. He rose from where he was sitting, and bowed, "Lord Stark."
Ned nodded back, his face still grim, "Howland."
Howland waved the guard away and the man practically ran away, in haste to leave.
Howland cast a look at the retreating man, "I see you're still keeping everyone on their toes, Ned," he said with a needling smile.
Ned Scowled.
He chuckled in response, "Sit down, Ned, let's talk."
Ned didn't sit down or speak, instead he began pacing back and forth by the fire. Howland remained standing and watched him pace. After a short while he asked, "You wanted to talk to me?"
Ned stopped and turned back to him, "How can you stand it?"
"What?"
"The world's changed. This isn't the world I knew anymore." Ned stated morosely, his shoulder's tensing.
Howland shrugged, "Considering the alternative? I'll take this one. I have Jojen back. You're alive. Your sons are alive, and a lot of people are going to be spared horrible pointless deaths. I'm not actually seeing a downside to this world..." he admitted candidly.
Ned stared for a moment before slumping in defeat, Howland was right, but it didn't make it any better. The alternative was horrible and maddening, but it didn't make it any less maddening dealing with all the changes. It all left him feeling like he was on a ship in the middle of storm, the deck constantly swaying uncontrollably under his feet. Every time he thought he had his footing, the deck would shift again under his feet and threaten to throw him from his feet.
"It's best just to remind yourself that there are more pressing matters we need to focus on, namely the Others." Howland paused and gave him a cheeky grin, "As you're so fond of reminding me; Winter is coming..." He stressed the words of of House Stark giving them a more sinister ring even as his eyes danced with mirth.
Ned snorted. The irony of having his own words quoted back at him was not lost on him. Howland's simple words and simple answers were like a balm to his nerves, but still it felt like he was losing his children. He told Howland as much.
"You died and the world went on, they grew up. They changed. It's the way of the world. It would have happened even if you had lived," Howland retorted evenly with another shrug.
Ned turned away in annoyance, again, his friend's words rang truthful in his ears, but it didn't make them or him feel any better. Or tell him how he was supposed to react...
Howland came to stand by him and put a hand on his shoulder, "It is what it is, Ned. You'll get used to it after a while... probably.... maybe...."
Ned turned and gave Howland a scathing look before snorting, "Now you're not putting me at ease," he muttered in disgruntlement.
Howland shrugged and smiled toothily, "And....what are you going to do about it? Is there something that can be done?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, "Because I think the only way forward is to make your peace with it and accept it. There isn't anything that can be done." He went back and sat down on his rock, next to his bedroll.
Ned glared again, "Thank you so much for your insight," he retorted dryly.
Howland gave him an irreverent smile and bowed his head, "Glad to be of help, my lord." He grabbed a goblet and wineskin from next to his bedroll. He poured a cup and raised it up to Ned, "Now come join me and relax. Have a drink. You're still putting the men on edge."
Ned sighed and reluctantly found a rock next to Howland, taking the goblet. It was a wineskin filled with ale and not wine as was the habit of Northerners. He downed the ale in a single deep gulp.
"Feel better?" asked Howland.
"No." Ned growled back.
"Then have another..." he refilled the goblet and then grabbed one for himself.
They drank in silence for a moment, before Howland asked, "Did they at least tell you about the good things that happened?"
Ned snorted again, "There were good things?"
"Aye, not everything was bad," suddenly, Howland seemed to turn morose, "That little she-wolf of yours, there are times I look at and all I see is Lyanna."
The sudden change of topic and demeanor jarred Ned, though he quickly matched Howland's dark mood, Arya...she was his constant living reminder of Lyanna...much more so than Jon ever was...especially with all of her rebellious antics, "Aye. Lya would loved her." Why was Howland mentioning Arya now?
Howland shook off his dark mood as quickly as it appeared, as he quickly grinned, "They tell you she fell in love?"
Ned sputtered and chocked on his ale, "What?" he cried when he finally caught his breath.
Howland nodded, enjoying Ned's surprise, "Oh aye, she found herself a good man that loved her back. Honest and reliable, devil with a warhammer...if a little dim at times, but all things considered Gendry's a good man."
His thoughts ground to a halt, "Gendry? Robert's bastard? That Gendry?! The Blacksmith boy?!" Ned asked in surprise. Gendry? Surly there were other Gendrys in the North? It couldn't be that one...
Howland was taken aback for a moment before he nodding, "Forgot for a moment, he said he met you in King's Landing."
Ned stared at Howland, it was that Gendry! He continued staring for a long moment before grimacing, "Cat's going to have a fit when she finds out." He remembered the boy on the cusp of manhood, who looked so much like Robert, but with none of the arrogance. He'd have offered him a place in Winterfell if the boy had wanted it...not his daughter!
"Then it's a good thing we're here and she's in Winterfell," Howland retorted with a grin.
Ned groaned, "I'll still get more than an earful about it when we get back to Winterfell." He could just imagine just how loud Cat would get when this was brought up for discussion.
Howland's grin grew larger and he refilled Ned's goblet, "Then it's best you enjoy the peace and quiet here while you can."
xoxoxoxoxoxxoxooxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
Sarella Sand
Being back in Sunspear was disorienting for her. The suspicious looks from many of the guards wasn't helping either. They'd marched her unerringly towards her uncle's solar once she'd announced herself at the gates.
She'd noticed idly as she'd been marched to the solar that Sunspear had gained some new decorations. There were a lot of heads on spikes decorating the outer walls.
She'd known going into Sunspear the news of what had happened in the Water Gardens, the awful, heartbreaking news. Obara, Tyene, Nymeria and Trystane...Ellaria...
She'd been mad with rage when news of what they'd done in the past life first came to her in the Citadel. She'd refused to speak with them after what they'd done to Uncle Doran and Trystane. She had ignored all the messages they'd sent to her...and then it had been too late to write to them or speak with them at all.
When news of Euron Greyjoy's attack had come to the Citadel, it had been all she could do not to cry out in grief and reveal the truth about herself. By the time darker tales had reached her ears of what Cersei had done to Ellaria and Tyene...it hadn't mattered anymore, she'd had other things to scream about then. Legends made flesh coming to kill them all had been a surprising balm for her grief. The need to focus on that had been all consuming. The truth of about the Maesters had only added to that focus.
And the Death of Oldtown had been all that counted as it happened around her. Coldness and death had come for and a part of her had looked forward to being reunited with Father and her sisters...
But then the surprise return to life had happened, bewildering her and everyone else, more so especially when Leyton and Baelor Hightower came and sacked the Citadel around her. Revealing herself had bought her an audience with the Lord of the Hightower and despite the Reach's prejudice against bastards and Dorne, he'd welcomed her into his inner circle, he'd needed an emissary to Dorne that would be listened to and trusted. She was the natural choice, considering the situation. The Archmaester of Magic had agreed.
She mentally paused for moment, yes Marwyn was a sensible one, for all he'd been scorned for being the Archmaester of Magic. Though the reason for the scorn was readily apparent in hindsight.
And now, here she was in Sunspear with news of treason and monsters on top of the dire, bloody situation that had already developed here. She knew Father wasn't here, a small part of her was thankful considering some of the news she was carrying. Better to deal with Uncle Doran's calculating nature then her father's fiery temper. Another part of her ached to see him again, she'd lost him the last time without being able to say goodbye.
She was led to Uncle Doran's solar and allowed to enter immediately. The guards escorting her came in with her and what she found inside was unexpected.
It was very alarming to see her uncle pacing about his own solar...but most alarming of all, was Areo Hotah's notable absence from her uncle's side. Uncle was dressed as he usually was but the swordbelt he had around his waist was new. She'd never seen him armed before.
As he paced he cast a dismissive look towards her but didn't stop pacing. He ignored her, leaving her there wondering just how much more had changed in Sunspear in her absence.
Suddenly, the pacing stopped and Uncle Doran turned to look at her with suspicion in his eyes, "Sit and tell me Sarella, what important news do you bring me?" his voice sounded far too much like father's on a bad day for her comfort now. He took his own seat, lounging there giving off the appearance of ease, even though he looked like a viper waiting to strike.
Disquieted, she obediently sat opposite her uncle, meeting his gaze meekly in submission.
"...though I wonder why I should believe anything you say after your sisters' previous betrayals?" He added as she sat.
She'd expected something like this. Sarella met Doran's eyes, "It was father's bad example they followed...but vengeance must be tempered." She shook her head, "I had nothing to do with their plans. I knew nothing till after they had already acted."
Doran looked at her with suspicion for a moment before huffing, "You've always been a better thinker....and calmer as well. At times I wondered if you were truly my brother's daughter, but you are like him in many other ways," he nodded then sighed, now he sounded more like the calculating man she knew him to be, though it had a hard edge she'd rarely heard before, "I do not hold any responsibility for your sisters' actions on you...but if you had been in Dorne, perhaps you could have knocked some sense into them...it doesn't matter any more now, House Martell cannot afford to be divided anymore," he finished in exasperation.
"They rarely listened to me," Sarella rejoined unhappily, "And I have always been loyal to House Martell; Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken."
Uncle made a noise with his throat and then irritably waved his hands at the guards, "Go leave us alone." he commanded.
The guards hesitated for a moment before Doran's steely gaze reinforced his order. Sarella settled a little more in her seat, relief that uncle would hear her out properly now.
"Tell me your news," he commanded.
"A couple of things uncle..." she paused for a moment, unsure of where to begin. She'd endlessly agonized and imagined how this conversation would go, but so far nothing was as she expected it.
"Then speak Sarella," commanded Doran testily, some of the suspicious still in his eyes.
She'd rarely had to deal with her Uncle when he was this testy, mostly it had been father and her sisters that had raised his ire such, as he'd said she was supposed to be the sensible one. She straightened her back and faced her uncle, banishing her fear, "There is a traitor here in Sunspear."
Doran's lip curled in disgust, "Who?"
"Maester Caleotte."
His face went blank and the suspicion in his eyes disappeared and was replaced with surprise for moment before the suspicion returned and hardened into anger, "Explain."
"Caleotte is a part of group of maesters that have been conspiring together for centuries," she quickly answered.
Doran frowned, "To what end?"
"Simply put...they consider themselves the secret rulers of Westeros. The power behind each lord and the King. They believe themselves to know what is best for the people and have done their best to guide things towards what they believe is right and away from anything they do not approve of."
Doran raised an eyebrow, "Audacious and arrogant of them, but you do have to admire the scope of their plans at least."
She smiled nervously, "You're not going to say that by the time I'm finished."
His eyes narrowed in response, "Then continue."
She nodded, "Foremost among their beliefs, is that magic should be snuffed out and forbidden."
"And yet here we are. Alive, as if someone turned back the sands of time as easily as overturning an hourglass," he interrupted her with contempt.
Sarella nodded, "Well, no one could have expected what Brandon Stark did."
Now Doran was truly surprised, "Brandon Stark?! He did this? How? He was long dead by the time I died?"
She shook her head, "He wasn't, but please uncle, let me finish. It's all linked and it's best to take it piece by piece."
He didn't look mollified, he ground his teeth and gestured for her to continue.
She gave him a weak smile and continued, "You have to understand that this conspiracy predates the Targaryens. The divided nature of the Seven Kingdoms was to their advantage, it allowed them to push and pull the Kings towards their goals...but then the Doom happened and then Aegon came and changed everything," she took a deep breath, "Aegon was a Dragonlord and Targaryen blood is filled with magic. Everything they did was anathema to them. They decided that they needed to exterminate them."
She paused and looked at her uncle, his eyes were attentive, but there was no comment forthcoming, so she continued unabated.
"All through the years they pushed the Targaryens' to misstep after misstep. Oh, the dragons had their flaws and were quick to anger in many cases in their own right, but many times various maesters would push things from bad to catastrophic with a little manipulation. An ignored message here. A misquote here. An outright false message there. A poisoned heir here and there. Murder and kidnapping. Nothing was unthinkable to them and it all pushed the Targaryens towards their doom. Their anti-Targaryen campaign nearly succeeded at Summerhall. They murdered Aegon the Unlikely and Prince Duncan, but they were properly thwarted by Ser Duncan the Tall there. They betrayed and stabbed and burned him, and still he managed to save the then Princess Rhaella before dying. He has four pages in the white book of the Kingsguard. In three centuries, no knight has as many pages to his name as he does- and with what I know now, it's probably going to grow to five or six pages when someone finally writes out the truth about his part in the Tragedy at Summerhall."
Uncle raised an eyebrow at this, though she could see his disquiet rising as well.
"...eventually by the time she was Queen, they were resorting to poisoning her, but Queen Rhaella was hardier than expected, she still managed to have children despite Pycelle's efforts. When that didn't work, they manipulated Tywin Lannister against Aerys. They broke their friendship and step by step pushed Aerys from unstable to mad..."
Her uncle's eyes darkened as she mentioned the Old Lion, but she continued on unabated, her words gaining speed as she neared more recent events.
"...there was obstacles in this new plan. They knew that Joanna Lannister was reining in her husband in his dealings with Aerys...so they removed her. They secretly murdered her, for what is more natural then a woman die in childbirth? Especially when the child is malformed? Their maester let her bleed to death," she explained.
"What?!"
Sarella jerked back in surprise at her uncle's outburst.
"They murdered her?" his eyes were filled with disbelief and shock.
Sarella silently nodded in affirmation.
Doran sat back in a pensive silence for moment before speaking, his voice was strangely quiet and without anger as he spoke, in a tone she'd never heard coming from her uncle, "I remember when news of her death came to Sunspear. Mother...mother was inconsolable for an entire day and night. The last time I'd ever seen her so shattered was the day that my father died...." He paused pensively before continuing, "Mother was the strongest woman I have ever known...seeing her like that was...painful." She recognized the tone in the end, he sounded...mournful.
Sarella cleared her throat in discomfort at seeing this side of her uncle, "If it helps...that maester is still alive and at Casterly Rock," she paused, "The truth will be known there soon enough."
He stared at her in surprise, before huffing in annoyance, "At least there will be some justice in this world, Mother would be pleased that this maester will die screaming for his crime," the word justice was stressed with angry irony. He shook his head as if clearing it, "Continue Sarella, I know there is much more that you have to speak of."
She nodded, and gladly moved on, this was an unexpected side of her uncle that she'd never seen before, "Without Joanna there, Tywin was ready to be used against Aerys. They manipulated him to the point where he was looking at Aerys as he had once looked at the Tarbecks and the Reynes." She braced herself for what was probably coming and shook her head sadly, "Prince Rhaegar's actions at Harrenhal didn't help. It was easy to manipulate things against him there. They intercepted messages from him, from Lyanna Stark and from...aunt Elia. They hid them all and let Brandon Stark's fiery nature do the rest."
She had her uncle's undivided attention now, the dangerous glint was back in his eyes.
"What messages?" his tone belied the murderous intent that she was reading in his eyes now.
She swallowed nervously, "There was one supposed to be sent to you. She...she spoke of some arrangement she'd come to with Rhaegar. She asked for you to support him when the time came."
"And what was this arrangement?" he asked snidely.
Sarella shook her head, "I don't know, aunt Elia never wrote anything else about it. She wrote that she would explain in person when she returned to Sunspear."
Doran drummed his fingers on the top of his desk, his expression unreadable for the most part, except for the fury, the fury was rising even as she was looking, "Continue."
"The rest is pretty much known, the Stark's were executed and the rebellion happened, but Rhaegar..." she took a very deep breath and braced herself, silently thanking whatever gods were watching that her father wasn't here, "...had the High Septon annul his marriage to aunt Elia and married Lyanna Stark." She tensed as she finished speaking.
…
The explosion didn't come. She frowned, her uncle didn't seem surprised about the hidden marriage.
He looked at her with veiled eyes, "I am aware of that part. I know of their son, Jon Targaryen and just where he's been hidden all these years." he stated dryly with a wry smile on his lips.
It was her turn to be stunned. She stared at her uncle, how in the name of the Old Gods and the new did he know? Who had told him?
He saw her stunned surprise and explained, "Lord Dayne was kind enough to ask us to swear loyalty to him soon after we all returned."
"Lord Dayne?" she asked startled. What did he remember?
He waved her question off, the smile disappeared form his face, "That aside," the fury had returned to Uncle's demeanor, "Elia. Did they give no thought to her?" He demanded standing up and leaning menacingly forward on his desk, his eyes filled with unleashed fury.
She squirmed, "No. She was just in the way..." she faltered for a moment, she added softly, "...she didn't matter to them."
"And the children?"
She squirmed more in her seat and swallowed, her own anger rising in her heart, "They wanted them dead." she spat angrily.
Doran snarled and sat back down into his chair. Without warning, he slammed down on his desk, startling her.
"Damn them all! Damn them all to the Severn Hells!" he raged, sounding much too much like her father for her ease. "Those fucking rats!" His face was red with fury now, "Tell me. What exactly has Caleotte done here? What part did he play in Elia's death?" Doran asked through clenched teeth.
She swallowed, she knew this news would not be welcome either. I don't actually have much good news, a small piece of her mind noted woefully.
"None. He's been poisoning you."
Her uncle froze, "Explain. Now."
"Your gout. It shouldn't be this bad. The medicines he's been giving you have been making it worse...the damage has already been done, but with the remedies I have now we can at least stop it getting worse," she finished.
Doran took several deep breaths and then bellowed, "Guards!"
The door of the solar opened with an alacrity that surprised her as two guards rushed in weapons at the ready, they looked at her first with anger and suspicion in their eyes. Seeing her sitting there sedately confused them. They looked to their Prince.
"Seize Caleotte. Throw him in the dungeon and do not be gentle!" he raged.
The guards were smart enough not to try to ask questions of their enraged Prince as they bowed hastily and rushed back out to obey.
The door closed behind them and he turned back to Sarella, "Why?"
"It was a part of their plan to control to Westeros. They want the lords too focused on their own concerns to wonder about other things. They try to keep a certain level of strife in each kingdom to more easily manipulate the various Lords. The Reach has felt this more than other places. The Tyrells have been sabotaged since the death of the Gardner Kings. The fractious nature of Reach politics has been because of the maesters...again they've lied, cheated and murdered to achieve their goals. Most recently, they poisoned Luther Tyrell's horse. They murdered Alerie Tyrell, she was strong, but ultimately weaker than Rhaella."
Doran stared for a moment before slumping back into his chair, seemingly lost in thought, his expression unreadable.
"Uh..if it helps I did bring a proper replacement for Caleotte, a trustworthy one, he was appalled when the truth came out. At the Citadel, he was one of my teachers- though he didn't recognize that I was a woman, but I hope you won't hold that against him."
Doran focused back on her, his eyes were still unreadable, "I won't hold it against him, but after all you've said I doubt I will truly trust another maester ever again."
She winced, "Yes, that's probably going to be everyone's reactions...once the news truly spreads."
He nodded back in agreement, "You have given me much to think of..."
Sarella started squirming again, she interrupted her uncle, "I'm not actually finished..." she admitted unhappily.
Doran glared, "You come to me speaking of treason and treachery of an unspeakable level and tell me there is more?"
She swallowed nervously, "Well...one more thing. It's...bad. Very bad." she admitted lamely. There really wasn't a good way to speak of the Others to someone who hadn't seen them.
"Pray tell, what other dark tiding do you bring me, niece?" Doran spoke, his voice filled with caution and scorn.
Deep breath. "The Others are coming. The army of the Dead is marching on the Wall and it's going to be a second Long Night." She blurted out hastily before she could freeze.
Doran looked confused, almost as if he could not understand the words she was saying. He sat there silent and staring in incomprehension. Silence stretched out between them.
She took advantage of his silence and continued speedily, speaking of just what she had seen at the end, "...I watched as they overran Oldtown. The dead risen from their graves. Slaughtering everything that moved. Above, the Night's King rode an undead dragon that breathed blue flames. He...he..he brought the Hightower down. It came crashing down..." she shuddered in terror, "It was....indescribable. To watch something like that...." she shuddered again. "I...died when it crashed onto the harbor." she finished quietly.
For the first time in her memory, her uncle looked stunned and was at a loss for words. He was always planning and scheming, but how can one scheme against the Night's King? Only force of arms and a united Westeros could face him.
He sat back in his chair and rubbed at his brow, deep in thought. After several moments he muttered, "Gods! Madness! The world has gone mad. Snarks and Grumkins come to life...and Lord Dayne was warning me about this as well..." He shook himself and sat forward, a renewed urgency filling his tone, "Tell me everything. Quickly."
xoxoxxoxoxoxxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxox
Arya Stark
Arya walked down the hall leading to mother's rooms. As she turned down the corridor, she met Ser Roderick moving towards her. The venerable master of arms of Winterfell was deep in thought as he strode purposely towards wherever he was going.
That actually wasn't a strange thing these days. Ever since their rebirth, most people were deep in thought. To be dead and return unexpectedly was not the sort of thing that a person could take in stride- unless you were Beric Dondarrion, but that was the exception that proved the rule. Even the people who didn't remember were just as disturbed when they were told just how bad things had gotten in the old future.
Ser Roderick caught sight of her and she gave him a genuine smile. In response, he nodded at her and gave her a guarded smile, "My Lady." he slowed as he spoke and then sped up as he passed her. The smile may have been guarded and the words polite, but the flash of fear and suspicion had been there as well. She hid her frown inside, he'd been much warier of her after the revelations about her. The Riverlander knights and men at arms weren't any help with their constant praising of her vengeance against the Frey's.
Ser Roderick was family as far as she was concerned, and she loved him. The gruff old knight had always been a part of her dreams as she wished to be back in Winterfell during her travels, but ever since the truth had come out, nigh everyone in Winterfell had started to treat her differently. Septa Mordane and Jeyne were terrified of her now. She'd seen the Septa quivering in fear in front of her, though Jeyne was surprisingly starting to get better already. Even Ser Roderick treated her differently...and it broke a part of her heart every time she saw him so wary of her. She would never hurt him.
Except the Riverlanders. They were proud and boasting of her exploits to anyone who would listen. She pursed her lips as she walked, she really didn't know what to do about their adoration. And it could only be called adoration. Faceless Men were not really known or loved...and yet now she was both. She sighed, it was what it was.
On the other hand, there was also maester Luwin and Old Nan, of all people, who were treating her the same. Luwin was constantly asking about the secrets of the House of Black and White. Old Nan was asking for stories, their relationship had suffered a strange reversal of roles, but at least the old woman wasn't afraid of her or treating her differently.
She held in another sigh that threatened to emerge. So much was changed. She had Gendry back, but that brought forth a slew of new problems. He was a bastard- and Robert Baratheon's bastard at that, she didn't care about that, but she knew that others would...especially mother. Father might frown and disapprove or he might welcome it, after all, Gendry was still Robert's son....though the question of how Father would react the to the truth about her gnawed at her...when she let it. Would he be proud that she survived? Or would be ashamed of what she became to survive?
Her thoughts came to a halt as she reached the door to mother's rooms. She allowed herself a deep breath before knocking. Two quick raps on the door, "It's Arya, mother!" she called out.
A moment later, mother's voice came hesitantly, "C-come."
Arya entered the room and memories began assailing her. These rooms had been a refuge when she was younger for her and her siblings. Mother used to bring them here to comfort them whenever they'd had a particularly bad day. These rooms were warmer than the rest of Winterfell. Father hadn't liked coming here much, he'd always been too warm and uncomfortable. So this place had always been mother's, and they's alone.
The familiar surroundings gave her comfort. The rooms were just as she remembered them, untouched by the ravages of the Ironborn and then the Boltons after them. The first room had a two simple chairs and a comfortable couch. It was here that mother was sitting. She occupied a corner of the couch, her sewing in hand. She looked less poised than she normally was and even appeared to be a little disheveled.
Catelyn Stark had always been the perfect picture of a Lady of a Great House...but after Sansa had revealed everything mother had retreated to her rooms, coming and going only to the Sept for prayers. She was either sewing or praying these days, withdrawing from from the daily business of ruling Winterfell. Leaving it all for Sansa; not that Sansa was complaining. Sansa had admitted that this actually made things easier for not having to deal with mother's preconceptions.
But here and now, Catelyn Stark sat stiff in front of Arya, clutching nervously at her sewing as if for comfort. She was pale and her eyes unsure as she looked at Arya. More of Arya's cracked now.
"Arya...was there something you wanted?" Mother asked in an unsure tone laced with fear.
The undercurrents of fear she heard were like a dagger in her heart. It perturbed her to see her mother afraid of her.
Arya nodded, "Yes, I wanted to talk, mother." She took a seat next to mother on the couch. She looked up at her and said plainly, "You don't have to be afraid of me."
Mother's face face became pinched, "I'm not afraid," she denied weakly.
Arya raised an eyebrow, "Your body and face says otherwise," she retorted.
Mother shook her head, "Everything is fine, Arya," she denied again.
Arya gave her a dubious look, everything was definitely not fine, "So you're fine with me being a Faceless Man?" she asked with aplomb.
Mother jerked and nearly jumped out of her seat, dropping her sewing to the ground as her face turned white.
"I can see just how fine you are with it," she continued dryly.
Mother clutched her hands together in her lap, trying to stay their trembling. Arya reached out a hand and stopped the shaking, "I'm still Arya, I'm still your daughter." I'm not No One. "I would never hurt you or the family."
Mother stared at her, her eyes troubled and fearful, "I...I...don't know what to say," she admitted after a troubled moment, in a defeated tone.
Arya looked up sympathetically at her mother and admitted, "I don't know what to say either."
Mother let out a very unladylike snort and stifled the guffaw that quickly followed it.
Arya looked at her mother for a moment before letting out a laugh, and giving her a wide amused smile. Mother started and then seemed to relax in response, the colour returning to her cheeks as an embarrassed look came to her face.
Arya snuggled close her mother's side and wrapped her arms around her middle. Being small again did have it's advantages here and now. She rested her head against her mother and let out a deep sigh.
"I know that things have changed, I'm not the little girl you knew. I can never become her again, too much has happened, but...we can pretend, if only for a little while," she stated evenly.
Mother didn't immediately react, but slowly Arya felt her shifting and her body relaxing more. Mother put her arm around Arya and gently starting stroking her hair.
"I remember you used to sing to us here. Can you sing me a song mommy?" Arya asked meekly.
She felt a shudder go through mother and then, slowly, mother began to sing.
Arya didn't pay attention to the words. So many emotions washed over her as she was nestled there cuddling with her mother. She'd dreamt of this for so many years, wished that mother could hold her just one more time after all the bad things had happened. She'd wished desperately for this so many times...to feel safe again. For the safety of mother's embrace...
It was all an illusion, there was no true safety to be found except in death's embrace...but here, now, at least for a while, she -they, could enjoy the illusion of peace for this moment.
And deep inside, a part of Arya reluctantly admitted that she didn't know who needed it more...her or mother...