She was having dreams again. She was running through the forest, the pure bliss of wildness and freedom rushing through her body. The moon above her flooded the woods with light. She was attuned with her senses―the dirt and grass under her paws, the wind in her fur, the smell of nature in her nose―she felt invincible. Other wolves ran with her, but she knew that she was different. She was bigger. Stronger. Faster. She was better than them, and they knew it too. She was their alpha.
Arya was familiar with the dream. She's been having it several times over the past year. She knew in her heart what wolf she was dreaming of. It was Nymeria. She was positive about that. Her feeling was proven right when she had seen herself in a pool of water. Grey fur and golden eyes had looked back at her. She was larger than when Arya had sent her off at the Ruby Ford, but Arya knew her best friend when she saw her.
Nymeria and her pack came to a stop in a clearing. Trees and shadows ringed around a Heart Tree, but the moon illuminated the open space. The tree was nearly as large as the one in Winterfell, with the same aged-white bark, blood-red leaves, and agonized expression carved into the trunk. All that was missing was the black pond.
A man was kneeling in front of the tree. He was speaking in an ancient tongue that Arya had never heard before. It was guttural and clanging, almost like it was not supposed to be spoken by the human tongue.
He was dressed in common clothing with a strange green cloak that had antlers on the hood. He wore a dagger at his side that was made from a strange black stone. There was something about the man that Arya couldn't understand. It was like being in the presence of her father. He had an aura of power and mystery. Arya felt both drawn to him and terrified of him at the same time.
Arya stepped into the clearing, a warning growl creeping up her throat. Other wolves stayed back in the treeline, not as strong or as brave as their leader.
The man stopped speaking and turned to look at the giant wolf. Arya was simply looking at things through Nymeria's eyes, but if she had been there in person, she would have stumbled backward.
The man's eyes were glowing red.
"Skin-changer." the man said in a tone that echoed through the clearing. "You have power, but you do not know how to use it."
Arya wanted to ask why. She wanted to ask what was happening, who he was, where they were? She had no idea there was weirwoods south of the Neck besides on the Isle of Faces, let alone Heart Trees. She had so many questions, but Nymeria had no way of speaking, and so her questions remained trapped inside her head.
"Speak with your brother, the Three-Eyed Crow," the man continued. "He will help you unlock the connection."
A strong breeze blew through the forest, forcing both the man and Nymeria to look north. The breeze was uncomfortably cold and had no place south of the neck. A few of the wolves whimpered and shied away, but Arya quickly snarled at them, keeping them in line. The strange man glared into the forest, a hand coming to rest on his dagger. It was like the man expected the wind to attack him, which was absurd.
"They come," he said gravely. "You must be ready, daughter of Stark. Every blade will be needed to fight off the darkness."
There was rustling in the branches above the tree and little figures dropped down. They were colored in green and browns, dressed in cloaks made from leaves and holding weapons made using the same glossy black stone. Arya knew at once that she was looking at Children of the Forest. Creatures she long thought had gone extinct or had at least migrated to the far north. They looked exactly like Old Nan said they would.
"Every blade," the man repeated as the Children surrounded him. "The deep forests are being woken from their slumber. Not since the presence of the new gods in Westeros have these trees been active. Eyes will see again and hearts shall be opened."
One of the children said something in the same language that the man had been speaking, except when they spoke, it sounded more like a song.
The man nodded. "Aye, the lions shall help as well, but it is the last true dragon who will be the turning point."
Arya's shock and confusion turned to frustration. She wanted nothing more than to ask the man what in the blazes he was talking about, but she was only a ghost, a viewer. She had no voice, only her eyes and ears.
"Go," the man commanded, looking at Arya. "Dawn comes, and with it, another day to prepare."
The direwolf bowed its head before the strange man before bounding off into the woods.
Arya's vision became clouded in shadow before she sat upright in bed, her heart pounding and her nightshirt drenched in sweat. She looked around, thinking for just a moment that she was still in Nymeria's body, running through the woods with her pack, but now she was back in her room at Winterfell.
She laid back down on her bed slowly, folding her arm under her head as she turned on her side. She's had dreams before but never like this. They had never been as life-like as when she was inside Nymeria's mind and she could remember each dream with complete clarity. She had already figured out that they weren't dreams of the past or future, but the present.
She couldn't figure out why they were happening to her, and that frustrated her more than anything. She hated not knowing anything.
"Speak with my brother," she said softly to herself, remembering what the man had said. She only had two brothers in Winterfell at the moment, and she had a strong feeling that he didn't mean Rickon.
Arya wasn't sure if she was ready to talk to Bran yet. He had changed so much that he was practically unrecognizable to her now. It wasn't the wheelchair or how much he had grown physically. That made sense to her. It was his demeanor, his personality, that made Arya uncomfortable. She felt….unworthy to talk to him. It frustrated her and confused her at the same time. The only people who seemed comfortable talking to Bran were Father and Meera, Lord Reed's daughter.
Before Arya closed her eyes, she promised herself that she would speak with Meera tomorrow and wouldn't take no for an answer. She was tired of having questions.
Line Break
"Arya, what are you doing?" Meera Reed kept saying as the smaller girl pulled her into the library.
Meera had been working on her archery when Arya had rushed out the keep, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her back into the keep. Meera kept repeating her question, but Arya ignored her and continued pulling. Finally, they reached the very back of the library.
"Arya." Meera snapped, pulling her arm back. "What in the blazes do you want?"
"What's wrong with Bran?" Arya asked.
"Nothing," Meera said immediately, although her eyes told a different story.
"You're lying!" Arya cried.
Meera crossed her arms and looked around. It was obvious that she didn't want to say anything, but Arya wasn't going to let her leave the room without getting an answer. The correct answer.
"What happened north of the Wall?" Arya asked.
Meera shook her head. "You don't want to know, Arya, so leave it be. Lord Stark knows and that's all who needs to know."
"Bran is my brother!" Arya said, struggling to keep her voice down. "Tell me! Please! I need him to help me make sense of these dreams!"
"Dreams?" Meera asked. "What dreams?"
It was Arya's turn to hesitate. "I have been having….dreams. About Nymeria."
"The dornish queen?" Meera asked.
"No, my direwolf," Arya explained. "I had to make her leave in the Riverlands so that Cersei couldn't kill her. She attacked Joffrey and protected me."
"How long have you been having these dreams?" Meera asked. "What do you see in them?"
"About a year," Arya answered. "It's like I'm….her. Or I can see through her eyes and feel what she feels, but I'm not controlling her."
"You're talking about warging," Meera said.
Arya shrugged. "I don't know the name of it."
"Tell me, Arya," Meera said. "Tell me everything."
Arya told Meera about her dreams, all of them. What she had been feeling and seeing as her wolf. She finished by telling Meera about her dream from the night before and Nymeria's interaction with the strange man and the Children of the Forest. Arya had gone into great detail about that dream, including all of the questions she had wanted to ask, but couldn't.
Meera leaned against a bookshelf. "Gods above," she whispered. "You met a Green Man. Or at least your direwolf did. They are not supposed to leave the Isle of Faces."
"Why did this one leave then?" Arya asked.
"The Long Night," Meera whispered.
"That's a myth," Arya said dismissively. "The Long Night is a story meant to scare children."
Meera shook her head. "No, Arya, it's not. It's real and it's coming."
"How do you know?" Arya asked.
"Because I've fought wights," Meera snapped. "I've seen the undead. I've lived with Children of the Forest. I've seen greenseers and wargs. Every myth and legend you've ever been told, Arya, are true."
"What does any of this have to do with Bran?" Arya asked.
"He's a warg!" Meera said. "He's more than that. He's the last greenseer."
"Greenseer?" Arya asked.
"Yes, greenseer," Meera said. "The reason we went north of the Wall is because Bran needed to learn how to use his powers, and the person he needed to learn from was the Three-Eyed Crow."
"That's who I need to talk to!" Arya said. "That's what the Green Man said! To talk to my brother, the Three-Eyed Crow."
Meera rubbed her face. "Arya…."
The second daughter of Eddard Stark was wiping her face as well. "Can you please just start from the beginning?"
Meera did exactly that, explaining why she and her brother had first come to Winterfell. Her brother, Jojen, had dreams about Bran that forced him and his sister to leave Greywater Watch. Jojen was the one who convinced Bran to go north of the Wall and find the Three-Eyed Crow. Bran was destined to have some power, and the only man that could teach him how to use it was the Crow. This led to the three of them plus Hodor and Summer abandoning Osha and Rickon after Winterfell was destroyed.
Meera then went over her time with the Children of the Forest and living in the cave of the former Three-Eyed Crow where Bran learned how to use his powers of greensight and skin-changing. Meera wasn't sure exactly how these powers worked, only that the old man, who Arya's Uncle Benjen claimed was Bloodraven, was the only one capable of teaching him. Eventually, the old man passed the title onto Bran before the group left. The girl from the Neck finished up her story by explaining the group's journey back to the Wall, their battle with wights, and Jojen's death.
"Bran is something that only he seems to understand," Meera said finally. "Whatever you need to know, he's who you should talk to."
Arya nodded. "I will."
Sandor Clegane
The Neck was a terrible place to live. With only one safe road through it, the rest of the land wanted to kill whatever it touched in some terrible manner. They had almost lost one stupid knight who thought that there was safe ground to walk on and it disappeared the moment he stepped on it. A lizard-lion turned up and took the man's hand as its bloody prize.
That was on the first day.
After that, Lord Arryn ordered every man to stay on the road no matter what. That meant that every morning, the entire company formed up into two neat lines and continued the journey north.
Sandor wasn't sure what to make of the new lord of the Eyrie. He was like all the other knights, big and muscular, but there was a practicality to his personality that made Sandor hate him a little less. He also treated the Little Bird a hundred times better than the last prick she was betrothed to.
What also made him different was his bastard children. The young lord had two bastard children, a boy and a girl, from two different women. Other lords would pay a small fortune to the mothers to ensure that the matter was forgotten, but not Lord Arryn. He ensured that both women were set up with husbands, comfortable lives, and did not try to hide his past from the little bird.
Thankfully, she's grown up with a bastard brother and Lord Arryn's actions only strengthened her love for him.
Sandor's hand drifted to his sword as a new rider came into view. They rode a small, stocky mount and wore a dark green cloak. Their head and face were completely covered by a hood and cowl. There was no visible weapon on them, but Sandor knew better than to let his guard down.
Everything in the Neck wanted to kill you.
"Who stands in the way of Lord Arryn?" Lord Arryn's right-hand man, Ser Wallace Waynwood, demanded.
"It has been years since a lord of the Vale has ridden north," the man responded. "I see he has a beautiful wolf by his side."
The man flipped back his hood to reveal a craggy, weather-beaten face, shaggy brown hair, and deep green eyes. Under his cloak, Sandor could barely make out riding clothes as well as the hilt of a shortsword.
He nodded respectfully to both Lord Arryn and the little bird.
"Lord Arryn, Lady Sansa, I am surprised to see you so far north."
The boy wasn't sure how to respond, so the Little Bird did. She smiled and bowed her head to the man.
"Lord Reed, I am surprised to find you here instead of home at Greywater Watch."
A few more riders emerged from the swamp, catching Sandor off guard because they seemed to appear out of the fucking trees. Like Lord Reed, they too rode small horses and wore green cloaks. Many had frog spears in their hands and bows slung across their backs.
"I have been summoned to Winterfell by your uncle, Benjen," Lord Reed said as the Little Bird and Lord Arryn moved a little closer. "It's urgent. May I ask why you are riding north?"
"Lady Sansa had a….run in with the Mountain Clans of the Vale." Lord Arryn responded. "They said that they were marching north to fight alongside the Starks. My betrothed wished to speak with her lord father about this and I elected to join her."
"What of the Vale?" Lord Howland asked.
"Ser Morton Waynwood is currently acting as protector of the Vale in my absence," Lord Arryn responded.
Lord Reed nodded slowly. "Then it seems that our paths both lead towards Winterfell."
"If it is not too much trouble, my lord, we would count ourselves lucky to ride with you and your men." the little bird said. "No one knows the Neck like the people of Greywater Watch."
Lord Reed bowed slightly to the girl. "It is always an honor to ride with a Stark."
Line Break
The three nobles sat in the main hall in Moat Cailin's keep. After taking ownership of the ruin from his cousin, the first thing Derren Stark, now Derren Rose, had rebuilt was the main keep. It had taken a year alone to see it done, but now builders were working alongside crannogmen on repairing walls and towers. Sandor had heard from a foreman that it would take five years, if not longer, for the moat to return to its former glory.
Sandor had been expecting Lord Rose to receive the group, but the former sellsword-turned-lord had ridden for Winterfell a day ago. Now, Sandor stood near the doors, listening as Lord Reed, Lord Arryn, and the Little Bird spoke.
"You said that my Uncle Benjen sent messages across the north?" the little bird asked. "Do you know why?"
"He said that he has found proof of an enemy north of the Wall." Lord Reed answered.
"Enemy?" Lord Arryn asked curiously. "Does he mean the wildlings?"
Lord Reed shook his head. "Forgive me, Lord Harrold, but Benjen Stark would not have summoned the lords of the North to Winterfell to tell them about wildlings. If the wildlings were threatening the Wall, I assure you that I would not be riding north with ten men."
Sandor smiled slightly at the wiry lord's words. He found himself enjoying Lord Reed's respectful bluntness and honesty. He was not a prick who stood tall on his title and power. He was humble and modest, not caring the slightest that he was not garbed in the best clothing or carrying the best weapons. He was a man who was confident in who he was and didn't give a shit about others' opinions.
"Do you know what proof my uncle is writing about?" the Little Bird asked.
"And what does it have to do with the mountain clans?" Lord Arryn added.
"My answer to Lady Sansa's question answers yours, my lord," Lord Reed said. "There have been rumors of the Long Night returning."
"The Long Night?" Lord Arryn frowned. "That is but a story, my lord."
"I wish it were, Lord Harrold, but it was a very real and very dark time in history," Lord Reed said seriously. "I suspect that the First Ranger has proof of it coming."
Sandor knew that any other lord, such as the fat oaf in Sweetsong or even the new lord of Redfort would continue to scoff at Lord Reed's words, reusing the words 'snarks' and 'grumpkins' until day turned into night. Lord Arryn still had a few years between him and his bannermen and such was not as defiant to the notion of the Long Night returning.
"What about the clansmen?" Lord Arryn asked finally.
"They're First Men," Sandor grunted before he could help himself. "Or used to be."
Lord Arryn raised an eyebrow while Lord Reed just nodded. "Clegane is correct. The Mountain Clans are descendants of the First Men. Even though they have been fighting against the Andal lords of the Vale for generations, it seems that they have not forgotten the ancient enemy north of the Wall."
"Lord Reed, do you have any more proof?" the Little Bird asked. "As you said, this could just be a rumor."
"I wish I had more, Lady Sansa, but all I have are the wildlings fleeing south, this letter, and the fact that winter itself is coming," Lord Reed said grimly. "The mountain clans marching north adds validity to how strange this case is, but not enough to convince anyone who's not a northerner."
"Does Robb know?" the Little Bird asked.
"I suspect he does," Lord Reed said, surprising the two young nobles. "Your brother Jon is at the Wall now, his orders coming from both Winterfell and King's Landing."
Sandor wasn't too surprised that the Young Wolf knew what was happening in his frozen home. The king had a habit of doing the unsuspected that made southerners look at him funny. Sandor respected the man and knew that he was smarter than he seemed. He never dismissed any event without giving it its due diligence, something the past three kings rarely, if ever, did.
"Does he believe that it's the Long Night?" Lord Arryn asked.
"I am unsure." Lord Reed said although Sandor was willing to call bullshit on his claim. The wiry lord seemed to know too much than he let on. He knew damn well that the king believed the Long Night was coming, but he wouldn't tell Lord Arryn that. The young Lord Paramount was a staunch ally to the Young Wolf and would call his banners in an instant if he thought it would help the king. By keeping both he and the little bird in the dark, Lord Reed was protecting them both from looking like young fools in front of both the lords of the Vale and the entire realm.
"My father will know the answer," the little bird said confidently. "It seems we have one more reason to be in Winterfell."
"Ned won't be there." Lord Reed said. "He's been summoned to the Wall by the King-Beyond-the-Wall."
"Who?" Lord Arryn asked.
"King of the wildlings," Sandor grunted.
"Aye, a man named Mance Rayder. A former member of the Night's Watch." Lord Reed said, gazing at Sandor for a moment before looking at the two young nobles. "He's asked to speak with Ned."
"Strange," the little bird said. "The wildlings have always been at war with the Night's Watch, have they not?"
"For hundreds of years, yes," Lord Reed answered. "However, it does not seem like Mance Rayder wishes for war. He's rumored to have a hundred thousand wildlings as well as giants and mammoths. More than enough to overwhelm the entire strength of the Night's Watch, but he has instead chosen to speak with your father."
"You did say the wildlings were fleeing." Lord Arryn pointed out.
"I did." Lord Reed nodded. "My lord, my lady, I wish I had the answers you seek other than beliefs and flimsy possibilities. We will hopefully learn more when we reach Winterfell and speak with Benjen."
Sandor smiled slightly. The man was a good liar, much better than the cunts that Sandor was around when he served the blonde shit and his bitch of a mother in the capitol. When Lord Reed looked at Sandor, the massive warrior gave him a look that let him know that he saw through the lie before following the little bird out of the room.
Sansa Stark
Despite the chill, Sansa couldn't help but admire the rugged beauty of the North. The King's Road speared the land, heading north towards Winterfell and the Wall. The land spread out on either side of it for as far as the eye could see. A few small trees and rocks dotted the landscape, but that was all. The land north of Moat Cailin was a stark contrast to the danger and darkness of the Neck.
Sansa breathed deeply and exhaled, enjoying the northern air. There was something different about it that set the land apart from the Vale and especially King's Landing. It was almost as if you could smell the freedom and the wildness of the land. The Vale was beautiful, with towering mountains, graceful valleys, and wonderful people, but the North would always be Sansa's home.
"It's rather late, is it not?" Harry said, coming to stand beside her on the battlements.
"I couldn't sleep," Sansa replied, glancing over her shoulder before realizing that Sandor was asleep in his room. Under the safety of her cousin's men, her sworn sword, at Sansa's insistence, had finally agreed to sleep.
It still amazed the young woman how she had managed to become friends, if such a word could be used, with a man like Sandor Clegane. She remembered a time where she could barely look him in the face, now there was no other man, besides Harry, who she would want by her side. Having him by her side, watching her back, protecting her from all dangers and enemies, made her feel more courageous than she ever had before. It was an astonishing feeling. It was as if he was lending some of his enormous strength to her.
"The North is beautiful," Harry sighed. "Lord Royce always spoke glowingly of the land and her people."
"I am glad you think so," Sansa said with a smile. "So many saw us as savages. I hope that Robb can change their minds."
"If any can, your brother will be the one to do so," Harry said confidently. "He's a man you follow into hell without hesitation."
"It seems as if you might if Lord Reed is to be believed," Sansa said softly, her smile fading.
"Do you think he's right?" Harry asked curiously. "That the Long Night is coming?"
"I'm not sure," Sansa admitted, her mind flashing back to her childhood as her tone became soft and reminiscent. "I used to sit outside my brothers' door as Old Nan told them her stories. Whenever she spoke of the Long Night, she used to say that the words of House Stark are not for the changing of the seasons, but as a reminder of what comes with it."
Sansa shook her head, giving her betrothed an apologetic look. "Sorry. Northerners are an old race and we still cling to our old tales."
"Perhaps," Harry nodded. "I grew up being told that the Mountain Clans will never give up their fight. Yet here we are, running after them to see why they've done exactly that."
The auburn-haired beauty looked at her betrothed, surprised. "What are you saying?"
It was Harry's turn to shake his head. "I know what my bannermen would say about all this, but Lord Reed was right. The Long Night is not just a tale, but a part of our history. Unfortunately, our history may be coming back to haunt us."
Sansa nodded. "If I remember Old Nan's stories, they may be coming back to do much more than that."
Harry leaned against the battlements and stared north. "Thank the gods we have a wall then."
Sansa wrapped her cloak tighter around her slim shoulders. The words 'hopefully it will be enough' left unsaid on her tongue.