Hello Readers! This story revolves around Ciara, a young woman from our time and universe who ends up in George Martin's world. She becomes the Stark children's story-teller, and by telling them relevant stories and fairy tales from our world, she helps them solve their own problems. Although I mainly write teenage fiction, I will attempt to branch off into more adult content, but will change Rating as necessary.

I do not own any of the world or characters, that all belongs to G. R. R. Martin. I just own Ciara :) Though just to reiterate, the possession and ownership of humans is wrong and illegal, so just to clear up that Ciara is a fictional character. Thanks :P

Here's just one sneak peak of a Stark problem:

'But I don't want to marry a blacksmith mother! He's going to be dirty and common!'

Catelyn looked down at her daughter with sympathetic, if bemused eyes.

'Sansa,' she said, 'Gendry may some day be king and you will be his queen.'

Sansa stared at her mother. 'I was betrothed to a prince before, and Gendry is not a prince.'

Arya laughed behind the wall, unseen. She recalled a long time ago, when Septa Mordane had told her mother that Arya had the hands of a blacksmith. Well now Sansa would have the hand of a blacksmith! Arya ran away laughing and thanking the gods that it was not her on the other side of that wall with mother.

Just to let you know that if you find yourself liking this fan fic, but prefer reading on ebooks etc. I will happily send you the latest version of the 'Child of the Heart Tree' in an ebook format, providing that you either follow or favourite the story and leave a review at the lastest chapter specifying the format wanted, e.g. .mobi or .epub, and leave an email address either there or in my message box :) Thank you and hope you enjoy.

Prologue

A red comet blazed in the sky, turning the water the same hue as the blood that was ever-present on the fateful weirwood. The heart tree wept as she struggled to break through its boughs. For it was here that Ciara found herself engulfed by the darkness and lingering echoes of the screaming children.

Ciara braced herself for take off, routinely swallowing and yawning, willing her ears to pop. Outside the sky was a murky grey colour, matching the River Thames and the rest of London, yet she still felt a sad pang as she pressed her hand against the cold window and said goodbye. Soon she would be in America and her new apartment. New country, new home, new school.

Ciara had been a newly qualified teacher at a London secondary school, but after Jake, her boyfriend of four years, had broken up with her, she saw no reason to stay in the same city, or even same country as him.

After landing in Newark airport, fifteen miles from Manhattan, Ciara stepped out, blinking in the sunshine and realising that she had no idea where she was going. There were no taxis around and the queue for the information kiosk made her want to cry. One of the other reasons she had left England behind was to escape the queues. With a sigh she heaved her cases to the side and rifled through her bag for her mobile phone. Why hadn't she thought to note down the postcode... or zipcode she mentally corrected herself. There would be a lot of new spellings and differences that she would have to come to terms with. She googled the zipcode, the word tasting funny in her mouth. and pasted it into the maps app. It would take two hours to walk! Ciara laughed at the thought of walking any longer than half an hour. Her ten minute morning commute walk to the station everyday had been exhausting enough. Coach it was then.

Twenty five minutes later, Ciara arrived in Bayonne, New Jersey. She was left alone on the pavement... Side-walk... waving her phone in a motion figure of eight to try to find a sense of direction. The little arrow pointed her to a fading-white block of flats. There was no-one around and of course she had no contact number, because she was and had always been, unprepared. Even when she had joined Scouts as a child with her older, cooler brother, she was always unprepared, whether it was forgetting her uniform or nearly setting fire to a leader whilst flipping pancakes. If there was a normal or accepted way of behaving, Ciara usually couldn't cut it. As she stood outside the locked doors of the greyish block of flats, she grimaced at the memories. At least if she had purposely not fit in she could try to come across as alternative or edgy, but no, it was all an accident...like most things in her life.

Looking down the list of names and flat numbers, Ciara pushed the buzzer for the superintendent. No voice came over the speaker, but the door beeped and unlocked. She left her two cases in the hall and knocked on the superintendent's door. There was no reply. She knocked again. Still no answer. Looking around her, the hall was still empty, still silent. Ciara turned the doorknob and it opened.

The room was dark inside. There were two lamps, a coffee table, a worn out sofa, a tank and a metal desk with a bulky computer monitor on top. She was alone in the room except for the lonely turtle that seemed to be staring her down. In the tank she caught her reflection and tried to fix the matted curly hair that had stuck to her face and neck whilst travelling. At the end of the room there was a door with a 'KEEP OUT' sign scrawled across it. Maybe the super was in there. Ciara quietly approached the door and knocked. There was a movement on the other side.

"Hello?"

No reply. Ciara pulled her satchel closer to her, feeling slightly uneasy. She should probably just sit on the sofa and wait, however she was tired, irritable and simply wanted to collapse half-naked on her new bed.

She knocked again, louder this time and was answered by a muffled cough behind the door. Screw irritable, now she was getting angry.

"Excuse me. I'm the new tenant. I would like to collect the key to my ro-" Ooooo-Ooooooo!

Ciara jumped back away from the door. The dog's howl had startled her. It sounded like the kind of dog that she didn't want to upset... It was then that she heard the growling and then a whimper.

What the hell is going on in there?

She tried the handle and the door budged, but it seemed to be stuck, as though something was pushing it closed from the other side. Now worrying for the safety of the superintendent that she had never met, she put all her strength against the door and heaved. It swung open and she was greeted with a burst of icy wind and dazzling, white sky as she fell from the doorway.

She blinked, or at least she tried to. Her eyes were wet as though she was crying or had used her eye drops. Ciara put her hands to her face trying to wipe her eyes, but screamed to see them stained red. She was crying blood.