Author's Note

The only person who was born a different gender in each chapter, is the person listed as the chapter title. Everyone else is still born the same, unless butterflies have changed them. For the most part I've tried to pick names or invent names that are as close to that person's actual name, but of the opposing gender of course. I've also made the decision that whatever a person's pleasure was as one gender, will be their pleasure as the opposite gender, with distinctions only being made for the change in gender. This means someone who might be polyamorous is still polyamorous. Likewise if a character was heterosexual or homosexual originally, then they still are as the opposite gender, with myself only taking into account that they are an opposite gender. As such a male version of a heterosexual female character will change to liking women as a heterosexual man, and a female version of a homosexual male character will change to liking women as a homosexual woman-just to use a few examples.

These drabbles are only meant to be a taste of what such a world might be like, I do hope you enjoy them as I had a lot of fun imagining them. I don't imagine this will get updated often (knocks on wood) but when I do have something for this, I'll post to it.

But anyway, enough notes. On with the drabbles!

LYAM STARK

He had forgotten how cold the North was. In all his time in Essos and Vaes Dothraki he had suffered through the heat of the Dothraki Sea, but now for the first time in his three and thirty namedays—was that how old he was? It sounded right, but he might have missed one or two out on the grassy sea—he wanted to complain about how damned cold it was. But then again, it had been a while since he'd experienced a Northern winter. Still, he wouldn't say his complaints out loud—not with Ned riding next to him and likely to hear. His son, whom he had named in honor of the brother he had missed the most while traveling Essos, rode on his mount, Vershiqeth—or Grey Wolf as it meant in the common tongue—that his Dothraki uncle had given him as a child saying that he would be a man when he taught the horse to listen to him. Ned was bundled up as any man who'd grown up in dry and warm Essos did upon visiting the North. Dressed to the hilt in furs, he almost looked like a Wildling. It was only his son's long uncut braid which distinguished himself as anything but—the only trace of his mother's Dothraki heritage that Ned had been unwilling to part with when they had readied to sail at Braavos.

With an easy smirk, Lyam looked to his boy who looked almost exactly like the brother he was named for and teased, "And this is the southernmost part of the North," he said as he guided his horse along the causeway through the muck and mire that made up the Neck.

"When will we arrive at Greywater watch?" asked Ned pointedly, the boy had always been direct and to the point, even when telling him stories of Winterfell he had been loathe to have his father deviate from the point of the story.

"Getting to Greywater Watch is not a question of when, for it'll be when the Old Gods see to deem it appropriate."

His son scowled just in the way that his brother used to and Lyam for a moment could imagine that he was not riding with his son, but instead his brother. His brother who no longer lived…

Gods forgive me Ned… Father… Brandon… I didn't know.

Lyam's reverie was disturbed by an arrow which was shot into the trunk of a tree near them, obviously meant to catch their attention. The crannogmen had noticed their arrive, thank the gods, Lyam was growing tired of trudging up and down the causeway. Lyam calmed his disturbed grey and white stallion, Winter, and gave Ned a knowing look, who did much the same with Vershiqeth.

"In the name of the Starks, we come seeking the lord of House Reed of the Neck," called out Lyam.

Nothing beyond the croaking of frogs and the buzzing of insects were heard for the next few moments until suddenly Lyam was taken aback by the arrival of a pronged spear at his side by a small crannog woman. She had long brown hair done kept only to her shoulders and distinctive green eyes. Green eyes that Lyam knew he recognized before noticing the faded lizard lion symbol on her tough-skinned vest. Ned went to draw his sword, but Lyam motioned for him to stop—and right he was for the next second his son barely ducked a blow dart that had been aimed at him.

"In the name of which Stark?" asked the crannog woman, pressing the pronged spear closer to his body.

Lyam met her familiar green eyes and with a dark tone to his voice he said, "In the name of my father, Lord Rickard. May the Others take the Boltons for flaying him."

The pronged spear did not lower immediately until a boy not much younger than Ned, who shared his appearance with the woman and thus looked almost exactly like Howland had at Harrenhal all those years ago, stepped out from the mists of the bog and put a hand on the woman's shoulder.

The boy said, "Put it down, Meera, they're safe."

Hesitatingly the young woman named Meera did as she was asked and Lyam gave the boy a respectful nod while querying, "You're Howland's son, aren't you?"

"Aye. My name is Jojen and this is my sister Meera. We have been expecting you Ser Stark, though we did not know you weren't alone," explained the boy oddly.

Ser Stark… I haven't heard that title in a long while… definitely Howland's boy.

Lyam replied tactfully, "Well, it appears that you know who I am. The young man with an overly serious countenance is my son, Ned… Odd how our arrival has been expected, given that I have not said a word of it to any but two persons—one of which is with me."

And Drogo would hardly care where I went—even if I did marry his sister.

"We have much to discuss Ser Stark, but doing so on the causeway is not wise—especially in these days. Follow me and step where I step. We'll have to take the long way through the bogs, but it will be the safest way for your horses," explained Howland's boy.

As they walked off the causeway, they were joined by a few men dressed in tunics denoting houses of the Neck, one of which with a blow dart reed eyed Ned suspiciously as they walked. The trek through the marsh and misty bogs took enough time, with Ned growing distracted several times by a floating light that Meera was more than happy to knock some sense into him about even thinking of following.

"Whysps. They're the real bog devils. The pesky things trick you into following them, and soon you're stepping into a sink pit or are some lizard lion's meal," commented Meera to Ned, who grunted in return.

Long after night had fallen they arrived at a large body of open water amongst the swamp that the mist was the thickest around. Once at the shore, Jojen held his hands up to his mouth and gave an animal call out into the mists—a call which was repeated back to them from a distance not too far away. They then waited and Lyam heard something moving through the water as eventually a string of lights began to appear in the mists which grew brighter as they came closer. Soon Lyam was able to make out a large wooden hut with a thatched roof floating on the water towards them. All around the hut was a wooden palisade from which torches were attached. Soon the hut was close enough that a gangway was brought out and lowered so that the hut could be accessible to the shore. When the hut had made landfall Lyam and Ned were greeted by the sight of an older man with a long bushy brown beard wearing a lizard lion leather vest and breeches, and whose green eyes twinkled with delight upon seeing Lyam.

"It is so good to see you, my old friend," said Howland as he embraced Lyam in a warm but friendly hug.

"Aye, and you as well," replied Lyam.

Howland then pulled back from the embrace and a sad look crossed his face as he said, "You've been gone for too long, Lyam… far too long. I have a surprise for you though, which you will appreciate."

A surprise?

But Lyam did not have to wonder long. He was invited into House Reed's crannog with its interweaving hazel stick walls called hurdles giving a thin but noted separation between rooms inside of the crannog. Howland did not lie when he said he might appreciate it, sitting around a central hearth, bundled up together were a boy and a girl, close in age, and each barely ten namedays from what Lyam could surmise. They looked up as Lyam entered the room, their grey eyes locking onto his and Ned's, and Lyam felt his legs almost give out beneath him. Stark grey eyes, long faces, brown hair… it all was there.

Impossible… they should be dead!

But he could not deny what he saw before him… they were Ned's boy and girl, Lyam and Arya, the true heirs to the Eyrie and the Vale, some might have said, but Lyam cared not, for all he cared was that some part of Ned lived on… he and his wife Annalys may have been killed by the assassins that the Gulltown Arryns had hired, but here, in this crannog, he lived on through his son and daughter... Lyam saw it in their eyes.

"Hello…" said the boy who obviously was his nephew named for him.

"H—hello," repeated Lyam weakly, still too overwhelmed by the sight before him to be able to speak decently.

"You're our uncle, aren't you?" asked the girl boldly as she stood up and crossed to Lyam, eyeing him as suspiciously as Ned always had whenever Lyam had been plotting to pull some prank on Brandon.

"Aye, I am…" replied Lyam, to which she replied with a firm hug, which Lyam embraced fully. When his niece had had enough she pulled back from him and then turning to Ned, asked, "And who are you?"

"This is my son, Ned… Ned… these are your cousins… Arya and Lyam…" answered Lyam.

"You know our names?" asked the boy as he stood up, though did not approach.

"Aye… after I had heard you might have escaped to Braavos, I tried to find out everything I could about you both, to find you…" answered Lyam to the boy who was his namesake.

"You heard, but you did not come," answered the boy, who gave Lyam almost the exact look Ned had given him upon catching him in bed with that servant girl nigh twenty namedays ago—that same disappointed, hurt, and sad look that Lyam could not for the world endure. His nephew then retreated to one of the smaller rooms off of the central room and slammed his stick woven door shut with as much force as he could. Arya however stayed close to Lyam's side and embraced her cousin Ned in much the same manner that Lyam had received—which was slightly uncomfortable to his son, Lyam considered, but the discomfort seemed to ease as Arya invited Ned to the hearth so that they could play a game together. It was then that Howland, who had remained outside of the crannog entered his own home and patted him on the back.

"Give the boy time…"

"Did he see them die?" asked Lyam

"He was hardly older than a babe, but if he did, then he has not told me about it," replied Howland.

Lyam admitted quietly to Howland one of his two worst fears, "Sometimes I wonder if I had only stayed and joined the Kingsguard like the King wanted, if all this might have been avoided…"

It had been a trap of an offer, made after his discovery as the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Initially Lyam had entered as a mystery knight in the Tournament of Harrenhal only to compete against Brandon and earn some justice for Howland at Benjen's insistence, but after beating Brandon he'd felt so giddy, and so full of himself he thought he could take on the rest of the lists. Ser Barristan had shown him otherwise, knocking him from his horse, and his anonymity along with it as his helmet had gone flying. The King had later had him dragged before him with the offer of joining his Kingsguard. Luckily Lyam had the ability to think on his feet and had respectfully declined, saying that he was not fit for such an honor, being that he was too young and that he was no knight. Aerys' smile then had twisted cruelly across his face as he agreed with Lyam, but insisted that some suitable reward for his actions needed to take place. And so Lyam had been knighted upon the King's command by Ser Barristan, with the King promising that they would speak again soon, when he became a man grown. The King's intentions had not been left in any doubt, Lyam would join the Kingsguard whether he wanted to or not. Damn whether his father had arranged an odious marriage to Barbrey Ryswell, damn his own thoughts and feelings on the matter. The King wanted him and he was marking his territory to have him. And that, more than anything had led Lyam to take his prized stallion Winter's Wind and ride for White Harbor a few days shy of his six and ten nameday. He had wanted to choose his own destiny, to be free like his grandfather Rodrik had been. But then Aerys, from what he had heard, had declared that his family had let him escape and declared them all traitors beginning that bloody rebellion.

"Such questions are best left unanswered, my friend," warned Howland, and Lyam knew deep down that he was right. Down that path of should haves and could haves was an unending forest of questions that one could lose their way in if they dwelt there for too long.

Lyam asked "Do the Boltons still have Brandon's girl?"

"Aye… Roose married Sansa to his boy Domeric," answered Howland calmly.

And he flayed her father, mother, both of her grandfathers, her uncle, and her two brothers and turned them into a fine dress for her to wear…

The singers in Braavos had been eager to tell of the death of the Starks—for a piece of gold of course. Though how much was true about the "Pale Wedding" as it was being called now, Lyam tried to have doubts.

"We need to save her, Howland," urged Lyam pointedly.

Before she quickens with Domeric's child… I'll not suffer some flayed spawn of Bolton's sit upon father's throne… I owe Brandon and the North that much at least…

Howland sighed and is said in his quiet but confident voice, "We will."

"Aye, the pack will reunite…and woe to our enemies when we do," added Lyam quietly, watching as Ned and Arya played their game of colored pebbles. In the girl's smile Lyam saw his mother once more and he thanked the Gods once again that she and Lyam were alive—even if the boy did dislike him. Together they would go North, free their cousin Sansa, kill House Bolton and restore House Stark to its rightful place. The Gulltown Arryns would have their turn, House Darry would eventually be overturned so that one of Sansa's children could return to the Riverlands from which her Tully family had been driven out during the rebellion, and Lyam would see the Mad King and his crazed grandson who took after him upon spikes before he'd let them rule the Seven bloody Kingdoms. They would all get back what was owed to them by sticking together, of that Lyam was sure. What was it father had always said?

The lone wolf dies but the pack survives—something like that…

Again, Lyam turned his eyes to observe Ned and Arya. Arya by this point had grown quite tired and began to have her eyes droop with exhaustion. Eventually this ended with her cuddling up against Ned, who looked over to Lyam worriedly, unsure of what to do. Lyam smirked, rose, and picked up his little niece, carrying her into a side chamber that Howland had indicated was hers. Lyam laid his niece out across the bed and pulled a blanket over Arya. After putting her to bed, Lyam checked on his namesake to find the little boy likewise asleep, though he was curled up on his side facing away from the door.

I will protect them Ned… I promise you that. I promise…

And although he knew it was futile to make such a promise to the dead, Lyam thought that mayhaps this one would work out for the best.

STARK FAMILY TREE OF THIS TIME LINE

Rickard STARK
m. Lyarra STARK

-Brandon STARK
-m. Catelyn TULLY
-Cregan STARK (original time line Robb)
-Sansa STARK
-m. Domeric BOLTON
-Rickon STARK

-Eddard STARK
-m. Annalys WAYNWOOD
-Lyam STARK (original time line Brandon)
-Arya STARK

-Lyam STARK (male version of Lyanna)
-s.r. Ega (sister of Khal Drogo)
-Ned (original time line Jon Snow)

-Benjen STARK