1 month after the death of Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King

En Route to Braavos, Arya Stark

The waves rolling chaotically under the boat as the storm blew around them. Cersei… Arya curled herself into a ball on her small bunk thinking of the events that had taken her so far from home. Joffrey…Above her she could hear the crew battling to get them safely to Braavos. The Tickler…The men whispered that she was cursed while others said that she wasn't even there, that she was a ghost or, worse, death. The Hound…She had to admit that she looked worse than ever, unwashed, choppy hair, and sullen eyes. Ilyn Payne…They weren't off on the death part, though. She wouldn't hesitate to kill if they tried to find her out or made a move on her. Polliver…

The night rolled on but she couldn't sleep. Ser Amory…There was a mixture of fear and dread at the thought of her arrival in Braavos. Ser Gregor…She had given the coin to the captain and even without her saying it he understood exactly where she was going and the thought both scared and relieved her. Weese…If she didn't speak the men would not be able to figure out she was really a girl or that she was Arya Stark and on the run. Chiswick…It wouldn't be so easy forever though. Meryn…Soon enough she would have to return to Westeros. Dunsen…Her freedom would be ended one way or another. Raff the Sweetling…Unless, she gulped, she was too late. The Hound… No. Thunder struck the sky above the ship. Valar Morghulis. She wouldn't be too late. She'd kill them all.

At last she could fall asleep on the harsh cot. Her dreams were filled with direwolves and her father's head as it rolled across the cobbles at the Sept of Baelor and Joffrey's voice screaming for Ser Ilyn to kill him. Unknown to her the sea grew more and more uneven as her dreams grew worse. The next day the sun rose in a clear blue sky over calm waters. The calm made Arya ill at ease. In every part of her memory calm always signified something worse was coming, the real storm.

Near the Twins, on the banks of the Green Fork, Robb Stark

Robb Stark looked back at the towering visage of the Twins. His mother had struck a hard bargain to get him across and to win him the Frey's support in the war. Looking forward, toward the south, he pushed the thoughts of the Frey family to the back of his mind. For now he had a war to worry about and two sisters to save. All that would have to happen before he had to marry the Frey girl and he had no idea if he would even survive let alone win the war.

The men set up their new camp near Seagard where the lord rode out to meet him. Tired from the ride and weary of what would come, Robb barely paid any attention to the meeting. Later he learned that the Mallisters had agreed to ride with his army South. He lay awake that night Grey Wind by his side thinking of his siblings scattered aross the kingdoms and Winterfell. When this was all over they would all go home, even Jon would be brought from the Wall to celebrate the end of the war and the girl's return home.

Grey Wind pressed against his master to comfort the boy. A shiver passed through him as he realized how cold he really was. He was always cold; he had lived his whole life in the North. Cold was as much a part of him as his father's since of honor that had been drilled into him since birth. He had blood of the First Men, he didn't get cold. But the Southerners would freeze. The former Queen, Cersie Lanister, and her son, the bastard king, Joffrey. He would bring winter to the. Winter is coming.

The Red Waste, Daenerys Stormborn

The exiled queen licked her lips making sure to get every last drop of water from her waterskin. It had been a week since she had stood in the flames with her Khal and his murderer. Her dragons made small sounds from their cages. They were her children, all she had left besides the remnants of her Khalasar. Those that remained were not the strongest of the men but she knew that in time they would be the strong warriors she would need to take her throne. Maybe, if she could, the strongest of her husband's Bloodriders would return.

She looked at the horizon. The Red Waste seemed to last forever. How long could her people last in these conditions? How long would their supplies last if they were to become lost within the vast dessert? They would all die if she failed them. She already had failed them once when she allowed the witch to tend their khal. She had lost their heir; their hope was gone because she gave the witch the order to use blood magic to save Drogo.

Ser Jorah was her island, her rock, the only thing that kept her strong throughout it all. Of all those that stood beside her, he was the one she trusted most out of all of them. His advice had saved her that day in the market and his advice might have saved her and her sun and stars if she'd have listened. She promised herself she would listen to him more now. There was no doubt in her mind he would stand by her until he died or until she sat on her throne unless he told him otherwise. She didn't know if she'd send him away but they would take her back her throne. With fire and blood.

Author's Note: This is IMPORTANT. I'm using my own timeline. For the most part the story will revolve around Arrya and Daenerys and their partnership. The story is based for the most part on the TV series and what I've read about the books. Please feel free to tell me if any of my facts are wrong but please do so politely as some may be on purpose.