A bit of fun here, and a look at the world if it was a bit more modernised shall we say. We'll meet Sara, a budding historian from Wintertown who is off on a school trip to the ruins of Winterfell and will have her life changed forever.
11735 Years After Aegon's Conquest
Sara was so excited. Her school was the first in the North that were invited into the ruins to see the new excavation site, and as history was her favourite subject she couldn't wait. The long walk from the sprawling city of Wintertown up to the old castle of Winterfell had taken a while, but she was right at the front of her small class as they got to the fences blocking the ruin from public life.
"Who knows who built Winterfell?" Her teacher, Robert asked, and of course, her hand went straight up. "Sara."
"Brandon the Builder almost 20,000 years ago." She answered eagerly. She heard sniggers behind her and calls of geek, but honestly, she didn't care.
"Well done." Robert smiled at her. "And when did it fall into disrepair?"
Her hand went up again, but another classmate was chosen. "Only about 400 years ago."
"Correct Patrek." Robert congratulated. "The history of the castle of Winterfell is a long and bloody one. Countless wars were fought here, and it was sacked and burned almost a dozen times by House Stark's enemies, but it was always rebuilt and always improved upon until that day 400 years ago when nobody truly knows what happens. Now, has everybody done their homework on the Kings of Winter?"
Sara nodded eagerly. They had had to do a small report on one of the past King's or Lords of Winterfell, and she had chosen one of the most divisive. She looked over to her friend Brandon, who of course had chosen one of his namesakes, Brandon the Burner.
"Sara, who have you chosen?" Robert asked.
"The Black Wolf." She said quietly, and the class stopped messing around.
"Interesting." Robert answered. "Why is that?"
Sara looked around at all the eyes on her and suddenly felt very shy. "If you discount the myths and legends around his time, he was one of the most interesting rulers of the House." She told him.
"He's only interesting because he was Cregan the Great's father." One of the popular kids laughed. "Now that's a true King."
The class laughed, and Sara felt herself going red. "Now class." Robert settled them down. "It's well recorded in the tomes of Grandmaester Samwell over at the university of Oldtown that those myths did happen, and that King Torrhen did in fact lay down his life to save humanity."
"But White Walkers? Really sir?" One boy laughed.
"Tell me, Gared. Have you been to the Fist of the First Men?" Robert asked. The boy shook his head. "It's a terrifying, haunted place, but the signs are there. Have you been to Dragonstone to see the ancient cave paintings?" Another shake. "Proof that there was an invasion of White Walkers almost 20,000 years ago. We certainly can't say what happened here in the time of King Torrhen, but he certainly died in battle at Winterfell there is too many sources claiming that. Now come on, we're going to be the first of the public to enter Winterfell in almost 400 years."
They moved into the castle, where rubble was everywhere. The Great Keep still had the first floor that was accessible though and that was where they were going. Robert began to give a lecture on Winterfell's history, but Sara already knew it all from books her Father had handed down to her before he passed. Instead she looked over to the side, where two tattered stone Direwolves sat, guarding an old wooden door.
"Sir, what's over there?" She asked.
Robert looked over. "Good question Sara, the truth is nobody alive truly knows."
"How can they not?" Gared asked. "It's just a door."
"It's a door that won't open." Robert corrected. "You need to have Stark blood to do so, and nobody alive has Stark blood, not since the name died out 500 years ago. Historians have often wondered as to if there is any alive, but not one heir has been found." That intrigued Sara. "I tell you what, I'll give you all 5 minutes to go and try the doors to see if you're the long-lost heir to Winterfell." Robert said as a joke. The class ran over quickly, with each of them trying the door. It wouldn't open for anybody though, not even Brandon who went almost last.
Sara was the last one to try, and not expecting anything, she placed her hand on the handle. To her surprise, it turned.
The door swung open slowly, and it was pitch black inside. Getting her torch out, she peered down and saw only steps.
"Welcome, Sara of House Stark." A voice came from beside her. Sara turned and saw a young man in a wheelchair, covered in fur clothing. She turned to her friends but was horrified to see they had frozen in time. "It is just us two for the moment." The man said, getting up out of the wheelchair and stretching his legs.
"Who are you?" Sara asked.
"I am Brandon, of House Stark." He answered. "Brother to King Torrhen, the Black Wolf."
Sara's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Torrhen Stark lived 11 and a half thousand years ago." She told him.
"As did I." Bran answered.
"Then how… how can this be happening?" Sara asked.
Bran gave a wry smile. "I'm a Greenseer, and I'm the Three Eyed Raven. I can see through time. The past, my present, or my future. You have dreams of things that can't be possible, don't you?" Sara did. Her Father often spoke cryptically of her dreams and asked her to spell them out for him word for word before he died, but she didn't think anything weird of them. "You're a Greenseer, you see things that are yet to be, and your mind travels into other animals, controlling their bodies while you sleep."
Sara looked scared, but his words seemed accurate. "I dreamt I was a dog once. My dog." She whispered.
"You're a Warg as well." Bran told her. "It's in your blood. You are descended through the line of Torrhen Stark. Your ancestors include Cregan the Great, Edwyle the Defiler and most recently Jonothor the Last Wolf. What is hidden in history is that Jonothor had a bastard daughter, who had a family that descends to your Father, and finally you. You are the last ancestor of the ancient House Stark."
Sara was bemused. "No, no I'm just a normal girl from Wintertown with funny dreams. I'm not… I'm not a Stark!"
Bran smiled knowingly. "I understand your concerns, but these doors were magically sealed by Jonothor when he entered the crypts for the last time. Only the blood of House Stark can open them, and it was you opening these that signalled me to this time."
"Where are you now?" Sara asked.
Bran sighed. "The Battle for the Dawn." He answered. "Right now, the Night King and the White Walker's are in the Godswood of Winterfell. Torrhen is about to lay down his life defending me."
Sara felt sorrow. "The Godswood was destroyed hundreds of years ago." Before she shook her head and looked at him suspiciously. "There are no such thing as White Walker's."
Bran smiled and touched Sara on the shoulder. With a white flash she was transported into a woodland area, in the middle of a ring of fire. Bran walked beside her, but he was also sat down in a chair by a giant white tree with a carved face. "That's a Weirwood…" Sara trailed off.
"It is." Bran noted. "And that, is your ancestor. King Torrhen." He pointed to a man in black leather armour, holding a bow. "You want to know all about him for an essay, well I can teach you how to see everything. You can see his life, you can see the life of his son, and his son, and his son afterwards. You will be able to see all that has been, all that is and all that could be."
"How?" Sara asked, as blue eyes appeared through the fire. Her attention was taken by Torrhen quickly firing an arrow through the flames and shattering one of the demons. She jumped back in terror. "What was that?"
"A White Walker. Watch closely, you'll see the Night King soon." Bran explained.
Sara watched on as the head demon stepped forwards and extinguished the flaming circle. "What's happening?" She asked. Bran just had his head bowed in mourning. Sara watched as Torrhen fired an arrow at the Night King and it failed to kill the demon, before he screamed at his men to kill everything else. She started biting her nails as Torrhen engaged with the Night King in a sword fight, and she recognised the sword. "My Dad had one similar to that in his house…" She trailed.
"It's the same blade." Bran explained. "Valyrian Steel."
In awe at that knowledge, her amazement quickly turned to horror as Torrhen was impaled through the stomach. Sara screamed, and the Night King turned to face them both. Bran placed his arm back on her shoulder, and they were transported back to the crypts in her time. "What happened?"
"You'll see another day." Bran told her. "You've awoken your third eye by coming here so I can appear to you and help guide you, although to complete your training you must travel here." He tapped her on the forehead and immediately Sara knew that she had to travel even further North. "I shall see you again soon, Sara of House Stark."
With that, Brandon Stark disappeared, and the bustling noise of her class was heard once more. "Sara! By the Gods you've opened it?" Brandon said in surprise. "Over here! Sara's opened the Crypts!"
Sara shut the door immediately, a nagging feeling in her mind that she shouldn't let everybody down there. "I… I'm a descendant apparently." She whispered to her friend. Robert came over and looked at Sara with concern. "Are you alright?" He asked. She shook her head, and so he turned to the class. "Go and follow our guide into the Great Keep. I'll be with you all in a moment." The class dissipated, and he turned back to Sara. "Why didn't you tell us you were a Stark descendant?"
"I… I didn't know." She whispered. "I'm a Greenseer as well apparently. I just had a vision as I opened the doors. Of Bran the Broken."
Robert's eyes widened in acknowledgement. "He disappeared from Oldtown almost 100 years after the Targaryen Restoration during the reign of Gaemon the Gormless." He remembered. "Nobody knew what happened to him."
Sara stared down at the doors leading to the crypts. "I think I might…"
A few years later
As soon as her heritage had been proven beyond all doubt Sara was granted the vast wealth that had accumulated from House Stark from the Iron Bank over in Braavos. That thankfully meant that she never had to work a normal job, and as she graduated Sara became a historian, basing her research on those years between Aegon's Conquest and the Summer Islander Invasion of Dorne in 625 AC. Her mind was always drawn Northwards however, and she packed her bags a couple of months after her Mother died and travelled.
Even with the technology of the modern day, it still took a couple of weeks to get to the area that had been ingrained in her mind ever since that day in Winterfell's courtyard, but as soon as she saw the gigantic Weirwood tree, she knew she was here. She saw a cave underneath it and was compelled to go inside.
Snaking through the underground tunnels, she was horrified to see bones of animals and humans mixed together, although her horror turned to wonder as she got to the central room.
The roots of the Weirwood tree formed a sort of Throne, and inside the Throne was the oldest man that Sara had ever seen. She walked over towards him and knelt before the man.
"Cousin." He croaked. "You have come finally."
"This is impossible." Sara whispered. "You lived thousands of years ago."
The man smiled. "Once I was young, and a son of House Stark. Today I am simply the Three Eyed Raven, unable to move from my throne as I keep a watchful eye on the world. But you shall be my successor, Sara of House Stark. You shall have your third eye truly opened and become my successor."