A/N:I hope everyone had wonderful holidays and a happy New Year! Well, here's this. I don't own anything. More notes at the bottom. Song: Just Exist (Acoustic) by Picturesque
Emmanuelle sat sullenly facing Prince Doran.
It was a full month since Prince Oberyn's proclamation to the entirety of Westeros. Feeling angered and betrayed, Emmanuelle hardly spoke to her grandfather, her uncle or his brother. It was a chore, a bother and if it hadn't been for the fact that running away would be futile, which she knew after trying it three times, she would have successfully done it already. Prince Oberyn tried confronting her numerous times to make amends, but she would have none of it, and claimed she had things to attend to, such as writing to the Citadel. He often knocked on her door and entered her room in search of her, but found that he couldn't find her and had absolutely no idea where she had gone. It was better that way, thought Emmanuelle, because she wouldn't have to make an effort to actually talk to him. She did feel bad about ignoring her grandfather though, so that ended after a week.
Now, hands clasped over crossed knees, she frowned as she looked her uncle right in the eye. He was looking pleased with himself, as he had been since she arrived...well, about four months after, she supposed.
"What was your real goal by requesting I come here?" She decided to drop all formalities since at this point they were absolutely useless.
"I saw potential."
"You saw potential," she repeated slowly, thinking over his words. "For what?"
He sighed and leaned his head against his palm. "For my House. For my people." He watched as she raised her eyebrows in question, tilting her head slightly and confused over his intentions. "My brother has made some...unwise decisions, resulting in more than enough children and he has...brought shame upon me for it. He-your grandfather had been rather upset to find out that his eldest daughter had been involved with Oberyn, and I warned my brother of the consequences, but often times, he does not listen to reason."
"So what?" She spat. "What does that have anything to do with me? My grandfather seemed proud of me already and I was just fine being another Frey bastard. I don't need this title." She bit out. "I don't want it."
"I saw a future for you without the Frey name. I saw you redeeming my House, a bastard of my brother who has accomplished so much already on her own. I saw promise in you."
She turned away, embarrassed and confused and so, so devastated. "But-but you have to understand," she spoke with such conviction, "you have helped him damage one of my most important bonds. I don't know how I'll repair it now that I'm not going to see them any time soon, and...and if I go back to the Riverlands, to see my family, I don't know what they would do when they see me." Emmanuelle stood up, bowed her head and walked right out of the room without saying another word.
As she left, Prince Doran couldn't help but think that even though that, yes, he was in the wrong, he did make the right decision. It would be better for her here, he had to tell himself that. It would be better, and one day, she'd see it too.
Ned Stark was dreaming in his deep sleep.
He dreamt that he was sitting next to Catelyn and their children in the godswood at the base of a tall oak tree. Leaning his head back, he saw the sunlight filter through the leaves and shine on his family as they played and laughed in the wilderness and he smiled. Moments like these were to be treasured forever, never forgotten. He felt something light in his chest and he closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt the cold and they opened immediately. He was standing this time, wrapped in furs and inside of a dark room, what looked like underneath a tree. In front of him was a raven, feathers dark and ruffled and head cocked to one side. Odd, he thought. Instead of two eyes, this bird had three.
He reached his hand towards it and then-
CAW!
…
Ned woke up with his arm outstretched towards the ceiling. It was still the middle of the night when he looked out his window.
A raven, he thought, with three eyes…
Perhaps it was time for him to go searching in the library.
That night, he dreamed of the raven again.
Jon Arryn was an unhappy man. Riddled with things that he was completely unable to tell another soul, he was constantly wary that somehow, someone would find out that he knew things he shouldn't. It wasn't that he was afraid of being killed, no, it was the effects that his knowledge would have on the rest of Westeros. The king had no legitimate children and the queen was sleeping with her own brother. He shuddered. It was truly repulsive. And not only that, but Robert had become something of a brute. Well, he was always a brute, but after the Greyjoy Rebellion, the Seven Kingdoms didn't look at him the same way. If it was clear that all the Greyjoys were killed by rebelling and disobeying the king, who was to say it wouldn't happen again? Who was to say it wouldn't happen to someone for a much lesser crime? The king was unstable and Jon was definitely worried now.
Something needed to happen, something needed to change. He needed a catalyst of some sort, but he needed it to happen to a trustworthy person at the Red Keep, not someone like perhaps Lord Varys. Who was here at the Red Keep though? Who here could he possibly trust in a den of snakes?
It was too late at night to be worrying about this, he thought. He walked over to his bed and promptly fell asleep and dreamed of snakes, lions and three-eyed ravens.
Emmanuelle was training with Thomm in the hot Dornish sun while sweat seeped out from her skin. Her grip on her sword was beginning to strain since they had been practicing for a few hours. No matter how hard she worked at it, she just wasn't getting any better at working with the sword and it aggravated her to no end. Thomm lunged and she ducked, rolled to one side and tried hitting his sword with her own. Thomm whacked her weapon right out of her hand and it fell into the sand a few paces away from her. She groaned and kicked her sword away, stomping on the ground.
"I just don't understand!" She burst, hands clenched. "I keep practicing, you see me practice, and I still don't have the hang of it! I don't understand what's wrong with me!"
"You shouldn't be practicing with swords, silly girl," a voice said behind her. Immediately she turned around to see the face of Obara Sand. "You should be practicing with spears."
Emmanuelle's face twisted into a scowl. "Why should you have a say in what weaponry I should or shouldn't learn? Why should you even care?"
"Little sister," Obara sighed, "you are a Martell, whether you like it or not, and, our House fights better with spears, not swords." She huffed, and shoved a practice spear into Emmanuelle's hands.
"And what am I supposed to do with this?" Emmanuelle barked at Obara.
Obara smirked at her and twirled the spear in her own hands. "Fight me, little girl."
And then Emmanuelle lunged at her.
….
Needless to say, she lost. Miserably.
Trudging back to her room, she wiped the sweat from her forehead in deep thought, thinking about her fight with Obara. Something she noted about herself though, was that Emmanuelle actually had an easier time fighting with a spear than she did with a sword. It was wonderful because she found a weapon she could actually fight with, but at the same time it was humiliating because this was a part of her heritage she wanted to have nothing to do with. How was she supposed to put on a brave face now and have pride when she would undoubtedly have to sacrifice her pride in order to protect herself? Once again, it was humiliating.
She didn't notice as she opened the door to her room that there was already a crack in the door, suggesting that the door had been opened before her, so as she walked in, she had no idea that Prince Oberyn would be sitting on her bed reading one of the correspondences she had with the Citadel. And yes, she was still in contact and writing about thoughts and theories she had, whether about life or the world itself, she did have things to say. Besides, with all that she knew from her life as Sarah, the Citadel was a resourceful place.
"Your thoughts of reincarnation are quite fascinating."
Emmanuelle's head whipped towards the source of the noise. She saw him with her writings and immediately grabbed them out of his hands and clutched them to her chest. Stuffing them with her other things in her trunk, she glared at him.
"Why are you in here?" She eyed him warily. Emmanuelle thought that if she ignored him long enough that he would actually go away.
"To have a nice little chat with you." He sat up from his reclining position and patted an empty spot next to him, inviting her to sit down. She shook her head and he shrugged. "You have been avoiding me."
She said nothing, only continued to stare at him. He watched her eyes narrow and her lips press into a firm line and he felt his heart squeeze. Really, she looked so much like his late sister, it felt like a solid blow to the chest.
"I thought you would have been happy to be legitimized," he said.
"You thought wrong," she sneered at him. "You nearly destroyed my relationship with my family."
He shook his head. "They aren't your blood. Your grandfather is your blood, your aunt is your blood. My brother is your blood, your sisters too. I am your blood. We are your family."
"Then where were you?" She questioned him. "You weren't there for my mother! Brunhilde was there though. You weren't there when she killed herself-my brothers and sisters were there for me though. My father was there for me. You were nowhere!" Emmanuelle's fists clenched and unclenched at her sides while her breathing quickened. "You claim that they aren't my family, but you aren't the one who decides this. I decide who is family and who is not."
The two of them stayed silent for a minute, eyeing each other. Emmanuelle's face darkened, "You had no right to do what you did without asking me first, or even talking to me."
"I did what I thought was best-"
"Why can't you understand?" A few stray tears escaped from her eyes, but she wiped them away as quickly as they came. "I realize that you did what you thought was right, but now I-I-I don't know what to think."
Prince Oberyn watched as she fidgeted where she stood. "I thought I was doing the honourable thing. I thought that by doing this I would be defending your mother's honour and I thought I was redeeming you."
She laughed, "Redeeming me from what? I built up my own bloody reputation by myself, and I didn't need help to do it!"
"I can see that."
"You can, can you? And what was it you said, that you thought you were defending my mother's honour? The moment you slept with her was the moment you rid her of any," she spat at him. "My mother was a girl, foolish and in love with a boy stuck in a man's body! If you had any sense of preservation, you would have thought about the consequences of your actions!"
How was it possible that such a tiny body could be filled up with so much anger? She was so small, so fragile, so impossibly beautiful that Oberyn could hardly understand how someone so precious could look so hopeless. It was his fault, and he understood that now, but how was he supposed to know her mother was pregnant?
"I didn't know she was pregnant when she ran away, otherwise I would have spoken to her and we would have discussed a way to save her honour."
"That doesn't mean shit now though, does it? My mother is dead, and here I am, the product that came from you fucking my mother, alive and kicking while she's been long dead in the ground." Those tears that she wiped away so quickly suddenly came back full force and she was crying hard now. "If it wasn't for you, my mother would still be here and she would have been happy-she would have been alive." She paused, sucking in a deep breath into her eight-year-old body, "It's all your fault that I'm here. It's all your fault that I'm alive and she isn't and I-I-I-"
By this point, Emmanuelle was a heap on the floor, a sobbing mass of mucus and tears who couldn't move from her position. Maybe she was tired, or perhaps it was because of the emotional exhaustion that caused it, but all she knew was that she was so tired. Was it wrong of her to think that way? That not even living in this life if it meant her mother was alive would have been a good thing? What was so bad about it anyway? It would have been better for her mother's sake if she didn't exist, and maybe everyone else's too.
"Don't say that," Prince Oberyn's hand rested on her back. "You deserve to be here."
"I-I-I just said that out loud!" Her eyes widened and she cried even harder this time. As she cried, she didn't realize that the prince picked her up and held her, putting her head on his shoulder while he held her in his arms as she cried herself to sleep.
Prince Oberyn held her while she fell asleep and moved from his sitting position on the floor to place her in her bed. While he shifted her and put her under her blankets, her fists tightened around his neck, and he sighed, moving so that he could stay beside her. She carried herself like a woman grown, but he really needed to remind himself that she was still a child. Still a young little girl who, although she clearly displayed her independence and intelligence, still needed to be cared for. While they stayed under the blankets of her bed and his eyes started closing, he thought about how much he missed out on and how many mistakes he had made by not thinking of the consequences of his actions.
That night, Emmanuelle dreamt of her mother, of snow and cold, of the Three-Eyed Raven and the White Walkers.
The King-Beyond-The-Wall was dreaming of a world encased in white and overrun by the dead. He heard the call of a bird behind his head and turned around to see an elderly man trapped underground by tree roots. The old man opened his mouth but all Mance Rayder heard was-
CAW! A flap of wings overtook his vision and Mance was woken from his sleep instantaneously. He woke up to see a hawk sitting on his chest. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recalled the contents of his dream. It was a good thing he was gathering everyone from beyond the Wall. Those White Walkers were on their way, it was a warning from the Three-Eyed Raven.
He groaned as he rose off of the cold, hard ground and pushed the flap of his tent open and called his camp to gather together.
"My friends, when I was a much younger man, still living below the Wall, I heard the words of the great House Stark. Their words have always been 'winter is coming,' and never have they been truer. My kin, I have dreamed a dream, a message from the Raven, sent to us by the will of the Gods, has given us warning." He stared at the eyes of those in his camp, "the White Walkers will rise one day soon, perhaps they have already risen, but one thing is for certain: we must prepare for our journey south. We must send a message, a warning, or else the future of this world will be buried under layers and layers of death."
He heard their rallying cry and heard the caw of a bird land next to him. It was a raven with three eyes. Mance Rayder bowed his head to the raven and watched as it flew away, flying high and in the direction of the Wall. Mance turned his attention to his second in command.
"Tormund," he said, "find me two birds, something to write on and something to write with. I have a few messages to send."
That night he dreamed again.
Lord Eddard Stark fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of a world drenched in white.
.
Lord Jon Arryn fell asleep in the comfort of his bed, dreaming of a world covered in snow.
.
King-Beyond-The-Wall Mance Rayder slumbered and dreamt of a world overcome by death.
.
Princess Emmanuelle Martell dreamed of a world as cold and desolate as death was.
…
A loud CAW sounded from behind and-
.
Lord Stark turned around.
.
Lord Arryn turned around.
.
The wildling king turned around.
.
The bastard princess turned around
…
To see three people standing right there behind-
.
Him
.
Him
.
Him
.
Her
…
The Three-Eyed Raven cawed at them, perched on the branches of a heart tree.
It's time you all met.
…
Emmanuelle could only stare at the faces of men she heard about but never dreamed she would see. All she could ask was-
.
"Who are all of you?"
It came from the little girl who couldn't possibly be more than eight name days old. Eddard could only stare.
.
The little girl looked down awkwardly and fiddled with her shirt. "I suppose I'll start, since no one else is talking." Jon watched her eyes look at all of them.
.
"My name is Emmanuelle Martell," said the little girl with the yellow eyes. Mance Rayder watched this little child speak and could only stare as she seemed used to this dream. He glanced at the man to his left with the direwolf sigil.
"You," said Mance, "you are Eddard Stark."
.
"You," said the wildling man, "you are Eddard Stark."
Ned nodded at the man, "And you are?"
.
"I am Mance Rayder," said the King-Beyond-The-Wall.
Jon knew exactly who he was. This dream...was real. Ned was here.
.
"I am Jon Arryn," said the man in blue. Emmanuelle watched Ned Stark's eyes widen.
"Why are we here?" Eddard Stark asked the Raven.
.
"Can't you take a guess?" Said the little princess. "We're here in front of a heart tree and the Three Eyed Raven. All around us is the cold, the snow, the desolate wasteland that looks like the world after the White Walkers come. Can't you take a guess as to why you're here?"
Eddard Stark could only stare.
The little girl laughed. "It's because we are the only ones he has spoken to."
"And who is this 'he?'" Asked Jon.
"The Three-Eyed Raven," replied the king of the wildlings.
"Aye," said a new voice.
.
The scene shifted and the four were standing underground facing an elderly man wrapped in tree roots. Jon saw him struggle against his restraints and suddenly stop.
"You must forgive an old man," said the man. "Sometimes, I cannot help but hope that these would change, even in the world of my own manipulations. A long time ago, my name was Brynden, but alas," he sighed. "That time has passed."
"Three Eyed Raven," said the princess, "what do you suggest we do to prevent the White Walkers?"
.
Mance watched as the old man looked upon her with wise eyes.
"A war will be upon the world, a war waged by the dead, to conquer and kill; it will be the ultimate cold death and there will be few survivors. Before we fight this though, we must prepare for a war before then. It is indeed coming, and if it is not fought before the time the dead are upon us, there is little anyone can do to ensure universal survival."
Mance swallowed thickly, "What can we do?"
"Well," said the raven, "you, will be unable to do much for the time being, because the first war must be overcome in the Seven Kingdoms...but the rest of you, you must create a catalyst to start a war to finish as quickly as it starts." He turned to Jon Arryn. "It's time to wage a war against the lions and the stags. It's time to start a rumour and I suggest you begin as soon as you wake."
"Jon," said Eddard Stark, "what is he talking about?"
.
"The king has no legitimate children," the little girl answered in place of Jon.
"How do you know that?" He questioned her.
She smiled at him, "I have been acquainted with the raven for a long time. He speaks to me."
"Jon," said Ned. "Robert has no legitimate children?" His eyebrows rose near his hairline.
"None," Jon answered him quietly. "His grip on the kingdom is slacking too, what with the Greyjoy Rebellion. He is on his way to leading this kingdom into ruins and the Lannisters are benefitting from it."
"I am not so knowledgeable in Westerosi politics," said Mance Rayder, "but it seems that this war is inevitable."
.
"Yes," said Emmanuelle softly. "At this point, if this war does not happen, the world will be led straight into death."
The Three-Eyed Raven cleared his throat, "It is time for your correspondence to begin. Start the war, win the war and prepare."
And Emmanuelle-
.
And Eddard-
.
And Jon-
.
And Mance-
.
Opened her eyes to the morning light and her father sleeping right next to her.
.
Opened his eyes to see the worried eyes of his wife.
.
Opened his eyes to face a day filled with rumors and lies and struggles.
.
Opened his eyes to send a message to Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch.
…
It was time to face a new day. The war had no choice but to begin.
A/N:
You all make me feel so flattered! Seriously, your reviews are awesome :)
I thought that it would be interesting to put in perspective shifts while Jon, Ned, Emmanuelle and Mance were speaking to the Three-Eyed Raven because I feel like you can sort of imagine the different viewpoint shifts. Also, someone commented something about this story being solely a wish fic and y'know, it really is. And so is pretty much every other story on this site. Dude, if you think that writing fanfiction isn't writing wish fics about pre-existing stories/tv shows/whatever, you might need to rethink that.
Anyway, let me know what you think! Follow, favorite, review, and by the way, reviews are sexy, so whoever does review, y'all are super sexy.
Happy New Year!
Jax from planet JUKEBOX