A/N: Welcome, newcomers! I'll be honest, I don't update as much as I should and I sincerely apologize for having not updated earlier, but, like, writer's block is a real bitch...and the flu. And a lot of things…

I don't own anything~

Song: Hawaii (Stay Awake) by Waterparks

"Do you hear yourself?"

Emmanuelle bowed her head, "I understand I sound foolish, I'll admit it, but-"

"Pah!" Spat her uncle.

"-I assure you, it is no lie." She lifted her gaze to meet her father's eyes, looking at her as though she was a fool. "The White Walkers are coming, and I know that these words come from stories, but I promise you, I'm not the only one who knows about it!"

Now at nine years in the year 290 AC, Emmanuelle was just as resilient and stubborn as ever. Her ninth name day passed without any problems but the ever-present threat of the White Walkers. She had been in a correspondence of sorts with Lords Stark and Arryn, and they decided it would be best to wait for a year or two before they made any move against King Robert and the Lannisters. At the moment, they were all trying to sort out their future plans, including figuring what would be the best sort of material to use against the White Walkers. Of course there were enough tomes at Winterfell to find stories, but only Stark had access to those. Lord Arryn was experiencing difficulty coming across anything at the Red Keep and needed to sleep with one eye open, but he wrote if he found anything, he would write immediately. Emmanuelle potentially had contacts at the Citadel who could provide her with such information, but she needed access to the books to find anything, which was what she was discussing with Oberyn and Doran.

Leaning on his arm, Prince Oberyn watched as her fists clenched and unclenched. "Who else knows?"

"It was-it was in my dream."

"A dream?"

"Yes," she said. "I dreamt of a world covered in snow and ice. I was there, and so was the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, and the Northern lord, Eddard Stark. And the wildling king, Mance Rayder!" She saw their faces, how they looked ready to tell her she was a fool. "I promise, I'm not lying to you." She grit her teeth.

Prince Doran barked a laugh. "I need some sort of proof before I can believe you."

Emmanuelle swallowed thickly. "I don't know if I can give you real proof like that, not physical proof anyway."

"Child," he shook his head, "I can't just trust your word on some silly dream. It's a dream, it was not real. And so what? What happens now that you've told me this?"

"I am expecting a letter to arrive soon, someday soon. I have been writing to the Citadel," she said hastily. "And I have letters from Lord Stark and Lord Arryn!"

"You are nothing but a child."

"But a child they trust! A child who studied there, who the Three-Eyed Raven spoke to!"

Prince Oberyn looked her in the eye, "And what then? Daughter, you are a child, and you dreamed a dream that seemed real enough to start believing it was true."

"I'm a little girl they believe," she said fiercely "and it is true! They'll trust me. I'll send letters, and when I get their responses, that should be enough, shouldn't it?"

"We'll see," said Prince Doran. "But for now, your request has been denied."

Well, she thought, at least she had Wren.

"Maester Luwin," called out Lord Stark in the Library Tower of Winterfell. "Do you remember seeing this before?"

The old maester hobbled over, bringing the text closer to his face. "I think I may have seen something similar earlier today."

It had been two weeks since the dream and Lord Stark didn't waste any time trying to find references to the White Walkers or anything that might explain how to defeat them. His wife thought he had gone mad with all his sudden ramblings after he woke up, Maester Luwin was a little concerned, but Old Nan believed him, although that was probably because she was on the verge of going mad too. These new developments had him more occupied than he had been for a while, keeping him away from his family. He hardly had any time to spend with Robb or Jon, and Sansa became clingy because she hardly saw him. He saw Arya and Bran, but they didn't necessarily recognize him yet as they did with Cat considering they were both infants. In short, it was taking a toll on his familial life.

"Would you bring it here?" Ned inspected the tome in front of him, skimming through the pages. This was an almost impossible task, but if any place was going to have any tale or shred of evidence, anything that could reference the White Walkers, it would more than likely be at Winterfell. Or at the Citadel. "And when you have a moment, I need you to bring me my seal, parchment and an inkwell."

The last letter he received from the Princess Emmanuelle did not seem promising, as she explained that her father and uncle thought her explanation of the Three-Eyed Raven was all a product of childish fabrication. Jon was hardly better off, since the Red Keep was, in Jon's words, "a snake infested pit." Five days before, a wildling messenger of Mance Rayder crept into the Godswood waiting for Ned, and apparently, Mance already started to unify the different free-folk clans together. Ned handed the messenger a long piece of parchment in order to update Mance about his, Jon's and the princess' current statuses.

The maester placed an old, dusty text in front of Lord Stark, coughing as he brushed the dust off the cover.

"Of course," said Maester Luwin, walking towards the door.

"And a quill while you're at it!"

"Archmaester Norren!" A young scholar was running towards the archmaester, a note in his hand and scrolls tumbling out of his arms.

Said archmaester turned around with raised eyebrows

"Archmaester Norren!"

"Yes, Martyn?" He asked.

"You-you have a letter," Martyn panted. "From the North. Lord Stark sent it."

"Thank you, Martyn," he took the note and inspected it. "Off you go, I have a number of things to attend to." Which he would take care of later, but Martyn didn't need to know that. What could Lord Stark possibly have written him about anyway?

He hobbled away as he tore the seal and then opened the letter inside.

"Archmaester Norren," he read. "My intention isn't to make you laugh or call me a fool, but the time has come and the North calls upon the Citadel for specific research on a myth. I don't believe in them myself, but the by the Old Gods, I have been sent a sign that the White Walkers will come back to walk this land again…"

"Oh. Oh my."

Well, this was rather important. He already received a similar letter from Emmanuelle with a request to continue her studies, but now there was another source to reinforce her dreams. How many people did this affect?

Now where was that rat-bastard Merwyn, anyway? He was always reading up on some sort of folklore, so who better to ask than Merwyn?

"Merwyn?" Norren walked through the doors of the great library towards the lore section. "Merwyn? Merwyn, it's rather urgent and I'd appreciate it if you could-" He heard a muffled noise over towards the end of a row of books. Walking down the row, he noticed a massive pile of books at the end, completely toppled over, and a hand peeking out from the pile.

"Merwyn, is that you?"

He heard a muffled groan and then a 'yes.' Rolling his eyes, he pulled book after book away from the pile until the other Archmaester could easily rise from his place.

"I appreciate that," said Merwyn, brushing off his robes and fixing his chains. "I got lost in all my findings-"

Norren rolled his eyes.

"-and all of a sudden, a mountain of books all fell on me! Can you believe that? Of course you can, because…"

Archmaester Norren held a hand up, causing Merwyn to trail off mid-word. "Not to cut you off, but I received a raven from the North, and I don't believe I can help Lord Stark on my own. Perhaps you would like to have a look at the letter yourself."

Archmaester Merwyn took the letter from Norren and held it to his face and inspected it closely, eyebrows raising high on his forehead. "And this is from Lord Stark, you say?"

Norren nodded his head. "I received a similar one from little Emmanuelle recently as well."

"Well then," Merwyn scratched his chin, "it seems that while we will be taken away from our studies, we have some important work cut out for us."

"But do you believe it?"

"Norren, my old friend," said Merwyn sighing heavily, "I would be a fool not to. Perhaps it's time to bring Emmanuelle back too."

Norren could only nod in agreement.

Jon Arryn was having a tough time, and that was putting it rather lightly.

Robert was a barbaric fool, and his wife, Jon was convinced, was a witch. Well, not a real witch...more like a metaphorical witch who may or may not eat children. His only ally at the moment was, well, no one. He had absolutely no allies in King's Landing, and the only person he could rely on was himself.

That was what he thought until Lord Varys decided to come out from the shadows (literally) and speak with him about the future of the realm.

"You and I both know something needs to change, Hand." Varys cornered Jon, rather literally, when Jon was in his bedchamber. As Jon was looking over his correspondences with Emmanuelle Martell and Ned, the Spider opened a passage and walked directly into his room. Needless to say, Jon was spooked and it did no good for his aging heart.

"Yes," he swallowed thickly, "I know."

"Lord Arryn, might I presume that you're looking for a solution?"

Jon raised an eyebrow at Lord Varys' odd phrasing. "A solution for…?"

"To be blunt, I think we both know Robert is not doing the Seven Kingdoms any favors, and I am a man who only wants the best for the realm." Said man was clasping his hands together, pacing around Jon's bedchamber.

"...and your point?"

Varys breathed for a moment and paused. "I'd like to work with you to achieve this goal, and according to my little birds, I hear that you have three other conspirators, oddly enough including the newest princess of Dorne and Lord Stark."

"Are you threatening to oust us to the king or are you willing to work with us?"

Varys smiled, tapping his finger against his cheek, "Why would I admit to you that I believe Robert should be permanently removed if I was going to threaten you?"

"Well then," Jon said, "With your little spy network, this should go rather smoothly." He held his hand out to shake Lord Varys'. "I'm sure the Three-Eyed Raven will be pleased to have you on our side."

Varys' eyebrows rose very high on his very bald head.

Queen Cersei Baratheon was far from stupid.

Intelligent and cunning, she brought herself into the meetings of men lest she be forgotten and thought of as only a breeding mare. With a short temper and a thirst for power, she sometimes saw fear in the eyes of the men and women she spoke to, all wary of offending their queen and seeing just how she would act against them. Truthfully, that pleased her. It was good to know that she was someone people were wary of, someone who could strike them down.

She now had two beautiful children, her son, Prince Joffrey already had his fourth nameday, and she had recently given birth to her beautiful Myrcella. They both had her and Jaime's golden hair, thank the gods, because if they were Robert's she honestly would have thought about killing them. Discreetly, of course. If she had Robert's...spawn, she was convinced she would become violently ill. Luckily for her, she had Jaime, and no one suspected anything.

Or so she thought.

She recently noticed Jon Arryn's gaze on her children, watching them carefully as if he was inspecting them for some specific reason. Every so often, his eyes would dart between them, Cersei and Robert, and Cersei, well, needless to say that Cersei was worried.

He wasn't the only one who seemed to be speculating something about her children, though. It seemed that Stannis Baratheon was highly suspicious of them too. She inquired to Lord Varys if he his little birds knew anything, but he smiled at her and shook his head, asking why in the world she would assume anyone was plotting something against her of all people. Obviously she did not believe him.

Mayhaps it was time to pen a letter to her father.

"I need to go." She grit her teeth.

"No." The unwavering response.

Emmanuelle gaped at the stony faces of her grandfather, her uncle and Prince Oberyn. How could they possibly say no after she showed them the letters from the Citadel, Lord Stark and Jon Arryn? "But-but why?" She sputtered in disbelief. "Just how much more do you need for me to go?"

Prince Doran leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Emmanuelle, let someone else do this-"

"You can't!" She insisted. "I'm telling you as I have been telling you, I know what to look for, I know the Citadel and I am the one they trust, so why can't you trust me?"

"He cannot trust you," said Lord Santagar, "because it does not seem like a likely truth. Now, before you interrupt me," said he continued at the sight of Emmanuelle immediately opening her mouth to retort, "let me tell you, I have already lost my Sasha. If these White Walkers are really making a return, and the Three-Eyed Raven truly spoke to you, how could we want you, a child of these families, to rush into that danger? What exactly will you be looking for? When will you go and for how long, and when will we know that the White Walkers are coming? And don't tell me that you know nothing of some sort of….of eventual war in the Seven Kingdoms. It was obvious from your correspondences that there will be one." He glanced towards Prince Doran, "apologies, my Princes, I know I should not have put words in your mouths."

Prince Doran held up a hand. "No, you're right. By the looks of it, there will be a war."

Prince Oberyn's posture tensed and he straightened his back. "Yes, and on the topic of this war, it is best that you have nothing to do with it. You're a child, so stay a child while you still can. It's better this way."

Emmanuelle's eyebrows drew in close as the frown on her face deepened. "I don't need to be directly involved in the war, I just need to use my resources to find a way to-"

"Bullshit," Prince Oberyn stood up to walk around the room, "your words mean nothing and don't think I am stupid, Daughter. I can read the implications of your words, you have already started planning."

"Emmanuelle," sighed Prince Doran, "we do not need a new war. We do not need bloodshed. War is not something Dorne needs and for this House to be involved, my dear, that is something that I and I am sure my brother too, would like to avoid."

She furrowed her brow. "Even if this war is started because of the Lannisters?"

Oberyn looked at his brother with raised eyebrows, ready to speak out.

"Yes," said Prince Doran, "even if it was the fault of the Lannisters, I do not believe we need this war."

"Fine," she glared at them. Openly. Let them see that she was angry, she thought, let them see her enraged all because they forbid her from preventing the world from turning into ice. She stomped out and the inhabitants of the room began to discuss.

...

"Are you're telling me you want to run away?" Wren was now ten and nine name days old, definitely a man grown by now, which made her wonder why he always stuck with her.

"Yes, I do."

"I'm not sure if that's such a wise decision, considering that the last time you tried to do that-wait, the last three times you tried to do that, it failed miserably."

"Well, maybe I won't fail this time." She threw her hands in the air. "Wren, the world is in danger, I can't just sit back and watch people die, not when I can actually do something to prevent it."

He sat still for a moment, "I understand...and I do believe you."

She perked up, "You do?" He nodded. "And you're going to follow me? Why?"

"Well, it's not like I have anything better to do…" she punched him in the arm. "I'm kidding, Ellie, you know that. You're my leader and I'm your follower, and we have a bond. I'll be with you right to the very end, I promise."

She sniffled and her eyes teared up as she leaned over to hug Wren. "I promise I will never leave you or doubt you, even for a moment." Releasing him, she sat straighter. "Now we need to think about what to do to get out of here though."

"What about if we went through the tunnels into the gardens and then went out the left side gate of the Old Palace? That should work well enough, shouldn't it?"

"Well, maybe if-"

"That would never work." A voice interrupted them and their heads whipped around immediately. Slowly, Ellaria Sand walked into the room. "Apologies for sneaking up on you, but if you were going to conspire together to escape, you ought to find a better place to discuss your plans"

Emmanuelle blushed. "And what would you suggest?"

"Since you asked," smiled Ellaria slyly, "I can smuggle you to the port, and a friend of mine can take you to the Citadel. Tonight, pack only what you need, both of you, and I will take you through the back courtyard and we will ride to the docks. There you will meet a man named Shar Han-and do not comment on his appearance or else he might throw you off his ship."

Emmanuelle looked warily at Ellaria, head tilting to the side and eyes narrowing. "Alright, that sounds smart, but what's in it for you? You don't like me, so why would you of all people help me?"

Ellaria chuckled, "You know, your aunt was right, you are too cheeky for your own good. It's a shame I don't like you more, perhaps we would have gotten along." Emmanuelle only stared. "Prince Doran is a fool who thinks a war will ruin Dorne, but I disagree. I think it will bring Dorne power….I will help you, but you're right. There is a price."

"And…?"

"We start over, a blank slate of sorts, but on good terms. If war is coming like you have speculated, then I'd prefer not to have an enemy in my home," Ellaria said. "And I hate the Lannisters." She added, "so any war waged against them will have me on your side."

Emmanuelle nodded her consent at that. "That sounds like a nice idea. What's the second? Surely that isn't the only price you want me to pay."

"Of course not," Ellaria waved her hand, "I am going to cut off your hair, and you are going to let me."

"And why would she do that?" Wren glared at her.

"Because who else can guarantee your safe passage out of Dorne directly to Oldtown?" Responded Ellaria simply. She inspected her nails waiting for Emmanuelle's decision.

"Fine." She nodded.

Ellaria's mouth curled into a smile. "Good. Now, come along."

Ellaria led them through the dark corridors to her empty quarters and brought Emmanuelle to sit at a vanity-like area. Emmanuelle sat stonily on the edge of a stool watching in the mirror as the shears cut through her long, beautiful hair. It wasn't only being cut though, it was being shaved off her skull, and Ellaria's price wasn't to be kind; it was to put her in a subservient and demeaning position. It was to humiliate her and put her at Ellaria's mercy and blade while all Emmanuelle could do was sit and watch as her hair tumbled to the floor.

"Are you pleased with yourself?" She asked Ellaria.

"Very. I get to see you bend to my will, in a manner of speaking."

"So I can tell," Emmanuelle said dryly.

She watched the final clumps of hair brush off her scalp and she bowed her head down. "If your goal was to make me feel shame, you succeeded."

"Good," said the woman. "Now we can call it even."

Four hours later, true to Ellaria's word, they left on Shar Han's trading vessel to Oldtown and eight hours later, Sunspear sent out a search party and came up empty handed save for a letter from Emmanuelle herself.

Alright, thought Prince Doran, so then this war would be inevitable. Fantastic.

Now all they had to do was wait for it and give little Emmanuelle the scolding of a lifetime. How exciting.

A/N: I meant to say, thanks to all of you who read this and follow this-honestly, I didn't think I'd really get any followers/favorites at all for this story. Sorry for the kind of shitty ending…?

I'll do my best to update sometime in May. Mind you, I'm a college student who still has finals so it'll take me a little bit. Until next time!

-Jax from planet JUKEBOX