A/N: So I think there will be 5-10 more chapters of pre-canon, and then we will jump into modified canon! I'm so excited!

Also, lol. I accidentally did years wrong and made Elios three years younger than he should have been in the prologue. He was supposed to be 7 when he died. I fixed the one chapter age wise, but lordy I confused myself. Haha! Sorry! I was like, uh, Katerina definitely should have been 20 when she died, not 17.

Disclaimer: I don't own Game of thrones. Never have, never will.

Amirina was dreaming again. And she was alone.

The area around her was Dorne. She knew it. She smelled the sea spray in the air and she observed it in the sand upon the ground. Yet the air was not inviting as she remembered. It was cold. Harsh and icy like that of the wind she had experienced in her other dreams. Dreams of sadness it seemingly occurred to her. None of the dreams she had of yet were happy. All were sad in some way. But why?

Amirina looked around her. Towers were scattered, a large city to her right at some distance. It seemed as though she was not in the middle of nowhere, but she had no real location. That was common in Dorne, as cities were close enough to be quick travels but far enough to leave quite the distance. It greatly perturbed her.

Crossing her arms to gather heat, Amirina began walking. She walked with neither purpose not direction. To her, it seemed as though she was not presented with the event unfolding before her. Instead, she was to come upon it. She had no qualms about that, however, as she rather enjoyed observing the scenery, while bland, it proved beautiful. So she walked, and walked, and walked.

Time seemed to cease to pass as she continued. Nothing was occurring and the landscape ceased to move with her. It was as if she was walking in place. Yet, she knew she wasn't. It was Dorne. Some parts seemed to never move past you, as the scenery could become repetitive. The clouds above her moved slightly and the sun still beat down as if it were real. She knew it wasn't. She knew it should be heat upon her shoulders instead of chills running across her flesh.

Then, Amirina heard it.

The sound of horses clipping their hooves against the rough dirt and sand filled her ears. She spun around and was faced with a group of perhaps five or six knights on horseback, all prepared to seemingly kill. The leader, the one at the front, wore armor as gold as gold could become, shining like a beacon in the Dornish sun. Amirina stood tall, assuming that they could run right through her and fail to injure her. She, of course, still shut her eyes as they stopped within a hairbreadth of her nose. She looked up and saw the horse staring right into her eyes.

It terrified her so suddenly that she jumped back slightly. The white horse seemed to snap from its daze then and turn to whinny at the other steeds. The leader swung from his horse, gracefully landing on his feet with dust exploding around his ankles. He proceeded to take his gold helmet off and shake his hair from the entrapment.

Once again, Amirina was faced the the golden locks of a man she had seen thrice now.

"It's too damnably hot here," he exasperated, his voice heavy from exhaustion.

Another man, seemingly a right hand, jumped from his own bay steed and discarded his helmet. "What do ya expect? It's Dorne. May as well be one of the Hells," he chimed, moving to stand next to the blond man.

The blond looked around, surveying the seemingly barren land. "I can't believe she lived here for so long."

"Well, she couldn't very well leave, now could she?" his companion joked slightly.

"No," he responded, looking down to the dirt and shuffling slightly, "no she couldn't."

The companion seemed startled for a moment, but he quickly recuperated and turned to face the other men. "Spread out! We've a lot of land to cover! Move!"

The blond nodded in appreciation towards his friend and seemed to gather his bearings. He took his helmet and attached it to a hook upon his saddle, patting his steed to ensure its cooperation. He then joined his friend and the two began to walk, Amirina following them in interest.

"Her husband sent out a raven to King's Landing," the leader began, his blue-green eyes scorching the earth before them.

"That's risky, Jaime."

"Yes, but coming here is far more of such a thing," Jaime spoke gravely.

The blond man looked so…defeated. He looked beyond hurt. He was, for lack of a better term, older than the man who stood next to him (and the man who stood next to him was nearing his midlife perhaps).

"Robert allowed us, you cannot claim this to be a risky feat," the older companion tried to rationalize. "Aye, we're in…enemy territory, but the Martells promised the Seven Kingdoms no harm after you killed Aerys. Doran is no fool."

"All Martells are fools, Barristan."

"No Jaime, you're a fool to believe such a thing," Barristan said, shaking his head slightly as they walked side-by-side. "Your lady…she is a Martell, is she not?"

"She is no Martell. She shares only the name, not the blood," Jaime defended harshly, as if he was offended by such a claim.

Things began to click within Amirina's head.

"By the Seven, Jaime-"

"No. Do not take me as a fool. If you cut her hand, she bleeds not the blood of the Rhoynar. She bleeds that of the First Men. She is no southerner. She is definitely no Martell.

"And don't give that damned look, Barristan. She's alive. I ensured it. She simply…she simply forgot to send a raven and she forgot the point of rendezvous. It's quite simple."

Barristan shook his head and took a deep breath. "You are still so young, Jaime. Do not encase yourself within denial so the pain lessens. The Rebellion was large and felt by all. She could have run into a pack or perhaps been hit by a stray arrow. It happens lad," he excused, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"She's. Alive."

The two continued on in silence then, Amirina's head spinning. Blood of First Men. Martell by name. Dead after the Rebellion (or so Barristan believed). A man who killed Aerys. Robert's Rebellion. Blond hair. Jaime…Jaime…

Amirina looked up with wide eyes and stared directly at the blond man. Jaime. It was Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. It was the man who ended the Rebellion. The man who killed King Aerys II Targaryen. A man who was looking for a woman of First Men blood but Martell by name.

A woman Amirina knew quite well…

"Set Jaime! See Barristan!" a voice cried out, loud and full of urgency. "We believe to have found something!"

Amirina turned quickly and followed the two men, who had turned probably even faster. Jaime briskly traveled to where they had heard the cry and Barristan was trailing him as best he could.

Her mind was racing. Her head was pounding. Her breathing was quickening. Her eyes wanted to not see what she expected to be there underneath a ragged bush that could hide possibly a horse. Her eyes rapidly closed and opened, hoping and praying for what she expected to not come to pass.

"Ser…I-"

The young knight did not get to finish what he was saying before he stepped aside. Behind him made Amirina nearly collapse.

A woman laid upon the forgotten dirt and orange sand. An outfit of camouflage donned her body: a plain dress and a hood. Her hand was clasped around something and the other hand…the other hand held onto another hand. A much, much smaller hand.

The woman…she lacked a head. And by the Gods did Amirina wish she could unsee it. The head laid a couple of feet underneath the bush, or had, as the young man had apparently pulled it from the bare twisted branches and set it next to her body.

The eyes were disturbing. Amirina could see the last bit of fear, desperation, hopelessness, and slight love hiding within the hazel orbs. Her skin was pale from death and freckles seemed to die out as well. Her mouth was slightly open still and the full lips that were once full of life, were pale from lack of it. And her hair…Gods, the way the dark brunette curls were tangled made Amirina pity the lack of care the woman experienced.

She had been beautiful and any man could see that, even in death. It made Amirina wish to cry out in pity and sadness. But her looks…her looks were what her-

"By the Seven…" Barristan mumbled, disgusted by the scene of a decapitated woman with a dead child clinging onto her hand.

"There's a second child…underneath…"

"Don't lad," the older man stopped him, his eyes closed out of sadness and disgust. "Don't show us."

He then turned to a stock-still Jaime, placing his hand on his shoulder. "Is it?"

The man only nodded slightly, a look of emptiness within his sea green eyes. Nothing resided there. Nothing would. His hand clenched and unclenched. A vessel protruded slightly from his skin. And his jaw clenched tightly, unforgiving in pain.

"What do we do with the bodies, ser?" the young knight asked, a pained look upon his face as he looked up to the older men.

"Take them back with us to King's Landing. Let her brother know what has befallen her and her children," Ser Barristan spoke softly, tired and worn from the image.

"No."

Barristan quickly turned his head to Jaime. "What?"

"Give her body back to her husband," he spat out, venom flowing from him. "Give him an urn of the dirt on which they perished. Let him live with that. Burn the bodies of the children on a marked pyre. They shall not pay for their father's crimes, so allow them rest with the Mother through their burning."

The young knight swallowed as if something were stuck in his throat. He nodded his head slowly and three other men joined him in gathering the two small children that they had seen. One was a boy, an ugly one at that, of around seven namedays. And the other was not much younger. Perhaps five or six at most. It was a girl, one that looked exactly like a man Amirina knew.

Jaime began to turn around but stopped. "Search for another boy, one much like the girl. He was her twin," he spoke lowly, his voice void of emotion.

He then turned fully and looked at the men, a panic suddenly filling his eyes. "Is there a babe?"

"Ser?"

"A babe. A girl, no more than perhaps…a year or two in age. Is there a baby girl?" His voice was frustrated, panicked, and full of terror.

The men searched for a second. "There is a young boy Ser, but no babe. Perhaps she was taken? Or perhaps the lady did not take her with?"

Jaime huffed and nodded, finally turning to go and retrieve his horse. Barristan only spoke to the men for a brief moment more before he walked back to Jaime's side.

"What is it with a baby girl? Why do you seem to be so concerned for her well being? I understand the woman, but, a child?"

Jaime sat silent as he reached his horse and pulled himself back into the saddle. He grabbed his helmet and settled it over his head once more. Before he set the grate over, he said:

"That girl is my daughter."

And Amirina sat there, unmoving like a statue of the dragons that once populated King's Landing. Her eyes were large and her mouth slightly gaping. The air was ice cold and Amirina could feel snow start to grace her chicken-fleshed skin. Her body began to shake uncontrollably. Chills and sobs began to rack her being and Amirina knew not what to do. An unsteady hand began to reach towards her widening mouth. Her body began to fall back slightly, and her knees buckled.

Her weight pulled her to the ground and she fell upon her knees. Her eyes began to redden and salty warmth burned her cheeks. A heart-crushing realization hit her in the chest like a poisoned arrow, the toxin searing its way into her bloodstream and burning her body. She clutched at her chest with one hand, her mouth with the other. Her mind pounded against her skull and she lacked anything but tunnel vision that narrowed in on the body of a woman.

The body of Katerina Martell. The body of her mother.

"I will alert Lord Eddard and Lady Cat of Amirina's illness," Maester Luwin spoke softly.

Jon had brought his cousin to the Maester, awake before anyone else could rise. He had stayed in her room that night, having fallen asleep on the rocking chair she so desperately enjoyed finding comfort in. The two had danced well into the night and Jon remembered steering her clear of Willas Tyrell's presence far too many times. Robb had cut in every so often, but Rina came back to Jon every time, claiming "one last dance". And he had caved every time.

It wasn't until everyone began to tire from the night's festivities that Rina wished to retire as well. She said her goodbyes and had Jon escort her to bed, ignoring the whispers that followed. Word had spread of what occurred that morn and Rina could care less. Rumors meant nothing to her. She wished for him to read her a few stories, like they used to. She said, "I don't have the book you gave me, but we can make do with this". It was a history tome on the Targaryen dynasty. She rather enjoyed it and Jon, while finding it semi-interesting, had fallen asleep some time after she had, as she had been lying in bed while he sat in the chair.

He woke up to her crying in her sleep and sweating beyond normality. Instead of running into another accident for people to whisper of, Jon scooped up his cousin within his arms and dashed as quickly as he could to the Maester's tower. And within minutes, Jon had perhaps saved Rina's life. Luwin has given her some milk of the poppy to calm her down and put her into a deep sleep, hoping it would help to rouse her from her fever dream. He said she was so warm, he could have cooked an egg upon her skin. Whether it was poor humor or with all serious intent, it worries Jon greatly. Her body shook with ghostly chills and her sweat was freezing to the touch, yet her skin was burning with heat.

"Do not worry, Jon Snow," Luwin comforted carefully and quietly. "She is a Stark and Martell. She is strong and simply has come down with quite the fever, she will survive such an endurance. It will not be painless, but it will not kill her. She will need time, and an abundance of it. But she will heal."

Jon nodded and chose to stay there with her. He would stay there by her side until Catelyn requested he leave.

Jon opened his eyes, a pain throbbing in his neck. He groaned and reached up, rubbing at the tense spot. Lifting his head, his vision adjusted slowly to the scene before him. Amirina laid peacefully under the furs that were keeping her chilled body warm. Luwin stood in the corner, his voice quiet and patient. Before him stood Jon's father and Lady Catelyn. He had wondered when they would be able to arrive; apparently they had taken some time, as Jon had enough time to fall asleep and grow a cramp in his neck.

He went to stretch and realized something was holding onto his right hand. Jon looked down and realized that Amirina's hand lightly held onto his own, as if using him as a stuffed animal that a child holds at night. He gave a small smile and lightly moved his hand from her own, doing his best to not disturb her.

"Don't worry, young man," the wistful voice of Luwin spoke.

Jon looked up and noticed the trio staring at him. Luwin looked on with appreciation. Ned as well, in fact, shared the look, but Catelyn looked on with poorly hidden disdain in those cold blue eyes.

"She's under the influence of the poppy. She can't feel a thing at the moment," Luwin informed him, beginning to walk over to the girl. He crossed the short distance and placed his hand upon her forehead. "Her fever is breaking, I believe."

Jon gave a small sigh of relief and began to stand so he may stretch and take his leave, as that was what he was prepared to do once Catelyn arrived.

"Jon," his father said quietly, "thank you for…for caring for your cousin."

Jon only nodded his head, quite tired and not wishing to deal with the rude berating of Catelyn Stark. He began to move the chair he had taken rest upon but was stopped once more.

"May I ask that you stay with her for a while longer?" Ned asked, his voice grave and full of fatigue. "We must…write her father and discuss some things, and you've done quite well with her already."

"I believe the boy could be of use to me anyways," Maester Luwin said kindly, causing Ned to bow his head in gratitude before he turned to leave.

Jon looked over at Catelyn and watched her nostrils flare slightly, but that was all she did. No comment. Not looks. Just the nose. And then, she had turned to leave with her husband.

He smiled to himself and began to sit back down, but Luwin interrupted him.

"Oh no, boy. I was not telling tales when I said you may be able to help me," the old maester laughed slightly, moving over to his table of herbs and various natural remedies. "Your cousin has been bitten by the cold and I need assistance with creating the poultice necessary to save her flesh."

"She received a cold burn?" Jon asked inquisitively, moving to stand opposite to Luwin.

"Aye." He nodded, grabbing a few leafy sprigs. "It appears she has been bitten on her shoulder. Strange though, would you not believe? Her shoulder. By old and new how she managed such a feat."

Jon raised an eyebrow and looked back at his cousin. Luwin was right. How in the hells did she managed to be burnt by cold on her shoulder? It normally attacked the fingers and toes before anything else. Then the knees and elbows and nose. The rest of her was normal. What had she done?

"It's raised rather odd as well," Luwin mused, more so to himself but loud enough for Jon to hear. "No matter. I shall ensure she heals within the next few days. She shall be fully recovered within the fortnight."

Jon looked back at Luwin, his eyebrows furrowed and mind questioning. It was odd to him. Her face was normal. There was a sheen of cold sweat forming, but her skin seemed normal, perhaps a bit more pale as he could see her freckles more clearly. Her lips were lightly parted and her face relaxed. Her chest rose and fell with a smooth rhythm. She seemed…normal. Yet, she had a burn from the cold upon her shoulder and she was having intense fever dreams it seemed. It all seemed rather odd.

Jon walked back over to Luwin and looked down at the poultice bowl filled with shreds of onion. "Onions?" he asked, surprised by the choice.

Luwin nodded his head and reached for a few sprigs of lavender. He pinched his fingers on the end of the stem and pulled down, letting the purple flowers fall into the bowl. "It works. I add lavender so it may smell more..." he paused for a moment, "appeasing."

He did this twice more and Jon watched with attentive curiosity. "What is it you wish for me to do?" the young boy asked, anxious now that he had done nothing to help.

"Warm the embers and ensure there is water in the pot."

Jon nodded and walked over the the pot and dying wood. He grabbed the flint and reinvigorated the dying flakes of flames. The fire took in the air and quickly began to come back to life once more. He stood and looked inside the pot, pleased to see it more than halfway full with unused water.

"It's nearly full with water," Jon said, letting the maetser know. He turned to look at him and saw the older man bent over the table, grinding the lavender and onion inside of the poultice bowl.

Luwin didn't even turn when he spoke. "Good. Retrieve ten sage leaves from the drawers to your left. They're labeled, don't fret. Place those in a cup and when the water is warm enough, pour enough in to fill the cup. Let the leaves sit for a few moments as you warm some cloth in the water. Don't burn it. Just soak the cloth in the hot water. Then take the leaves out with a rod to your right."

Jon blinked, absorbing as much information as he could. Cups. Leaves. Sage leaves actually. Then steep those in the hot water. Put a cloth in the hot water. Remove leaves from cup with rod.

Turning to face back to the operation at hand, Jon searched for cups. His dark grey eyes, however, could not detect them.

"To your right, one drawer down."

Nevermind.

Jon bent down and opened the drawer indicated. Pleasantly, he found a small cup. He set it upon the counter and began to search for the sage leaves necessary. He turned to his left and began looking through the assortment of leaves the maester kept. There was a multitude of jars and dishes of different herbal and medicinal leaves, yet he couldn't seem to find sage. Large leaves…labeled, he thought to himself. It took him a moment, as he realized he had passed over them. Breathing a sigh, Jon grabbed the jar and took out ten of the leaves. He set the jar back and placed each leaf inside of the cup.

Jon then looked around and found a thin piece of fabric. He lifted it up and turned to Luwin. "Would this work?"

The maester looked up and nodded his head. "That'll do, Jon."

Jon turned back to his assigned task and set the cloth upon the counter. He grabbed a pouring cup and filled it to transfer it to the tea cup. Carefully, Jon poured the hot water into the cup and watched the large sage leaves rise as the water level rose. Steam rose in the cool air and Jon smelled the strong scent of sage rising with it.

Jon then grabbed the cloth and set it in the pot, allowing it to become soaked with the hot liquid.

"Your father now has quite the predicament in his hands," Luwin started, causing Jon to raise an eyebrow.

"How so?" the young Snow asked.

Luwin carried the poultice bowl over to the counter and added a dash or two of some last herb. "Your cousin managed to garner the attention of a certain Umber last eve. He's rather…"

"Enraptured?" Jon offered, using a metal hook to get the cloth out of the water.

Luwin chuckled then, "Yes. Enraptured would be the term I assume fits your father's description."

Jon then carefully laid the cloth on the stone counter and watched as Luwin poured some leftover water from the pouring cup into the poultice bowl, mixing the concoction one last time.

"She's to be betrothed to Willas Tyrell," Jon said, confused by how this could be such a predicament. "A lot of men are fond of my cousin, that doesn't mean anything."

Luwin nodded his head as if Jon was right. "You are correct, young Snow. However, it seems as though the rose's little sister believes the match to be…futile. She approached your father this morn to rescind the offer until further notice," he said matter-of-factly.

"So the Smalljon will now make his own offer…" Jon realized, now discarding the leaves from the tea.

"And it is supposedly a far more favorable one. The Martells are not fond of the Tyrells, and the Umber family is closer to here than Highgarden is. Your father will favor it, and I don't doubt that her own will as well."

Luwin began placing the poultice on the cloth, spreading it carefully so it could cover more area. He placed another cloth over it and motioned for Jon to grab the cup of tea.

"I'm going to need your help with applying this on her shoulder," the old man spoke softly as the two approached the sleeping girl. "The burn is on the back of her shoulder. So we will need to lay her upon her belly to let the poultice to do its job."

Jon stayed silent, not knowing if there were any other way to allow the medicine to work. He was no maester, he had no experience. He would only help the man as best he could and do as what was instructed of him.

Luwin set the cloth down on a bedside table and Jon did the same with the tea. The Snow then moved to the other side of the bed and looked at the maester of Winterfell. The elder man nodded and the two bent over lightly, grasping Amirina's body as gently as they could. They managed to move her onto her side and then onto her front. Luwin tilted her head to the right, so she wouldn't be facing the poultice. It probably would wake her with the strong scent in her face, and that was the last thing they needed.

Luwin grabbed the wrapped medicine and pulled Amirina's night-dress sleeve back. Thankfully, it was a thin strap and wasn't too in the way of things. And Jon got a good look at the burn. It was oddly shaped, as the maester had stated before. It was almost like something had…grabbed her lower than one would normally grasp another's shoulder. It was rather strange, but Jon did not have the privilege of looking upon it much longer, as Luwin put the cloth on it. He adjusted the cloth accordingly and Jon could hear a hissing from the hot water and medicine mixing with the burn wound.

He flinched slightly and watched as Luwin began to wrap thin and long cloth over the poultice cloth and around her shoulder. The second cloth would help to ensure the poultice didn't move from the spot of significance. Jon couldn't help but begin to find the art of medicine interesting. It gave…power. It gave one the ability to decide the fate of one person. Jon never had that, not as a bastard. But medicine…oh, it could give him that. Where name fell weak, an art would be there to make up for it.

Jon was about to ask a question regarding learning the art, but a nearly silent sentence escaped Amirina's mouth. He looked down with wide eyes at his cousin. Quickly, he sat down in his chair and leaned close to her face, hoping she would whisper once more in her sleep. But he had no such luck.

"Why milk of the poppy? Why not essence of nightshade?" Jon asked suddenly, looking up at the old man who looked down at Amirina quizzically.

"She was in pain. Nightshade allows drowsiness to overcome a patient and push them into sleep. Poppy, however, relieves the patient of their pain and forces them to sleep," he informed Jon, walking over to a flask that had a white liquid inside of it.

"Your cousin's illness is quite strong; it is why she spoke softly. The poppy is wearing off it appears." He took the topper off of the flask and poured a little bit into the sage tea. "Place this by her face. The steam will waft and hopefully work in both ways necessary. If she wakes, calm her and give her the tea to drink. I will be back. I have lessons to teach your brothers."

And with that, Luwin floated out of the room, leaving Jon with Amirina's sleeping form.

The young bastard looked over at the closing door and then looked down upon his cousin. Her breathing seemed normal, despite Jon thinking it to be hindered by her position. Sweat still formed at her brow but not at the pace it had been. Her features were relaxed and she seemed content in her sleep.

Her right hand laid next to her face, and Jon thought that perhaps holding it would ease her pain as well. He had seen many do it before when a loved one was ill. The comfort of not being alone helped soothe the aches of illness. So, he grabbed ahold of her hand, squeezing it just enough for her to know he was there. He didn't care if she was in a deep sleep, he just wanted her to know.

Using his other hand, he placed the cup as close to her face as possible so it wouldn't fall. And then, he just sat there, looking at her.

As he sat there, those thoughts he had pushed back began to rise up again. That jealousy that he would lose his cousin again to someone else. First, it had been the threat of Robb. Robb had everything. He got everything he wished for. Amirina was their cousin, yes, but Jon wanted her to be his best friend. Hells, she was his only friend at times. And no matter how hard Robb tried or in what ways he looked at her, Jon was always Amirina's first priority.

Then there was Willas Tyrell, the wilted rose. Jon couldn't help but become ecstatic that the man would not marry his cousin. The Smalljon would request for her hand too quickly for the Tyrells to change their minds. If he ever met the Tyrell's younger sister, he would thank her for her decision. He couldn't imagine Amirina going to Highgarden and being a snake among roses. She was too…northern for that. Jon knew that she definitely had Stark in her, simply by the way she acted. And no wolf was a friend of flowers. She would also be too far to regularly visit. She would be caged up in Highgarden with no friends or family to spare. He tried to convince himself that he was thinking on her behalf and not his own.

And the Smalljon. Jon wondered if Amirina would be able to contend with the giant of a man. But with everything she described last eve, she seemed to be able to handle him quite well. The Umber man became entranced by her with one meeting, and that wasn't a surprise for Jon. His cousin was exotic in the North. She was everything most northern lords would never have. Perhaps that was the most dangerous part of her life but Jon had faith that she would be just fine with the far northern man. He hadn't heard awful things of him and he was close by. They would be able to visit quite a bit.

Yet, something still plagued the back of Jon's mind. He couldn't quite place a name to it, but he knew it was there. He knew that it whispered in his ear as he stared upon his cousin. It gnawed at the back of his skull like an incessant rat. He felt it too. He felt it in his chest and within his being. He just couldn't place a name to it. It came up whenever he sat in silence with his cousin. It came up whenever he stared at her. It was beginning to approach him at all times. The day they had gone to pray after her father left her. The day she had sparred with him after receiving the news of possible betrothal to Willas. The day they went to the hot springs with Arya, Bran, and Rickon. The day when he found the claw for her. The day he found her quivering in her furs in her sleep. Her nameday feast. And today. All days he felt that gnawing at the back of his mind.

He just couldn't find the name for it.

A/N: Ahh! Well, this chapter was a work in progress for quite some time. We got some plot twists in there, that maybe ya picked up earlier in the chapters or just found out now! And that's all up to interpretation. It's not for certain…or is it? If anyone needs clarification on timeline, I can help. It is quite confusing at a lot of points, but I figured it out.

Anyways, a lot of stuff happening now. Don't worry about Willas y'all! He'll be back. And this is super important if ya remember what happens with weddings. No spoilers. Chapters will come out more quickly now, as I have this pre-cannon stuff now fully organized. Thank you all for the love and support and I hope you all continue to love and support this!

Love,

P

aryan778: Thank you for the review! And yes, well that seems to be settled now! Sort of. Kinda. That whole event will have more effect later on in the story!

Arianna: Your reviews always make me smile, lol. Sadly, Jon and Rina won't be together for some time, as Game Of Thrones never lets that happen does it? And don't worry, both will be addressed accordingly :)

HPuni101: I love your reviews! Thank you so much for the kind words and your continued support! Hope you enjoy this!

BigWilly526: My main concern for canon is the events. Most of those will stay the same. A lot of characters and their emotions will change due to Amirina being there, but a lot of events will stay the same. It will be a modified canon, but not AU really. I hope that clears up why I'm worried about canon.

maartenvervloet: Oh god no. Too many stories do that. Viserys won't matter in this story, as Amirina would never possibly meet him due to his death and the fact that she'd probably kill him if she met him. And Joffrey would never survive with Amirina lol. Tommen is too good a person too. He deserved better. Thanks for the review!

guest: Willas is a better character than the Smalljon, but Umber provides a much more interesting arc due to us knowing how awful he is. Thank you for the review!