Arya picked her way through the ruined gates of Winterfell. Her lips pulled back as she bared her teeth in rage. The wooden splinters and rocks cut her hands, but she could not feel anything but the rage.
"BRAN!" she screamed.
She finally made it into Winterfell and came to a dead stop. Silence fell all around her as she slowly turned in every direction. She saw many patches of red upon the white snow, but there were no bodies. The spots of blood and the broken walls of Winterfell were all that was left of the great battle. Human and undead bodies had vanished.
Arya looked out beyond the lands surrounding her home, over to where the sun climbed in the red-blood sky. There was nothing left. Only the blood patches. This knowledge sent a chill straight through her. She pushed the thought from her mind and ran towards the crypts.
There was no one in the crypts as she searched all the shadows and passageways she could think to look. Where had they gone? Had everyone died and joined Jon? This thought sent another chill up Arya's spine. Was she the last?
Shaking her head, she stormed from the crypts towards the Great Hall. When she got closer she could hear voices coming from within. Her rage grew the closer she came to those voices, for there was no doubt Bran would be in there.
She threw the Great Hall doors opened and stepped inside. Everyone turned towards her. Arya took in the scene before her, made contact with every pair of eyes. Some faces she knew. Others she did not. When she looked at Daenerys, the woman took a step forward, her eyes hopeful. Arya did not have enough time to explain to her Jon was gone when a voice called out to her.
"I am here."
Time stood still for Arya in the moments it took her to find his face. Bran sat beside the fire surrounded by Jamie Lannister, Tyrion Lannister and Samwell Tarly. Jamie was crying. Tyrion was in shock. Samwell looked upon her with haunted eyes. Arya saw none of this, for her eyes were only on one person.
She stormed into the room, daring anyone to get in her way, but as she passed no one dared tried to stop her. She limped towards Bran, blood pouring down her face, and as she came near him her hand came up and she slapped him as hard as she could. His head jerked to the side, a gasp of surprise bouncing all around her.
"You bastard!" she whispered.
Bran turned slowly back towards her, his face void of any emotion. Arya felt nothing but rage, felt nothing but hate, and she wanted him to suffer. She grabbed the Valyrian dagger and raised it above her head. Several things happened at once. There were screams. There was the weight of the dagger in her hand. There was the sudden movement of Bran reaching out and grabbing her free arm. The Great Hall disappeared.
Arya sucked in a breath, her vision blurring. Suddenly, she was blinded by the purest light she had ever seen. She threw her hands up to shield her eyes and noticed the dagger was gone.
"I need to show you something." Arya turned around, a gasp of surprise leaving her lips. Bran was there with her… standing.
"What did you do to me?" she cried, scared.
"I am allowing you to see what I see as the Three Eyed Raven. I owe you that much. Once you see what I have seen, and you still want to plunge the dagger into my chest, I will not stop you.
"How are you doing this!" Arya said, looking around at the bright light.
"You are a warg, though you have not really delved into what that means. You have had wolf dreams? You have warged into Nymeria before. You have the gift of our ancestors."
"Let me out!" She screamed, her fear growing.
"Not until you see," Bran responded.
Suddenly, the light came into focus, and Arya saw she was standing before a large forge. It was night time, and all around her the snow fell in massive flakes. She was surrounded by the undead army, yet this was not something that had just taken place. She did not recognize the forge as being one of Winterfell's. This place was different, foreign.
"Go inside," Bran said.
Arya's feet moved at his urging and she walked inside the forge. There was something moving on the floor, something that looked an awful lot like a Wright. She noticed the crown of ice upon his head and let out a soft moan. He had a long, white beard, and his blue eyes looked at two people standing over him. His hand reached for the man, but he stepped out of his way.
"I know what it is that I ask of you, my love. But, it is the only way. It will only work this way, for I have tried it many times and have failed."
"No!" A woman cried, wrapping her arms around the man.
Arya took a step towards the couple, her mouth hanging slightly opened. The man wrapped the woman in his strong arms, kissing the top of her head. She could see the tears in the man's eye. He shushed the woman's cries, but this seemed to make her cry harder.
"Death is at our door, my love. I can end this. I can save us all. It is my destiny, as it is yours."
"I can't!" The woman screamed against his chest. "I cannot lose you!"
"You will never lose me."
Arya watched the thing on the floor grab a hold of the man's leg. The man never responded, never let the woman go. Outside the forge, the undead began to wail and scream against the night. Arya covered her ears, their screams cutting her like glass.
The man picked something up from the anvil, and Arya felt the air in her lungs deflate. The man pushed the woman back, until she looked up at him. Her fearful eyes stared at him as her soft cries filled the forge. He laid the end of the dragonglass in her hand and pointed the sharp end at his chest.
"Do you love me?" He whispered.
"With all of my heart," the woman whispered back.
"Then, I will never leave you, my love. You can end this Long Night. I will take them back to their home and you will be safe. That is all that I want… please!" The man begged.
The woman tried to release the dragonglass, but he held her hand firmly on it. Arya saw the woman's eyes, saw she knew there was no other way. She saw the turmoil within her, and knew exactly how she felt. Arya knew what was asked of the woman and the heavy price it cost.
"I am dying, my love. I feel my soul leaving my body. I want you to do this for me. It's okay! This is what I want," he whispered. Arya noticed a large wound in his side. She watched his blood flow from his side down towards the ground. She noticed for the first time how he leaned heavily upon the anvil. His handsome face had paled even in the few moments she watched them.
"Take me with you," the woman begged.
"No!" he answered, harshly. He closed his eyes and breathed in a long breath before speaking again. "I want you to live. I want you to raise our babies and love them every single day. I give my life for you… for them."
The woman's hand shook against the dragonglass. Arya took another step, but Bran stopped her. He gently grabbed her arm and held her in place.
"You cannot help them, Arya. You are only here to watch."
The man kissed the woman, long and slow. With every touch their lips made he moved closer and closer to her. He gasped as the dragonglass cut into his chest, but he did not stop kissing the woman. She moved as well, moved so close to him until their bodies were molded as one. She moved towards him until her chest was against his. The dragonglass has disappeared inside him and pierced his heart.
Arya covered her mouth, swallowed the scream begging to come out, as she watched the man turn as Jon did. The undead thing on the floor let go of the man's leg and fell dead. The woman took a step back, her cries floating all around the forge. Her eyes were wide and haunted as she watched the man turn into the Night King right in front of her. Arya felt a sudden deja vu, for she had seen this before.
Just as Arya had done, she reached for the man, but he was already turned to leave. He left her screaming for him to come back to her. He left her screaming for him to forgive her. The man did not act as though he even heard her. By the time he made it to the door his transformation was complete. He stopped, his head slowly looking in Arya's direction. She took a step back, her eyes growing wide. She knew his face, had fought him only moments ago. This was his story… his origin.
His face began to fade, as did the forge around them, until they were standing back inside the bright light. Arya felt a cold creep upon her, felt as if she had never known the warmth of the sun.
"We were wrong about the legend. It was a lie passed down from one generation to the next, until it found its way to our generation. But, it had been wrong," Bran said, softly.
"Who was that," Arya whispered.
"Azor Ahai never plunged a sword in his wife Nissa Nissa's chest. It is true, they chose him as their Hero, to rid the world of the Long Night and the army of the Undead, but the legend was a lie."
"What?" Arya said with a gasp.
"I only realized the truth recently. The real story was that Azor Ahai made two swords that failed him. It was only in his third attempt that the truth made itself known. He needed to forge dragonglass. The sacrifice was not his wife's to make, but himself to make. Nissa Nissa was the true Hero, who saved her people from the Long Night. Lightbringer became the love between them that made it possible for her to do what needed to be done. Azor Ahai became the Night King and lead the army back to their home. That was the real story, what you just witnessed. The Night King that you and Jon defeated was the true Azor Ahai."
Arya fell to her knees at his admission. She had grown up with the story of Azor Ahai. To see the truth played out in front of her was devastating. It was a story so much like her own. Tears fell from her eyes at the gravity of the truth.
"A new sacrifice was needed, a new hero born. You became the Hero we needed to get us through the Long Night. The love between you and Jon created Lightbringer. Jon's sacrifice saved us all, as it did so many years before with Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa. History repeats its tragedy."
"Let me out of this," Arya cried, her hands shielding her eyes.
"There is more, sister," Bran said.
When Arya looked again she found herself in a familiar place. She jumped to her feet, grabbing for Needle, but she was not armed. Arya found herself in King's Landing standing before the Iron Throne.
"Why am I here?" She asked, angry.
"Look upon the Iron Throne, Arya."
She turned her head towards the tall figure sitting atop the Iron Throne. His hair was as black as night. His beard was shaved close to his strong and chiseled jaw. His chest was broad, his arms strong. This was a King to be feared… and to love. People came and went, paying homage to this king. He spoke to them with kindness and love, with a strong voice.
Arya took a few steps closer to get a better look at him. What she saw made her heart squeeze in her chest, had the tears blurring her vision again. He looked so much like Jon that it took her breath away. Even his voice sounded like Jon. Everything was familiar except his eyes. Those lavender eyes belonged to his mother… Daenerys.
"You said Jon would sit the Iron Throne," Arya whispered.
"His name is Jon Targaryen, the First of His Name. Jon Snow's real name was Aegon Targaryen. The man you see before you is Jon's son. He will bring about a peace that which has never been seen in Westeros before. He will be a good and just King. The people will love him, and he will be known as Jon the Loved. This is what your sacrifice bought."
"You lied to me," Arya said, slowly turning towards Bran.
"I never lied," he said, low. He was standing right beside her, and in that moment Arya found it odd he was standing at all.
"You twisted the truth, withheld things from me," she said accusingly.
"I did what I had to do to see us through," he answered, right before the bright light was back.
Arya did not fear the light anymore, but waited for what was to come. What else was there to show her? She had her answers, but it did not change a thing. Jon was gone and he was never coming back. Bran had had a hand in that.
Arya felt a chill creep it's way down her spine, feeling her blood grow cold. The moment the bright light gave up its secret she felt as if something had punched her in the chest.
Snow, as far as the eye could see, surrounded her. The wind blew her back and forth, her hair whipping in her face. Something told her that if she were actually in this place she would freeze to death in seconds. Before her was a large cloud of snow swirling around. She was about to ask where they were when the cloud departed and Arya saw a lone figure sitting before her. Her eyes grew wide. Her heart plunged to her feet. She felt a pain shoot through her chest, felt it pierce her heart many many times.
"Jon?" Arya croaked.
He sat upon a throne made of ice, very similar to how his son was sitting on the Iron Throne moments ago. As she watched, the undead paid homage to their new king. Arya could not believe how similar it looked to what her people do for their king. Did the undead know what respect was? Did they know what love was? All of them had been human at one time. Did they have memories, some long forgotten feeling of what it was like to love and know companionship? Nymeria sat at Jon's feet, her head held high as the mass of undead passed their king.
"They need him," Bran said, low. "Without a leader they are doomed. He has control of them all now. He will teach them to respect us as we will learn to respect them. A pact will form between us and them, which we all will honor, and by doing so we all will live. Jon will give that to us. His sacrifice will not be in vain, Arya."
Jon's head turned towards her. His blue eyes stared straight into her own eyes, as if he could see to her very soul. Did he know she was there? If she called his name would he respond? Arya ached to touch him, to hear him say he loved her just one more time. She willed him to call to her, willed him to come for her, but he only stared.
"Can he see me?" She asked.
"Perhaps," Bran answered, low.
She tried to take a step, but noticed that same jerk of Jon's head from earlier. It was as if he was telling her no. Her face crumbled as his blue eyes watched her. She saw no emotion, no love in them. That hurt her the most.
"Get me out of here," she whispered, her body shaking.
She could not stand to see Jon in this form. She could not stand to come face to face with what she had done. Her mind was too fractured to understand what Bran was saying to her. She only knew her pain and loss. She only knew she had betrayed Jon.
"Arya…"
"Now!" She screamed.
Suddenly, Arya was back in the Great Hall. Everyone stared at her with wide eyes. She could hear sobs all around her, and when she turned to look at Daenerys she saw her sobbing openly. Missandei held her, rocking her back and forth. They all may not have seen what she saw, but they heard every word that had passed between her and Bran. They knew Jon was dead, turned into the Night King by her own hand.
"You should have told me everything," Arya said, turning back towards Bran, who was sitting in his chair again.
"Would you have done what was needed?" He asked.
"I would have… would have… no," she said, her voice cracking.
Sobs rose all around her. It suffocated her, breaking her very soul. She turned to leave, wanting nothing but to escape those sobs, but before she did she needed to ask one last question.
"Is… is my brother still in there somewhere? Did Bran have a hand in this?"
"What is left of Brandon Stark has faded. He no longer exist as you knew him."
"Good," Arya whispered, her angered eyes looking into the face of her brother. "If I ever see your face again I won't feel guilty when I slice it off and wear it as my own. This is your only warning, Raven," she said, her voice like ice.
She did not wait for him to answer, but went towards the door. Arya stopped, her face staring ahead. She could not look at Daenerys, not directly. She could not see her tears. Her sobs were enough.
"I'm so sorry," she said, walking the rest of the way out of the Great Hall.