Arya

By the time they got back to Riverrun, Arya was losing patience with Bran. Every night he told her more about his visions, uncovered more of the timeline she and Sansa had changed. And every night he told her about the warnings he was getting, about how their journey through time was too dangerous, something they never should have done. She remembered how the future version of Bran had said the same thing, how that had been what pushed Sansa over the line. Was this Bran already lost to them too? She refused to believe it. She would win him back around.

She had enough things to worry about otherwise. Her mother had been less conversational on this trip, and Arya was concerned for her. It couldn't be a pleasant thing, having been told her father would die so soon. She was concerned about Robb, too, and whether he could find any happiness out of his union with Myrcella. And of course, she worried for her father and Sansa, in the capital, so far away without much communication. And for Jon, up in the North, fighting against the horrors beyond the wall. She needed to do something for him, too. She just didn't quite know what yet.

Edmure came out at the gates to meet them. When he saw Rickon, he grinned. "So this is my youngest nephew, then?"

Rickon looked at his uncle, seemingly a bit perplexed. "Hi."

Mother took Rickon into her arms, then looked at her brother. "How is he?"

Immediately, his expression changed. "Not well."

"Have you-have you contacted Lysa?"

"Multiple letters. No reply."

Mother nodded. "I didn't expect so."

"The Blackfish is here, though."

At that, she smiled. "I'm glad."

Bran had almost immediately gone off with Summer, and Arya felt a pang of sorrow for Nymeria. But wherever she was, Arya figured, she was probably happier being a wild direwolf, not trapped with her. After all, she had become a pack leader in the original timeline. Maybe she would find her pack again in this one. Maybe some people were meant to find each other. With a pang Arya thought again of Gendry, and of Hot Pie, and all the other people she had met on her journey. What would their fates be like without her?

"Something wrong, Arya?" Edmure asked.

"A lot of things are wrong," she said, a bit flatly. She was never quite sure how to talk to her uncle; she hadn't known him in the first timeline, and in this one he didn't know her, didn't understand who she really was or what she was doing. She wondered if perhaps she should change that.

"Well," he said, evidently unclear how to respond to that. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

She shook her head. "No." Then she frowned. "Wait. Possibly. Can you spare any men?"

"Perhaps a couple, why?"

"Are they men you can trust completely?"

"They can be."

"I need to get a message to Sansa. One that I can't trust to a raven, one that must be delivered in complete confidence."

Edmure looked a bit perplexed. "I suppose I can make that happen."

"Thank you, Uncle."

Her mother frowned. "Edmure, would you like to take Rickon for a bit?"

"I'd be delighted," he said, taking him into his arms. "But-"

"I'll see you later." She turned to Arya. "Come with me, please."

When they were in private, she sighed. "What do you need to write Sansa about so urgently?"

"About Bran."

Mother seemed caught off guard by that statement. "Bran?"

"I told you how he became some sort of magical vessel originally. And how he was having visions again. Of the first timeline. Of what we changed. Well, they've kept coming. And he's warning me that it's dangerous and we're meddling with forces we should stay away from. I want Sansa's input, and I want her to be fully informed. Also, I very much need to know exactly how much she's told Father, and how she thinks things are going in the capital, without code. We're running out of time, Mother. I mean it's very good that we're all still alive, but the things that happened afterwards nearly killed us all anyway. Something has to be done about the white walkers, and something has to be done about Daenerys Targaryen. Unfortunately, the one who actually did the most to deal with those two issues-"

"Is Jon." Her mother sighed. "So write to him."

"It isn't that simple. Assuming things are going the same way up there, which for the most part I think they are, he's off with the wildlings now. With his wildling lover, actually."

"His what?"

"Long story."

"He took a vow to-"

"Really, Mother?"

"Yes, alright. Fine. I see the issue, certainly. When does he get back?"

"He didn't get back until after the Red Wedding."

"Hmm. Was he pleased I died?"

"Mother-"

"He would have every right to be."

That stopped Arya short. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Send your message to Sansa. Do what you need to do." She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Arya behind with her head spinning.

Sansa

She watched Littlefinger as she did most days, when she could. She needed to know what he was up to. His previous plans had largely been foiled, but he would never stop vying for power. As she watched, he ran into another man, as if on accident, and began to speak. Looking closer, Sansa saw that it was Renly Baratheon. That couldn't be good. He would jump at the chance to overthrow his brother. And suddenly something clicked in her mind.

Why had Margaery told her that she was pregnant with Robert's child? That was her insurance of her place at queen. But it put a target on her for anyone who might want to overthrow the king. After all, a trueborn heir was a challenger for the throne. Margaery needed to learn who was trustworthy. If Sansa gossiped, she would know who may come after her. But if Sansa kept the information to herself, Margaery would know she was trustworthy. Suddenly Sansa wondered if the queen even was pregnant. She thought so, as it would be foolish to put a target on her back for no reason. But this was still a test. And she had to make sure that she passed.

She headed into the garden, where Margaery stood talking to her brother. Sansa wondered briefly what he was doing visiting the court, but didn't dwell on it. If her plan with Margaery worked, she would soon know.

She waited until the queen was alone to walk over to her. "Queen Margaery."

She smiled. "Lady Sansa."

"How are you this afternoon?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. It's a lovely day."

"It is. And how's the, uh, baby?"

"Doing well," she responded with a smile.

"I do ever so appreciate you telling me."

"Well, just between us girls, of course."

"Of course. We wouldn't want that information getting out."

"No."

"Could I tell you a secret? Just between us girls?"

"I don't see why not."

"I don't think Lord Renly likes his brother very much. In fact, I think he might be plotting to overthrow him."

Margaery's eyebrows shot upwards. "Ah. That sort of secret, eh?"

"Is there really any other sort?"

Margaery grinned. "So I was right about you. You are a clever one. Good."

"What do you want from me, Your Grace?"

"Cleverness. Mutual trust. The things that build a good alliance."

"An alliance?"

"How would you feel about marrying my brother, Sansa Stark?"

Memories came rushing back to her, the last time she had been made such an offer. "I could see that benefitting the North. I'd have to speak to my father, of course."

"Of course. Please do think about it."

She walked off, leaving Sansa much to think about indeed.

On the way back to her father's chambers, Sansa passed Lord Varys. If Father approved her plans, she would need to be speaking to him soon. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but it opened before she could. "Sansa," he said with a smile. "Good, you're here. We need to talk."

"We do," she said. "About Robert."

"About Daenerys," he said.

"It's all tied. No progress can be made while he's on the throne. I know you didn't like the idea of getting him off of it, but I thought of a way-"

"No." He gave her a kind but firm look. "Because what could I do? Nothing from here. Sansa, I've been thinking, and the only conclusion I've come to is this-I have to arrange a meeting with Daenerys Targaryen."