I awoke to the sound of feminine giggles.

"Hu? Waz dat?" I murmured as consciousness slowly returned to me.

The big blur that was the world slowly focused and I found myself looking at the joyful and radiant, or was that radiantly joyful, face of Ashara Dayne.

"My brother wished you roused from your nap to join the feast," she said with a smile. "I dismissed the servant sent as I wished do it myself," her smile grew, almost lighting up the room with its intensity. "I wanted to thank you, and..."

She coughed and placed her finger to the side of her face.

Why would she...

Oh.

Shit.

I was drooling again in my sleep, wasn't I?"

I sat up with a most unladylike series of grumbles and groans before wiping the drool off my mouth with the inner of the overly long and flowing sleeves of this positively medieval Disney princess dress I was forced to strut around in.

I knew I was supposed to look my best when visiting a noble's castle, but shit, couldn't they design something practical?

Speaking of my mouth, I really needed a glass of water to wash it out with.

Old vomit flavor. Yuck.

Ashara blinked, maybe a little put off by the improper sounds I was making as I sat up.

"I just woke up," I muttered sleeply, "Give me a minute and I'll be the very image of the northern rose, but right now I'm just setting myself in order."

Almost as if to punctuate my point, I twisted my head to the left and then to the right, earning myself a pair of loud wet cracks.

Yeah, seems some of my more base talents carried over. Bet I could still belch on command too. Robert would probably love it.

Ashara on the other hand winced in sympathy at the sound. "Lyanna, are you well?"

"I'd say I'd never been better, but honestly I'd be lying," I sat up and arched my back, earning yet another series of cracks. And another wince.

"That... sounds painful," she said after an awkward moment.

"Actually, it feels pretty good, really takes the tension out," I yawned and sat up. "Okay, I'm up. Time to look all ladylike and shit..." I paused. "Hows my hair?"

She laughed. "Somewhat disheveled. I'll have one of our girls fetch a brush."

"Don't bother, I'm the She-Wolf of Winterfell..." I replied as I ran my fingers through my hair to tease out any bedhead and then shook it loose, "I'm supposed to look a bit wild. How do I look now?"

"Positively windswept," she replied drolly.

I chuckled. "So I take it I'm presentable?"

"Enough," she replied with a twinkle in her eyes.


My first meal at Starfall was something to behold for both parts of myself. I'd never really enjoyed the delights of a castle kitchen, and while much of the food was alien or exotic, more than enough of it was familiar. Lyanna on the other hand had pretty much subsisted on overglorified camp rations and crude peasant fare for most of the previous year.

Now, while the Daynes were Stony Dornish of First Man decent, they were also proud of their kingdom and it's unique culture and I had a feeling that they were playing it up a bit with their table fare. In medieval culture, the foods you served were a symbol of power and status, and in this case they were exalting the flavors and tastes of their homeland.

The foods were many and they were all delightfully exotic. There was of course, the eternal Dornish staple of flatbread and hummus with olives. The omnipresent stuffed grape leaves also made an appearance. Dates stuffed with nuts and drizzled with honey. Fresh plump figs. Citrus fruit a plenty. Lamb kabab. Dornish Snake. Lemon roasted turbot. Fucking lobster.

All washed down with a liberal selection of Strongwine, Dornish Red, and Lemonsweet.

Didn't much touch the wines. I couldn't handle the acidity of the Red, and after what happened last time Lyanna got fall down drunk, I doubt I'd ever be able to get drunk again. The Lemonsweet on the other hand was the best damned lemonade I'd ever had, and I love lemonade.

Lyanna was never really overly appreciative of food, having been raised on a relatively bland northern diet. Lots of root vegetables and red meat. Tasty. Healthy. Bland. At its best, rather British to be honest and at its worse, not something to be wished on an enemy.

I on the other hand was a proud and dedicated foodie. I'll eat almost anything and I have a love of the flavorful and exotic. It doesn't have to be fancy and I don't really care how strange it is, if it tastes good and doesn't seem like a heath risk or offend me on an ethical level, I'll try it.

And before me was a table of delights. So naturally, I had to try everything.

Howland and Ned on the other hand were a little less adventurous, much to the amusement of our hosts. From the small smile on Lord Andrews face, I had a feeling that while he respected Ned, he wasn't entirely appreciative of the whole clusterfuck that lead to his sister almost killing herself.

Ashara on the other hand looked as radiant as always. Her face was positively aglow and she seemed as if she would like nothing less than to snuggle at the table. Which would have been seen as improper in most kingdoms, but like most Dornish women she was somewhat shameless by standards of those from more northern reaches. Something to emulate I'd say.

Lord Andrew, was of course, sitting at the head of the table, and by his side was his lovely wife, Ayme of House Fowler. She was an extremely comely lass of about 20 name-days, with long golden hair, plump lips, and a freckled face. Assuming I didn't butterfly him out of existence, this was probably the woman who'd one day bare Edric Dayne.

This was also my first time seeing the young Allyria Dayne. The little girl was absolutely adorable and it was my bet that given time to grow and flower would grow into a beauty to rival her sister.

"The secret to enjoying Dornish food," I said with a smile as I took a wince inducing bite of Dornish snake, "Is understanding that pain is a flavor."

Fucking shit, that Dragonpepper sauce just kicked my ass. It was like napalm cut with wildfire! I loved spicy foods, but this body just didn't have the resistance I was used to. Thank god for the Lemonsweet. It was keeping me going through the burn.

Still, I needed to dull the fire a bit. "Girl," I called to a servant, "Fetch me some heavy cream."

"Lya," Ned said after a moment, "I find your new found taste for Dornish cuisine to be rather unexpected."

And shit, I can see why. Lyanna simply couldn't stand the heat of spicy foods.

I sighed. "Ned, before everything went from bad to worse, he tried to ply me with good foods. It was normally a choice between eat Dornish or starve. I'll freely admit that I've developed something of a taste for it despite myself."

He looked equal parts pensive and appalled for a moment before nodding, a pained grimace on his face.

"The bones of your companions should be ready for transport in two days," Andrew stated, interrupting the awkward silence, his attention on Ned.

Obviously relieved by the distraction, Ned nodded in response. "Thank you, Lord Andrew."

"Make no mention of it. Had it been Ashara taken by a madman, I'd want nothing less for those who fell to take her back,"

Ned flinched ever so slightly. I'd missed some important conversation. "Again, thank you."

"We've also remanded Arthur's remains to the Silent Sisters," he added, "We'd all be appreciative if you would attend his funeral."

"We'd be honored," Ned replied.

I glowered slightly, but said nothing. I despised the man, but at the end of the day he was kin now. That meant I was required to attend and look like I meant it.

"Lyanna?" Ashara asked.

I sighed. "Ashara, I will be honest with you. I will never mourn your brother. What he was party to I cannot forgive. But as far as I'm concerned, you're kin now," the details of how this all came about were somewhat befuddling the more I thought about it, but still, "Which means, as much as I am loathe to admit it, so was your brother."

I let the moral implications of aiding in the kidnapping and serial rape of your de-facto good-sister hang for a moment I took a soothing slip of cream to dull the burn of the Dornish Snake.

"Truly blessed is the person who actually likes everyone in their family," I stated drolly.

Little Allyria pouted. "I love all my family!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Just because you love someone doesn't mean you have to particularly like them. For example I've heard talk that your kinsman Gerold is a right nasty little brat."

She flushed but lowered her head, muttering in agreement. It was rather adorable. Everyone else clearly thought so as well, as laughter abounded.

"You have my thanks, Lady Lyanna" Andrew said after a moment. His eyes flickered to Ned and then moved over to Howland. "I would invite your man too."

"It would be my honor," Howland replied.

I sighed and leaned back. Oh, I was so not looking forward to this. I'd have to act all pensive and respectful when all I'd really want to do is break out into an impromptu rendition 'Ding Dong the Witch is Dead'.

I turned my attention back to the food and away from the table side conversation, which at this point had degenerated into Ned and Howland talking about how awesome a fighter Arthur had been while the Daynes lamenting about good a man Arthur was before The Motherfucker trapped him in the honor strangling Catch 22 from hell.

As for the food, I decided to try the lobster. I liked the Dornish Snake, but while the mind was willing, my body was not ready. The lobster on the other hand, was perfect, with lemon and butter sauce. It almost reminded me of home, except far better cooked than I'd ever had before.

I will freely admit that I was ready and willing to eat like a Roman if I had the chance. The food was just too damned good.

I could see why Robert turned into a fucking blimp. I'd do the same if I didn't keep myself in good shape.

"Mmmm..." I moaned as I ate one of the grape leaves, "So good."

"It seems that our Lady Wolf is enjoying the food," Lady Ayme said playfully.

I flushed somewhat but I was left with two choices. First, I act embarrassed. Second, I run with it.

I smirked and leaned in. "If you'd been forced to subsist on a diet of hardtack and boiled shoe leather for the better part of a year, you'd be making unladylike sounds as well if offered such a feast! In fact, I think I feel one coming on right now..."

Yep. I could still burp on command. It was loud. It was deep. And if there's been any more spice on my breath, it probably would have come out in the form of a fireball.

Lady Ayme looked momentarily scandalized. Ashara rolled her eyes. The men on the other hand were laughing their asses off. Even Ned was chucking as too was little Allyria... because you know how little children are. Though after a moment, the Lady Dayne did crack a cockeyed smile.

"You make a compelling argument," she said with some bemusement.

"Thank you, my lady, I do try," I replied with a cheeky grin.

"Lady Lyanna," Lord Dayne asked after a moment, "When you returned Dawn to us, even after what Arthur had been party to, you said that you wished a boon of me," He paused, "Then before you asked, you saved my sister's life. In my view, this leaves me double in debt. What would you have of me and of House Dayne. As long as it is in my power, I shall grant your request."

I sighed deeply. Fucking hell. "Actually, Lord Dayne, what I was to ask is now impossible to grant..."

He looked slightly confused. "How so?"

I glanced apologetically at Ashara then turned to her brother and took a deep breath to set my nerves. "When I arrived, I knew from eavesdropping on Arthur that your sister had recently birthed a stillborn a child fathered by one of my brothers. I was going to ask that you allow us to claim Brandon was that child. I fear for my son's life and such a fiction could offer him protection from Robert's blind fury," I closed my eyes, "But it's no longer a reasonable request."

Arthur nodded. "Aye. To claim your son was Ashara's would force us to lie about his age. It would make him older than the Tully woman's child. And as they swore themselves to each other before a Heart Tree... there would be those who claimed he was his father's true heir."

I nodded. "And just to make matters worse, even if they didn't house Dayne is a First Man line that dates back to the days of the Age of Heroes. The Sword of Morning fought by the side of the Magnar of Winter during the Battle for the Dawn. Your ancestors watched Brandon the Builder raise the Wall. Even if your family has turned away from the Old Gods in epoch since, your lineage is absolutely unquestionable in the eyes of the North. House Tully on the other hand?" I snorted, "Bunch of backstabbing Andel lovers raised up from nothing by a incestious Valyrian invader less than 15 score years ago on account that they're traditionally first in line to kiss arse whenever a would-be conqueror shows up. In comparison they might as well have mud flowing through their veins."

Ned frowned and moved to defend his wife, but I cut him off before he could speak.

"You know that's how they're going to see it, Ned," I snapped, "It would be the perfect recipe for a civil war, and I do believe we've all had well enough of that."

"And of course without that option, my little Bran and I are now left at the questionable mercy of my betrothed," I positively deflated as I fell back into my chair, this admission leaving me feeling rather spent.

Ashara frowned. "If you'd let me jump... or at least argued against me going north... this fiction would have been plausible."

"Don't remind me," I muttered bitterly, "Damn the gods for cursing me with a conscience."


The Old Gods were real.

On an intellectual level I already knew. I mean, at the end of the day, A Song of Ice and Fire was a high fantasy setting doing its damndest to trick the reader into thinking it's low fantasy. The reality though is that magic is very real. The gods are very real. The kingdom was founded by three assholes riding fire breathing dragons. The weather functions according to the meteorological principle of "A Wizard Did It". And there's going to be an ice zombie invasion in about 15 years time

This knowledge however didn't prepare me for the sheer force of presence I felt when I walked into the Starfall Godswood. I felt them, the gods. They were there. They were watching me. Looking into the eyes of the Heart tree felt like looking into the eyes of eternity.

I wouldn't call it omnipresent nor omnibenevolent, but there was a weight to it that spoke of boundless wisdom, and an almost palpable sensation of... sympathetic concern. I couldn't make out any discernable emotions or messages. I wasn't a damned prophet, but I could feel their presence and it was very real.

How had Lyanna never felt this? Was it because I'd crossed over between life and death trapping my soul between two realms? Was it because I'd been sent here for a reason? Or was it always like this, and the locals had just become so acclimatised to the presence of magic and the divine that they were left numb to it?

I didn't know, but holy shit. I was having a serious Pocahontas moment here. No kidding. I swear, for a moment there, I could paint with the fucking Colors of the Wind...

Trippy.

Massive, mind blowing mystical revelations aside however, it was pretty damned comforting. Kind of like a giant warm magical blanket, which suited my needs just fine. Right now I could use a little bit of mystical god prozac.

And it was thus that I sat down before the ancient Heart Tree, taking a moment to give good old Mother Willow here's roots an affectionate pat, and pulled out the empty ledger book I'd managed to procure from the castle maester.

I came here with a plan. And while I'd just added prayer to that to do list, I could vent to the gods once I was out of sunlight. For now however, my plan was simple. I was going to record the designs for everything I could. Every bit of science I could remember and I was going to do it in English.

The last thing I wanted was someone finding it and asking questions. I mean, there'd be questions anyways, but at least this way they wouldn't be able to see all the details or read the cliffsnotes version of A Song of Ice and Fire I'd be writing in the back.

I began by recording as much of the Time Machine Poster as I was able to recall. Thank the gods I'd all but memorized it on a silly lark. At the time I'd said 'who carries a poster if they get thrown back in time'? I had no idea how right I'd be.

Then I moved onto what I liked to call the holy trifecta of DIY pyromaia: Gunpowder, Rocket Candy, and Thermite.

Seed Plow was another thing to sketch up. Not exactly sure of the detailed mechanics, but I'm sure I could find a blacksmith with enough sense of tinkering to make it work. The Cotton Gin was another. That one I knew how it worked. Mostly. Enough project for someone with more mechanical skill than myself.

I was wracking my mind trying to remember how a fucking combine works when I heard a step on stone. By instinct my hand flew to the dagger on my waist as a small burst of fear ran through me.

I couldn't help but remember the last time Lyanna had encountered a man near a Godswood.

I relaxed however when I saw that it was Ned.

"You startled me," I said with a sigh, moving my hand away from the blade. "So, are you here to pray, or just to bother your kid sister?"

Eddard smiled. "I believe I can do both. How are you, Lyanna. Really?"

I sighed and leaned back. "Honestly, I'm pretty damned awful. It's indescribably liberating to be free of that fucking tower, however now I find myself neck deep in a world of shit."

He moved in and sat down next to me.

"Would you like to tell me why you think that way?"

I took a deep breath. "Ned. Right now I don't know what to do or how to handle any of this," I admitted. "I know I need to marry Robert... or at least I'm willing to entertain the concept as long as he stops acting like a complete fucking idiot."

Ned frowned. "Lya, he's my friend."

"Which is why you'll never really be able to see his faults for what they are," I replied. "You forgive him too easily."

"I know him, Lyanna," he replied, "Robert's a good man despite his faults. He will make you happy..." he frowned, "Or else."

I blinked. Did he just half-handedly threaten his best friend?

"I, Eddard Stark, son of Rickard and Lyarra Stark swear here before my sister and the gods themselves that should her concerns towards her betrothal not be addressed to her satisfaction, there will be no marriage. And should her fears of a return to imprisonment become a reality, then I will forsake past friendships and take her back."

I was left utterly slack jawed for a moment. Holy shit. He said he'd do it but... he actually did it. "Ned..."

There was a fire in his eyes, a passion. "I told you I'd make those oaths. And I'll make another one. Your son is my nephew and base born or true, it matters not. I will allow no harm to come to him. Enough Stark blood has been spilt in this blasted southron war."

"I... I..." I honestly didn't know what to say.

When it came to Brandon, every instinct in my body told me one thing. He was my son. That I was his mother. That it was my role in this world to love and protect him despite all else and no matter how he came to be.

It was overpowering, and I bore the marks and the memories of his birth on both my body and mind. I couldn't not love him no matter how much I'd rather not have to deal with this. So Ned so clearly offering his protection to my son was comforting in a way that I simply couldn't put to words.

As long as Brandon was safe, I could deal with Robert Baratheon. It was my death and over a decade tied to the most vile woman on the continent that had put him into his downward spiral. The simple fact was that he really was a lot like Brandon. An oafish drunk who liked pussy far too much, but ultimately, he was a good man. Or at least he wanted to be.

I didn't know for sure until I reached King's Landing, but I was pretty sure I could moderate his excesses or at least redirect them in less harmful direction.

"Ned," I finally said after a long pause, "You have no idea how relieved I am right now."

I released a deep sigh and leaned back against the tree.

"You've pretty much just covered my main three... well..." I paused, "Sources of irrational gnawing terror."

He blinked and sat down next to me. "Lyanna you've been acting different."

"I know," I replied. Shit. He was more observant than he looks. "I'm not the same person. Not after what I've been through."

He frowned. "You'll want to be careful. There will be those who think you mad."

"And there's all of three people in Westeros whose opinions I concern myself with, Eddard. Yours, Benjen's, and Robert's. And let's be honest, would Robert disapprove of the person I am now?"

He looked out into space. "No, but there are those who can influence Robert that might not approve..."

"You mean Jon Arryn," I stated cooly. "Who like most Andel men wouldn't appreciate the idea of a woman having a voice as much as an opinion or gods forbid an actual personality."

"Lya," Ned cut in with a scowl. "Jon Arryn is a good man."

"Never said he wasn't" I lied, "What I said is that he looks at the world through a traditional Andel lense. And by Andel tradition, women are little more than self-propelled statuary whose only appreciable duties are to look good and shit out sons while remaining silent and demure."

Eddard moved to sit down next to me. I carefully stowed my book and made room for him.

"I don't believe you're giving Jon enough credit," he said after a moment, "All I ask is that you don't make up your mind about him before meeting him."

"How are you holding up, brother," I asked after a moment, having grown tired of talking about the most Andel man on the continent. "I know I'm not the only one to have had something of a shit year."

He chuckled and then released a deep sigh. "Well enough I supose. We lost Brandon and Father, my love life has become the stuff of lurid tales, and I feel that the honor of our cause was left irrevocably tainted by the Lannister's actions in King's Landing, but you are safe. Alive and well, and that my dear sister, it the most important thing."

I blushed. I was actually deeply touched by that. Sure I wasn't really Lyanna, even if I had the full sum of her memories and emotions. And what were we but the sum of our memories? And... I'm so not getting into this existential bullshit right now.

"So, this thing with Ashara," I said after a moment, "Exactly what happened?"

Ned sighed. "Lya..."

"If I'm going to help cover for you I need to know the entire story."

He nodded. "Very well. After Brandon introduced my to Ashara, we started to talk and quickly became smitten with each other. Father had long made it clear to me that I was free to marry as I saw fit, though he made it clear that he'd prefer I found a suitable match..."

While I was auctioned off like a prize heifer. Lucky!

"Ashara was under similar conditions. She was free to wed for love under the condition that the man she chose was of sufficiently high standing."

I blinked. That was liberal as hell, even for Dorne. "Really?"

Ned nodded. "It was her father's last gift to his daughters. He made Lord Andrew agree to it on his deathbed. Apparently one of his sisters had been married to a man she loathed and he wished to ensure that his own daughters didn't suffer as she did."

"I see. Please continue."

"The next day I informed father of our decision. He was well pleased and claimed that she was an outstanding match. He asked me to not speak of it as he planned to contact Lord Andrew and arrange the Dowry as well as put to sorts the territory I would be granted as my landhold. He'd intended to make it grand announcement of it at Brandon's wedding."

"And then everything went completely to shit."

Ned nodded. "Yes. When Lord Hoster insisted I marry Catlyn in Brandon's place I tried to speak with Jon, to try and find another way, but he'd hear none of it..."

Okay. Never mind the whole 'give Jon Arryn a chance' thing. He'd be lucky if I wasn't the one to poison his ass.

"I'm very much beginning to hate that man," I said understating my emotions on the issue.

"Don't," Ned replied, "I didn't explain the situation very well nor did I understand the full scope of the oaths I'd made."

He paused and then let his shoulders slump. "Lya, this entire situation has brought a great problem to my attention. I've been in the South too long. I'm no longer as accustomed to the traditions of our people and I fear that our people might see me as a foreigner... and now to bring home not one but two southron brides, even if one isn't officially recognized for the sake of politics..."

"You'll do fine," I replied, "Just as long as your fair, just, and don't do anything monumentally stupid like building a sept in Winterfell..."

There was no way in hell that I'd let some clueless southern nun full his daughters heads with tall tales.

Ned flushed somewhat and began to fidget.

"Neeeed..." I said in a low dangerous tone. "Did you build a sept in Winterfell?"

"No," he replied weakly. "But I may have planned to... as a gift to my wife..."

I facepalmed. "Build one in Wintertown then. A small one. But not on the castle grounds. It's one thing to give those who worship the seven a place to speak to their gods. It's another to let Andel idolatry sake a claim in very beating heart of the North."

I frowned, "I wouldn't be surprised if your little Catfish had gone North with some personal delusion about civilizing the heathen North or some other such delusional nonsense..."

"Lya, I realize that for some reason you dislike Catlyn, but there is no reason to cast aspersions."

"I'm not casting shit, brother of mine," I bitterly replied, "You haven't had to sit in knitting circles with these silly little twats and listen to their vapid banter."

I'd never forgive Rickard Stark for his attempts to look to the south. The stupidity that Lyanna had to sit through for the sake of his ambition, which I knew well had been encouraged by everybody's favorite Vale Lord, was enough to drive a sane man mad. Or sane woman. Oh, whatever.

"Believe it or not, the idea of 'civilizing the heathen North' with the of the seven's light and the power of their magical vaginas is pretty much a well harped on common thread..."

Ned actually laughed. "Lya, now I know you jest."

"Yes, yes," I dramatically roll my eyes, "They actually would harp and on and on on about peerless beauty, the purity of womanhood, and all that rot, but when you get down to it, it's all just about the delusion that they alone possess the one true pussy..."

Dramatically I threw out an arm. "One cunt to rule them all! One cunt to find them! One cunt to bring them all... and in matrimony bind them!"

Ned actually began to laugh. "Stop! Lya! Stop!"

I pouted. "What?"

"I'm sorry, and I hope you don't mind me saying this but just now I actually wished Robert were here," His eyes sparked in the dimming daylight. "If he'd heard that entire exchange, betrothed or no, had he never even met you, he probably would have proclaimed his eternal undying devotion after that."

"I don't know if I should be scandalized or ecstatic," I replied with a smirk.

He chuckled. "Gods is it good to have you back, Lyanna."

"It's good to be back," I replied without thinking.

Okay. Not really. I'd like to be back... in a civilized world... but at least right now I was talking to the one not a jerk person on the entire planet. I had that much going at least, right?

"If you dislike southern women," he considered, "Why are you so fond of Ashara?"

"The Dornish actually expect their daughters to have a intellectual capacity greater than that of your average mollusk," I stated, "They don't spend nearly as much time filling their heads with useless romantic fluff. Instead they assume that they're not idiot children..."

"But enough of that. I tire to speaking of depressing things like reality," I smiled, "Ned, would you like to hear a story?"

Eddard blinked and then smiled. "A story you say? Well, I never knew you to be one for crafting tales. You always were more the kind to seek them."

"When you like stories and are the only one to tell them, you will quickly become adept even if you are your own audience."

He flinched slightly at such a flippant reference to Lyanna's captivity.

"Would you like to hear a story Ned?"

"Very well, Lyanna. Tell me your story."

I smiled and closed my eyes as I thought back. Maybe it was something about the way Lyanna's brain worked, but words I'd but read years ago came back to me with amazing clarity. Or maybe it was some blessing from whatever force put me here, but that came to me as if I were reading them anew. And given a chance, I really should record them for posterity's sake.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort..."