The High Road

Arya Stark

Where do I go now?

Arya rests next to the fire, clutching the coin tightly in her hand as she stares at the dying fire, watching the flames dance their last dance and listens to the Hound snore and snort loudly next to her while he slept, she wrinkled her nose slightly in disgust when she hears him snort before he continues to snore. She repeats the question like a mantra as if she was expecting the flames to answer but they never do. Father was gone. Mother and Robb were gone. Bran and Rickon were gone. I'm all alone, Arya thinks to herself and glares at the flickering fire that crackles softly in the silent night. Just like them. All she could think of was her mother, her father and her brothers. All she could think on was how they died.

Arya feels like screaming but she knows that no one will hear her screams. That no one will care for her screams. Father, Mother, Robb, Bran and Rickon were all dead. Sansa was a little bird with clipped wings and was trapped in a cage. Her sister could not fly away and could only sit on her perch, letting all the Lords and Ladies leer at her from outside her cage. Her sister was useless but she was useless too. Arya could not save them nor could Sansa.

The wolf dreams that she had each night was what she longed for, in her wolf dreams, she did not feel anything but the dirt between her paws and the rain on her pelt, giving chase to her pray with a pack of wolves at her heels. Arya felt no anger, no sadness nor jealousy. All she felt was freedom. Her father was wrong, the lone wolf does survive and has survived longer than the pack ever has, the pack is long gone, scattered across the Seven Kingdoms. Her sisters were lone she wolves like she was and they still lived. I have lasted longer than you, she thinks about her father. Arya fights to be brave each day that passes, to be a fierce wolf, like her own direwolf, Nymeria but at times when then the night was silent and cruel, she felt like a little girl again. Arya wraps her cloak that was draped around her, burying herself into the furs as she curls up into a ball on the cold ground.

Where do I go now? What do I do?

Arya longs for home, she longs to be back at Winterfell, she longs for the snowfall during summer and for the howling of direwolves. Yet she knows that will never come to happen. Her home was nothing but snow and stone by now, ruled by Ramsay Bolton. Arya lived a life on the run, sleeping on the hard ground and suffered through cold nights with an aching heart and a vengeance on her mind.

The dragons will be awakened from their long sleep as will the dead, her red sister told her. The summer armies do not stand against the winter that will come to Westeros. A night of terrors will soon be upon us. It will be a song of ice and fire.The words by her sister made her long for her even more. She does not long for her father nor her mother, nor her brothers...she longs for her sisters, even Sansa.

Arya would kiss Sansa on the cheek and would ask for her forgiveness, she would try and act like a proper Lady, even if for a moment, she would like that. For a moment she had forgotten where she was and where she was going and began to dream of when she was little, when she shared her bedchambers with her sisters and would fool those who came to check on them by going under their furs, keeping their breathing steady and would have their eyes lightly closed.

It became a game to them every night, they would tell each other stories in hushed whispers but when they heard footsteps grow closer to their chambers, they would dive into their beds and pretend to sleep. After Lysara went missing, they spent the night huddled in her bed and waited for her to come home and she did but everything changed. Lysara had changed. Sansa had changed. She had changed. The three of them changed. No longer were they the she wolf pack of Winterfell that would playfully fight in the summer snow. And she missed it. Arya missed it more than anything in the world and she could not have it back.

Arya wants Lysara.

Arya wants her older sister, she wants Lysara to come and tell her scary stories that their mother forbid her older sister from telling and would never let her hear. Arya wants Lysara to come and brush her hair like she used to, she was always gentle with the brush unlike the firm hand of her mother or the horrible hand of her Septa. She wants to hide in Lysara's chambers like she used to and hide away from Septa Mordane and most of Winterfell, who would never step foot inside her sister's chambers. Arya wanted to sleep next to Lysara during thunderstorms, knowing that her sister would remain silent to everyone else at the fact she was scared. Arya wants Lysara to call her, her wild wolf and give her one of the rare and gentle smiles she possesses.

Arya wants Jon.

She wanted them when their father was beheaded, she wanted them when she heard what happened to their little brothers, she wanted them when she saw what the Frey's had done to Robb and what the Frey's had done to her mother. Arya wants them at night when she is lonely and hurt. Like now. Lysara and Jon always brought her comfort. Their shared grey eyes that mirrored her own always assured her that she was safe. Arya would let her brother and sister slaughter their enemies, she wanted her sister to make the world burn and call it rain and she wanted her brother to run their enemies through with his sword while she and Sansa would watch in satisfaction. Arya confided in the Hound about her desires but all he did was laugh and mock her.

They aren't coming for you, girl, the Hound had told her. Your red sister is missing and your bastard brother is a brother of the Night's Watch.

Arya felt stupid after that and knew bitterly, that after all this time, her sister and brother would never find her. Her hatred for Theon Greyjoy consumes her as she watches the fire grow dim, wishing her sister would reignite the flames to warm her. Arya wished Robb knew better than to trust a Greyjoy, she wished that Theon hadn't betrayed Robb but at least she hoped he was suffering. At times, Arya prayed for his suffering and for what he did to her brothers and her sister. For what he had done to Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin. For what he had done to Winterfell.

"Valar Morghulis," Arya murmurs. For the night is dark and full of terrors, she adds the words of her sister silently.

Arya wishes for a lot of things but none more so than her family, she wishes that her sisters were at the Eyrie, waiting for her but she knew that would never happen. Instead, she clutches the blood stained coin in her hand and concentrates on the hatred she has for her enemies, the hatred for them was the only thing that kept her going when her belly was empty and the sore soles of her feet were blistered and bleeding. It was the only thing that kept her breathing, that kept her going so with that she holds the coin given to her by Jaqen H'ghar, to her face and stares at intently, stroking the detail of the coin stained with blood with her thumb as she whispers her prayer to Death once more. The list had grown shorter and with Joffrey dead, it was one less person for her to hate.

Cersei Lannister. Tywin Lannister. Amory Lorch. Walder Frey. Meryn Trant. Melisandre. Beric Dondarrion. Thoros of Myr. Ilyn Payne. The Mountain.

The Land Beyond The Wall

Lysara Stark

The sky was dark and murky as she made her way through the cold, snow ridden woods with the Free Folk, she clutched the large and heavy fur cloak that weighed heavily against her body as she trailed behind them and fought against another strong bout of wind. The day had turned to night and she found herself entranced by the howling she heard as it carried with the wind. No longer did she have the dress of crimson she so adored, her dress had long since been taken by the fire and no longer was she hailed the wearer of red. The unburnt, some of the Free Folk hailed her. She paid the Free Folk little to no mind as she found herself lost in the lonely and eerily beautiful woods, she had since lost herself in her own world yet in these dead woods with leafless, dark and snow covered trees, she has never felt more at home than she has.

The speckles of white that were dancing in the sky above her started to land on her and soon enough a flake or two of snow caught her cracked lips, letting her taste winter. It was a taste that brought her great sorrow yet comfort. It was the taste of Winterfell. It was the taste of her home and how Lysara longed for it. Lysara prayed to her Lord of Light each night, staring into the flames she was knelt by and prayed that he would let her return home back to her beautiful Winterfell.

She did not want to witness their great victory nor the great defeat during the black battle at the Wall nor did she want to witness such bloodshed. The screams echoed hauntingly, chilling her as she stared at the Free Folk ahead of her. Her eyes lingered on the heavily pregnant Dalla who was riding on horseback, groaning every so often in pain as she clutched her swollen stomach. She and the Queen beyond the Wall would be taken to the nearby caves for safekeeping until Mance Rayder retrieved them.

Lysara was not a woman with many desires but a desire she did have was to thread her fingers through Rickon's soft unruly locks and embrace Bran while she told them tales and sang them songs of old about winter and the First Men. My little sisters, she thinks to herself as she stares intently ahead of her and eyes the burning torches that some were carrying. I need to find them too. Lysara catches the fiery hair of Daramyr and thinks on her own auburn haired sister. In truth, she was reminded of her family wherever she went and the woods was where she was reminded of them the most.

The wind reminded her of her fierce mother and her boisterous younger sister, Arya. The old and wise trees reminded her of father and her brother, Brandon. The delicate snowflakes reminded her of Sansa and the stars that danced in the sky reminded her of Rickon. The people that surrounded her reminded her mostly of Robb and Jon. The people reminded her of honourable Robb and of her dutiful Jon. Yet all she could think of as she watched the snowflakes dance within the wind was her little sisters. They are alone now, she thought solemnly. Just like I am.

As of now, all she wanted was Winterfell. All around her was darkness and winter, death was drawing near and she could smell its breath. Is my duty to R'hllor first or is it to Winterfell? Lysara thought, her brows furrowing but she let out a small gasp from fright as she slipped slightly on a rock and from then on, became more mindful of each stone she stepped on as she looked down and noticed a thin layer of ice, that was gleaming like a dagger underneath the light of the moon. She pulled the fur cloak closer to her body, wrapping her arms around herself as she trekked through the woods and the train of the fur cloak left a trail through the snow. The trek was laborious and she did not know how much she could take.

Lysara had wanted to hate the Wildlings, she wanted to loathe and despise them with her very being...but she could not she had slowly fallen for them and the beauty beyond the Wall. Lysara did not realise what she had done before it was too late and she cursed her heart for it. All the cruel stories Old Nan had told her about the Free Folk were wrong.

If someone were to ask her long ago should the Wildlings be let beyond the Wall, she would not care anything about it but after seeing them for who and what they were, she could not let that happen to them. At first, they did not like her nor was she particularly found of them but after eating and drinking with them, dancing and sharing a tent with some of the women who offered her clothing when she had none, if they stay beyond the Wall, they will die. It was the chilling truth, she had dreamt it a thousand times over.

You must remember your duty, Robb murmured. Your duty is to the North.

My brother named me the ruling Lady of Winterfell, Lysara thinks to herself. And the Free Folk are from the North like I am.

The crows no longer have a choice in the matter, they can either add the Free Folk to the army of the Other or they can let the Free Folk beyond the Wall to aid her and the realm of men in the fight against the dead and the Long Night. The mere feuds of Westeros never caught her interest, it was something worth acknowledging but the wars they were waging now meant nothing to her. Those wars are false.

The true war was between life and death, between the light and the darkness. Lysara did not care for a throne made from swords nor who should run the Seven Kingdoms. It would matter little when winter truly comes to Westeros and when it does, there will be nowhere left to run or hide. The likes of Westerosi politics and the war over the Iron Throne mattered nothing to dead men.

The wind was howling fiercely, whipping her braided hair wildly as she fought against the wind. The wind sounds like a wolf, Lysara thinks to herself. A ghost wolf. The wind howled once more only this time, it was not the wind. Lysara licked her cracked red lips, noticing that her lip had split from the cold air and she found her mouth going dry. She forced herself to straighten up, staring ahead at a nearby tree and her brows furrowed as she listened to the sound of something behind her that was racing for her, a twig snapped behind her causing her to stiffen and she braced herself, turning around quickly as her heart thundered in her chest, beating against her as her being called for her to flee.

A large shadow was seen moving towards her and from the trees, emerged a huge wolf that startled many of the Free Folk. A direwolf. Her brows furrowed when she took in the large wolf, the fur of the wolf was white as the snow beneath her and the direwolf's eyes were crimson like the leaves on a Weirwood tree. The wolf prowled towards her and began to circle her, nudging himself into her knees every so often as he grumbles softly. His lips purse into a snarl, showing two sharp rows of teeth as he eyes the men and women with weapons drawn to them but she pays them no mind as she lets out a short, breathless laugh as she begins to circle him as well before she loses all the strength she possessed and her knees buckled together, causing her to stumble.

"Ghost," Lysara murmured hoarsely and fell to her knees, collapsing into the bundle of furs that she was wearing as the direwolf nears her. "You found me. You've grown so much..."

Lysara let her own head rest against his as she cups his muzzle and let her face rest against him as he nuzzled her neck and gave a few tender licks to her cheek, she could hear someone move towards her but she paid little to no mind to them as she held Ghost to her. If Ghost is here, she thought to herself and looked up, staring into the woods. Jon is not far behind. Her hopes turned to ash when she feels someone grasp her upper arm and pulls her to her feet, the direwolf growls in protest but she hushes him softly and pulls herself from the grip on her arm and turns to face Daramyr who was holding the reins to a horse.

"We have to leave," Daramyr informs her. "The crows know that we are arriving. I promised Mance that I would keep you and his wife safe. I wouldn't fancy you dying tonight, fire bird."

It was strange, no one other than Jory had teased or made lustful remarks to her. The way he mocks the customs that she has grown up with and the way he mocks her God or as Daramyr calls him Rollo, it took all her will not to stab him while he slept and at times, he would bring her gifts. It was usually just pelts or weapons that she had no clue how to use but they were gifts nonetheless and she has come to think that he was courting her in the way folk beyond the Wall must do. Lysara looks down to Ghost who remains still but was not silent, he was still huffing and snarling low beneath his breath though he had not attacked any of the Free Folk that came near her.

"I think I deserve a kiss," The man says slyly, snapping her out of her thoughts as he slides his hand into her own and pulls her closer to the horse. His eyes were dancing with mischief and he tilted his neck, showing his cheek to her but behind the humour in his eyes, she could see a noticeable fear. He was terrified but through his terror, he still managed to bring a small but unimpressed smile to her face. "I like getting kisses for good luck."

"I thought I was an omen?" Lysara retorts with an arched brow.

"Aye, I did say that, didn't I? I meant what I said so I'm taking nothing back..." Daramyr tells her, a small smirk appearing on his face. "You are an omen, that is true...but a good one I think."

The Eyrie

Sansa Stark

"A lemon cake, my Lady?" A handmaiden asked, holding a small cake to her but Sansa dismissed her and continued to write her letter.

"No," Sansa said impassively, unable to look the handmaiden in the eye. "You may take your leave."

"My Lady-"

"Go," Sansa interrupted, her voice a hushed whisper as she stared at the ink that slowly dripped from her quill onto the table.

The handmaiden fell silent and bowed her head, placing the lemon cake back on the tray and placed the silver tray on a nearby table that was next to her bed before the young brown haired woman hastily left the darkened room. Sansa frowned as she stared at the letter underneath the candle light, she sucked in a breath and let a small sigh escape passed her lips, continuing where she had left off. Sansa looked at the burning candle, the fire dancing in her blue eyes and she felt content if that was possible. The fire was all she had at that moment, the fire and an old dog.

Sansa was content at the fact she was alone and the only noise was a snoring dog and the scratching of the quill on parchment. All she could disturbingly think of was how the untrustworthy Lord Baelish or as he wanted her to call him, Petyr shoved her aunt Lysa from the moon door. Her auburn hair was curling against her face as she stared down at the plea she was in the middle of writing with tears in her eyes.

Jon,

I once loved Joffrey with all my beating heart; I admired and trusted his mother, the Queen Cersei. My love and trust was repaid with my father's head and my mother
and brother's deaths. I have treated you so horribly. I was a stupid little girl who never learned but I promise if you find her, I will never make that same mistake again.
Please, Jon. I am alone as is Lysara and Arya, I want us to go home. You are all I have left. You are the last brother I have. I only have you and my sisters. You have
changed from a boy to a crow but I have changed too; from porcelain to ivory and then to steel. I know that Lysara is somewhere in the North, Lord Baelish told me and
I now know that Arya is still alive. I have sent letters to all the other Northern Lords that are still loyal to House Stark but it is not enough, it will never be enough. I know
Lysara and I know that she will travel to the Wall. I need you to help me find them.
Sansa.

Sansa shakily placed the quill back in the ink pot and looked at her cursive and delicate hand before she slumped in her hard, wooden chair. It may have been elegant in the Eyrie but there was no softness to it, it was meant to be light yet here she was, encased and hidden in the darkness, in the shadows that were created by the light. Sansa may be safe here but she did not feel it home nor did she know how long she would be safe in the Eyrie with the likes of Petyr Baelish at her side.

The Eyrie was not Winterfell. It was not her home and how she longed for her home and for her sisters and the last brother that remained to her. In her letter, she meant every word to Jon but she had no idea of when nor where she could send it. It was a dangerous move she was making at this moment, conspiring against Lord Baelish's wishes but it did not matter to her, Lysara and Arya were her sisters. They were both missing. Her little sister Arya with her needle and fierceness. Her older sister Lysara with her fire and knowledge.

Sansa knew if she was going to play the game, she needed to know what her supposed allies wanted from her first before she knew what her enemies desired and in doing so she found that evening, a letter addressed to Lord Baelish and hid it on her body. The ageing and blind dog was startled, letting out a quiet and pained noise and she looked down at the dog who was pawing at the purple skirts of her dress. The dog was no direwolf and the dog was no Lady but he would do. The letter had come to shock her when she discovered the contents of the letter and it seemed the information she now possessed could end her life. The letter told her of how a boy with hair of silver and purple of eye was attempting to take Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton.

Aegon Targaryen, she thought as she slowly picked up the folded letter and reread it. He intends to find my sister too. The letter said that Aegon intends to take the North and in doing so, will marry the heir to the North, Lysara Stark. All she could hold for Littlefinger was suspicion as she did not know who had wrote him the letter but it also explained how tension was growing between House Martell, Lannister and Tyrell due to his arrival in Westeros.

My sister is the key to the North, she thought. That is why all the Northern houses are after her. I doubt they do it for the love they held for my father or my brother.She looked down to the frightful dog who was letting out a small whines, the dog looked as if the Stranger had appeared to take his very soul, so she tried to calm him by gently stroking his ear but her brows furrowed when she noticed a dangling gold chain in his mouth and leant down, taking it slowly from his mouth and she recoiled at the wet touch.

"What is this?" Sansa asked the dog, placing the letter down next to her own. She handed the old dog a lemon cake to devour before she held the gold locket nearer her face to inspect. Robin Arryn, the engraving on the locket read causing her brows to furrow deeply at this. "This is Robin's...Why do you have this? Where did you find this?"

The dreadful and sickly boy must have been in her room earlier, she stared at the locket intently and wondered why he would have such a feminine locket until she opened it and that is when she began to cry softly, a river of tears falling from her eyes. Lysara. It was her sister's portrait. Sansa has come to loathe being near Sweet Robin as all he talked about was how her sister was kinder and how she would never have hit him like she did.

She knew that her sister wrote letters to their lonely cousin in the Vale and she wondered if Robin has done this to hurt her. Her sister was about ten and eleven in the portrait and she thought of Arya. They share the same wild hair, she thought to herself. And the same grey eyes except Arya's are fierce while Lysara's are sad. Our sister always did have such sad eyes. Sansa let her eyes flutter close and she pressed the locket to her lips, placing gentle kisses on it as she wept.

You are my daughter as is Arya, as is Lysara, Her father told her. You are sisters. Your blood is their blood. You are she wolves of Winterfell. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

You will be Alayne Stone, Petyr informed her. You will be my bastard.

"No," Sansa bit stubbornly as she dug her heels into the stone floor and stared ahead at the candle light as she placed the locket on the table next to the letter for her brother. "I am not Alayne Stone. I will never be Alayne Stone. I am not the bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish nor will I ever be. I am not a caged bird. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell. I am the daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. And I am free. I am a she wolf of Winterfell and I will find my sisters and I will go home."

Sansa slowly began to rise from her chair and walked towards the doors to the balcony of her chambers, gently pushing them open and was greeted with a soft wind that blew her hair softly in the wind and flakes of snow caressed her pale face. All the stars danced that night with the little flakes of snow as she looked out at the snowy Vale, she sighed and thought of her brother that bears the same name. Jon Snow. All she could think of was her brother and her sisters. I am hunted, just like Lysara. I am hidden, just like Arya. I am a bastard, just like Jon.

And she would give anything to see their faces and hear their voices once more.

Author's Note: Hey, I hope you like this chapter dedicated to the three sisters! The next chapter will be up soon and will have two major things, the Battle of Castle Black and Aegon vs Ramsay. I would like to thank all of you for taking the time to read this story, for making it one of your favourites and for following it. I would also like to give special thanks to everyone who has reviewed, they mean a lot to me and if you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Reviews-

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you, I hope you like this chapter!

enuji1799: There is and has been a lot of foreshadowing in this story but Lysara is a phoenix in a metaphorical sense but it was due to her powers that Rickon was brought back.

Ying and Yang-Balance: Thank you! Lysara is about seventeen now.

celticank: Thank you, I can say that Aegon will come to find out about Jon but I won't mention how he finds out about it.

alex love panteli: Thanks!

RHatch89: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it!

Roose's Leech: A lot of this story will have elements from the books and the show, I wanted to stick with Missandei's age and I did want to add more involvement with Quaithe in Daenerys. I write her pov based on the part where she dreams of Quiathe in A Dance with Dragons.

Arianne Le Fay: Thank you, I hope you like chapter twenty three! The reunion between Lysara and Jon will be in the chapters to come and as for what House Umber want, I won't be mentioning anything until the next chapter!

ATP: Thank you, I'm glad you think so. In a way, all Targaryen's are near the edge of madness and Aegon will be no exception except he has the ability to control himself and I want to prove that in this story.

Guest 1: Thanks!

Saint River: I noticed that with all the mythology in ASOIAF and Game of Thrones, there was never any phoenixes so I thought I should add and make my own lore for them because they always have been a favourite of mine. There will be more lore about them to come so I can't say much about them yet without ruining it because in the few chapters after this there will be more mentioned about them. The connection to Lysara and the phoenix is more of metaphorical sense and she did bring him back through R'hllor's power and not through tears because I agree with it taking the impact away from it. I'm glad you like the three moments with Jon, Aegon and Daenerys and the twist on the prophecy. While I like writing pov's with Lysara, I also like writing about various other characters and I hope I managed to keep them in character. Ser Jorah has kept Daenerys ignorant over many things but that will change in chapters to come, unlike Ser Jon with Aegon. I haven't read the books in ages and will probably reread them at some point but there is a lot of things from the books that weren't on the show that will be interpreted into this story and there will be a lot of allegiances getting struck and promises getting made in chapter's to come.

Maester Aemon: Thank you, I have enjoyed writing this a lot. If I am on track with the story and what will go in each chapter I write, Stannis, Melisandre and Davos will be making their appearance in chapter twenty five or six.

Guest 2: I hope you like this update!

xdaniellelsetonx: Thank you!

Guest 3: Thank you!