It was hot. He was in some sort of arena, filled with hundreds of people, cheering in a language that he did not understand. Ah, he remembered what Maester Luwin called that sort of place, it was a fighting pit. Fighting pits were common in Essos, where slaves and free men from every corner of the world went there to fight one another to the death, a spectacle were thousands would pay in coin to watch. Warriors, wearing different forms of armor, wielding different weapons stepped out of cells on either side of the arena and bowed towards a woman with silver-gold hair, dressed in white. He did not know who the woman was, but he did recognize the woman behind her. It was Sansa! Sansa was watching the woman in white carefully, being very silent. Lady stood by her, casually watching everything that happened in the pit.

Then, one of the warriors on the pit raised his spear towards the woman in white, but his spear pierced the man behind her. Soon, chaos descended upon the fighting pit. Men in golden masks started to appear and killed everyone in sight. The woman in white, along with Sansa and the rest of her attendants started to descend from their special pavilion, and ran towards the many gates around the arena, where there were Targaryen flags all over it. Wait... Targaryen flags? Where was Sansa anyway?

It didn't matter, for soon, the woman in white, Sansa and the others were cornered. They tried door after door, but everywhere, the masked men surrounded them, herding them towards the center of the arena. The woman in white looked at the dark-skinned girl beside her, and then at Sansa. The three of them held hands while the men around them continued to fight off their attackers. They closed their eyes, ready to accept death.

A deafening roar filled the sky, followed by a column of fire.

Bran woke up startled. Usually, the dreams that he had seen with his gifts were of the three-eyed crow, and not anything else. This time though, he saw Sansa, in a different part of the world that he could not recognize, surrounded by Targaryen flags and out of a sudden, a dragon flew in, burning everything in sight. No one would believe what he saw, not even Jojen or Meera.

"You know, it is possible," Meera said. "Our Father said that when the Lannisters sacked King's Landing, Viserys Targaryen and Queen Rhaella, who was pregnant with Daenerys, were spirited to Dragonstone. When King Robert sent his brother Stannis to Dragonstone, the Targaryens escaped. The woman in white you saw, she could be Daenerys Targaryen already grown-up."

"What does my sister Sansa have anything to do with the Targaryens?" Bran asked. "Isn't she in King's Landing, held by the Lannisters?"

"We've been in the wilds for so long, Bran, who knows what could have happened to your sister?" Jojen returned. "You can't do anything about her. If she's in a fighting pit, she's in Essos, and not even the three-eyed crow can fly that far to reach her in time."

Bran sighed. "I know," he said, a little sad. "I just hope that she's safe."

"You Starks are well-protected by the Old Gods," Meera comforted him. "Don't worry."

Then, they heard a fell voice in the cold, night air. Hodor heard it, and he was startled. "Hodor!" he exclaimed, looking around him in fear.

"Is that a baby?" Meera asked.

Jojen could not confirm if it was. However whatever it was, it was approaching them rather quickly. "It's coming," he said to the others.

"I'm going out there," Bran said.

"No, we have to stay together!" Meera countered.

Bran ignored Meera and started to warg into Summer. Once he could see with Summer's eyes, he made Summer move forwards, where the baby's cries were louder and louder. However, he did not find any baby, but a familiar sight. A white direwolf, locked in a shed. It was Ghost... He could have approached Ghost, but he was immediately cast out of Summer's mind.

"Bran!" Meera called towards him when he was awake.

"Summer, he's hurt," Bran proclaimed. "They've caught him in a trap."

"Who?"

"I didn't see, but they have my brother's wolf. They have Ghost!"

The next morning, they followed the trail that Summer had left, which led them into something like a large hut with several other huts surrounding them. There were women, their expressions sad and empty, walking around, mixed with men dressed fully in black.

"They're Night's Watch, look!" Bran exclaimed. "Jon might be here."

Meera disagreed with him. "If Jon was here, why would they put his wolf in a cage?" she asked.

It was a valid reason, thus, they continued their watch. The men were obviously unwelcome in a way. The women were whimpering whenever they touched them.

"They might have been Night's Watch once, not anymore," Meera said, after seeing how the women were treated. "We're not safe here... We need to go."

"No," Bran challenged. "I'm not leaving without Summer."

Meera and Jojen shared a look, and finally Meera relented. "Do you remember where the cage was?" she asked Bran.

"The east side of the keep,"

Meera nodded and stood up, starting to leave for the cage, saying, "If I'm not back soon, we'll meet..." She was struck in the head by the blunt of someone's sword, and fell unconscious. Before Hodor could do anything, they were already surrounded.

Jojen, Bran and Meera were brought into the main hut, where a thin man with small, beady eyes sat on a large chair, surrounded by his lackeys.

"Help him up," the man said, when the others left Bran flat on his face. The man walked towards him, feeling the material of the clothes he wore. "This is nice... fine leather. You're important, highborn. Who are you?"

Bran did not answer. He knew that if he did, he would have given away their position. With Robb fighting in the South, claiming independence of the North, he would have been an easy target for any enemy of their family. For his silence, Bran was slapped by the man, so hard that his lip split.

"You see, where I come from, a commoner like me slaps a little lord like you, I'd lose my right hand," the man explained. "But we're a long way from home, aren't we?" He turned towards Meera and Jojen. "And the two of you... fancy looking folks north of the Wall, creeping through the woods. Isn't that a bit odd?"

He then started to reach for Meera's hair. "I like your curls," he said. "My mom had curls like that, beautiful brown curls. Why'd you drag a crippled boy all the way up here?" Meera only grimaced in anger. She did not appreciate the way he was touching her. "See, you haven't played this game before. A highborn hostage, that's valuable," he said, pointing at Bran. "But three of them... that's a lot of mouths to feed."

Jojen started to slump to the floor and froth at the mouth. He was having another Greensight vision. Meera sought to go to him, lest he bite off his own tongue, but she was held back by the man. "Please, let me go to him," Meera begged.

"Who are you?" the man demanded. Meera did not answer, but continued to beg him to free her from his hold. "Who are you?"

At that point, Bran knew that there was no turning back. "I'm Brandon Stark!" he answered. "I'm Brandon Stark of Winterfell!"

"It's Jon Snow's brother!" one of the men exclaimed, looking right at him.

Having had his answer, the man sheathed his dagger, letting Meera tend to Jojen. "And I thought this was gonna be another boring day..."

"Bran!"

Sansa woke up in cold sweat, taking sharp intakes of air. Her awakening was so sudden that she had startled Ellaria and Oberyn. Even Lady, who was sleeping on the floor, next to their large bed was startled, whimpering at Sansa.

"My love, what is it?" Ellaria asked her, turning her head to face her, while Oberyn kissed her shoulder. "What did you see?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I... I saw Bran..." Sansa said, stroking Lady's head. "He's North of the Wall, with two other children and Hodor, a simpleton from home. He was in a Wildling keep... The Night's Watch... men from the Night's Watch were holding them hostage...

"That's impossible," Oberyn said. "Men of the Night's Watch do not take highborn children hostage, at either side of the Wall. Unless, those men have gone rogue."

"Robb's at the Wall now, he has to know this," Sansa said, almost jumping off the bed to find pen and paper to write Robb a message. "Robb and Jon will find him."

"Sansa..." Ellaria said, trying to calm her down. Sansa had already found some paper and ink, but she was shaking so furiously that she almost spilled the inkpot. They had learned that Sansa would often be visibly... shaken after each vision. It was as if she was drowning and had suddenly received a gasp of air. She would become almost comatose when she was having her visions, her eyes would turn white and cloudy, and more a short moment, she would not have the strength to stand. "My love... you must take time to recover first, no?"

"We don't have time," Sansa rebutted. "I don't know if it's happening now, or it's already happened..."

"Sansa, if they know who Bran is, they will not be so foolish as to killing him immediately," Oberyn said, walking over to Sansa, gently removing the quill from her hand. Gently, he kissed each of her hand and held them in his. It was strange... she was still shaking. "Write the letter in the morning, my love. Come back to bed."

In the very least, Sansa relented. She let Oberyn carry her back to the bed, and she buried herself in his embrace. Ellaria put her arms around her waist, and she closed her eyes. What did she do to deserve the two of them? "Oh, my love," Ellaria cooed. "You are strong, and you must remain so for your family."

"We will speak to the Maester," Oberyn suggested. "We shall tell him to send a raven directly to Castle Black, to act in all haste."

"First thing in the morning," Sansa stressed. "Please, wake me up..."

"Yes, my love," Ellaria said, gently humming a lullaby into her ear, singing until she slept. After Sansa was deep asleep, she looked towards Oberyn, who looked even more perplexed than he had let on. She did not need telling to know that his thoughts lingered on Sansa. Something had happened, something that they had never realized before. Their Sansa was filled with so much fire, but yet after each vision, her skin would grow cold, and her breathing would be unstable. She had recovered quickly the first few times before. But this time... this time, she was still shaking, even though she was sound asleep, when she saw Daenerys Targaryen before the pyramids of Meereen, she had taken just as long to recover, but this time, she had gone to sleep still cold and shaking. "I fear for her, lover," she told Oberyn. "This gift that she has, it is not a gift at all. It is a curse. The more she sees..."

Oberyn could only nod silently. He knew the effects of the Greensight on her more than anyone. Yet, he knew that it was one of the few advantages that they had over their enemies. Sansa could see through space and time. She could see what has yet to happen with such clarity that their reports would come faster that Varys' whispers. She could even see through the glamors maintained by Faceless Men... S"Greensight is a gift that the Children of the Forest had," he explained to Ellaria. "Very few humans could have it, and nothing is known about those who actually do. We do not know what will happen to her in the long term, if she continues to use her powers as she does now."

"The Gods are cruel," Ellaria spat. "To bless her with such a gift, one that gives her so much power and yet takes her away from us, bit by bit."

"The Gods are cruel," Oberyn agreed. "But we must make sure that she knows no more bitterness. Our Sansa has suffered so much, that we should endeavor to give her the victory she deserves." He had sworn to her that he would protect her, but he did not know how to protect her from herself, from her own destiny. He heaved a sigh of relief when her breathing had returned to normal, and some of her color had returned. There was once that he had hoped that he would have the fortune to grow old with her, to give her sons and daughters if she so wished, but now he hoped that she would live to see the glory of their victories. If he could, he would ask the Gods to take their gift to her back, so that she could live a life of quiet.

As much as he wanted to, he knew that it was impossible. All they could do was to move with what has been given to them. Looking at his sleeping wife, he swore to her in silence that he would give her every happiness that was his to grant her. It had pained him to see her so eager, so eager to help her family, to find her place in the world, yet at such a terrible cost. He remembered when they were in Volantis, how she had shone in the presence of the Triach Maegyr, how eloquently she had spoken of her brother's pursuits and the nature of Westeros, how she had comforted Talisa's mother... Sansa was meant for politics, she was meant to take on her role.

Now all he could do was to hold her, to cherish every moment he had with her. In another life, in a different Westeros, perhaps he would have went all the way to Winterfell to beg Ned Stark for her hand to mend the wounds between their families. He could do little else.

"Lord Tywin, reports have returned... Sansa Stark was not in any of the Martell wheelhouses," Lancel Lannister reported to Tywin. Lannister spies throughout Westeros had brought in reports, saying that they had spotted wheelhouses bearing the Martell and Stark sigils. There were four in total, but Lancel had only brought him to see three of them, each stuck with arrows, but in otherwise pristine condition.

"What about the fourth?" Tywin asked. "Where is it?"

Lancel gulped. "It... it was last seen at Lannisport, aboard a ship heading North," he answered. "There was no news about it after that."

Tywin scowled. "We have been duped, then," he said. "Send for Tyrion. Tell him to meet me in my study immediately."

Lancel nodded and bowed, hurrying off to find his son. The Martells were testing his patience. They have more than enough reason to. But what was their goal? Vengeance? Oberyn Martell already had what he wanted: the death of Gregor Clegane for Elia's rape and murder. Joffrey's cruelty to Sansa? He had already paid it with his death. What more could they want? With Myrcella in their hands, he knew that his actions could not be too drastic. Cersei might have been a fool, but she loved her children. If anything was to happen to the surviving two, she would descend into a spiral that could be a detriment to all his plans, and he could not risk it.

"I heard about the carriages," Tyrion said. "It seems that Sansa Stark is still safely in Dorne, then."

"She might be, or she might not," Tywin replied. "One of the carriages escaped our agents. It took off from Sunspear, stopping at Lannisport where we'd never think to look. It might well be on its way North now."

"So, you still want me to go to Dorne then?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes," Tywin answered. "If Sansa Stark is not there, we will call our banners and strike Sunspear if we have to."

Tyrion disagreed with his father. "I still don't think that it's wise to attack Dorne in retaliation over so trivial a thing," he reasoned. "What if she's on another trip to Essos with Prince Oberyn?"

"The last time she went on a trip to Essos, the Volantene fleet was raised in Robb Stark's name. I do not think that it is a coincidence," Tywin shot back. "Dorne always had trading relations with Volantis, and House Martell has cordial relations with House Maegyr, who have successfully been Triachs for many years now..."

"Alright, so I go to Dorne," Tyrion said, relenting. "What happens if she's still there? What should we do then?"

"Take Myrcella back with you and make it clear that Prince Trystane is to follow her," Tywin said. "We'll offer Oberyn's seat on the Small Council to him. If Doran wouldn't come to King's Landing then let his son come." By bringing Prince Trystane to King's Landing, Myrcella's role as hostage would be reversed. Their betrothal would still stand, but now Trystane would be insurance against any Dornish insurgence against the Crown. Dorne was brought into the fold by marriage, and it would always be bound to the Crown thusly. Let them have their hedonistic ways, let them worship however they wanted, but their freedoms would always be guarded by a scion of House Martell. It was what bound them to the Targaryens and it would be what binds them to Houses Lannister and Baratheon. "If they refuse, we shall test their claims if Dorne really has fifty thousand spears hiding in its deserts."

Tyrion nodded. "The ship's going to be ready to sail in three days," he said. "Just wait for my reports. Don't do anything before you receive them."

"Who do you take me for?" Tywin huffed, offended that Tyrion would even think that he would act rashly, as though he had not known him at all.

HAN: Yay, Bran makes a debut in the fic! I do realize that there's no need for Locke to be in the Night's Watch at all, since well, the Mormonts practically killed off the Boltons under Robb's orders. So there's that.

Yes, that scene that Bran saw is the Fighting Pit scene in Dance of the Dragons as in Season 5 Episode 9. I like to think that while Sansa can more or less see what happens in real time, but in faraway places, Bran can see the future.

Might Greensight cause Sansa any true detriment? Well, no one can be sure yet. It could just be a scare, or... it could not.

Enjoy!