The Princess That Was Promised: Visenya Targaryen

by Bardura

When Visenya Targaryen, second of her name, is about to die because of a spear wound she's got while fighting the Night King, she momentarily closes her eyes and asks the Gods for a second chance. When she opens her eyes the next time, she suddenly finds herself in Dragonstone 172 years ago, just before the Dance of Dragons. f!JonSnow/Daemon Targaryen

8. Changing Destines Part 3

WINTERFELL.

THE DUNGEONS.

THE GUARDS OF THE DRAGONWOLF.

When Jaime Lannister reopened his eyes, he realized he was in a dungeon this time, as the cold dampness of the Winterfell seeped into his bones.

The air was dense with the smell of mildew and rot, with the only light coming from small, barred windows far above. He was encircled by rough-hewn, old stone walls. Rusty chains dangled from the ceiling, evidence of a period when this location was frequently used. The floor under him felt hard and unyielding, with scattered straw and hay providing little comfort.

As his senses returned one by one, Jaime placed his palm on his heart to ensure he was still alive. His heart was racing, his chest ached, his mind was still hazy, and nothing made sense.

It made no sense at all.

He should have died, so why and how was he still alive?

Jaime gulped and glanced at the dungeon's stone walls for a few seconds, his mind racing with depressing thoughts. But as he turned his head towards the ancient dungeon door and realized he was not alone in the chamber, an inexplicable sense of appreciation and trust washed over him. At least he wasn't alone in his suffering.

First, his eyes were drawn to Ser Arthur Dayne, the famed swordsman and his own tutor, whose constant focus on the centuries-old door suggested that he was already plotting their escape. Despite their dreadful circumstances, Arthur's presence gave him a glimmer of hope for a brief moment, a belief that they might overcome their plight, but Jaime's optimism swiftly faded as the memory of Arthur's unjustified attack resurfaced.

Jaime was overcome with bitterness and rage as he remembered the blow. His jaw still ached from Arthur's hit, but it was the mistrust and misunderstanding that stung the most. Arthur appeared to have thought worse of him once more, and Jaime was tired of having to explain and justify himself over and over.

As he opened his mouth, intending to confront Arthur, Jaime's weariness suddenly became more palpable. With a tired sigh, he let the words die on his lips, recognizing that he lacked the strength to engage in further conflict. He resolved to wait at least a few seconds before yelling at

his old mentor. At least until the pain in his chest ceased reflecting the pain in his heart, a constant reminder of the fractured trust between them.

Jaime's attention was drawn next by Tormund's frantic pace. Even though he kept pacing and massaging his shoulder in agony and anguish, Jaime could sense the wildling's aggressive and threatening personality even from where he lay.

As he was ready to snort at the man, Jaime remembered what Tormund had screamed just before he had passed out from Arthur's blow. Tormund, who was always ready to flaunt his wildling nature, couldn't help but remind everyone of his roots, as if anybody were unaware of them. It seemed as if the wild man thrived on inciting conflict with the Northmen, as if confrontation was a form of pleasure or a good way to spend some time.

Tormund's presence at Winterfell has become more accepted and normalized over time. He was the wild man who always trailed behind Visenya like a giant shadow, offering protection and peppering the conversations around him with sometimes sassy, most of the time sarcastic, and annoying remarks. His outspokenness was tolerated, if not encouraged, there. Because, with Visenya around, everyone in Winterfell felt free to be themselves.

Visenya, a formidable and imposing figure in her own right, had a unique knack for making people feel at ease in her presence. She had instilled a spirit of honesty and openness, which is unusual in the South's typically politically heated culture. Her intense loyalty and unwavering spirit had gained her the respect of everybody around her, including those Southern idiots who firmly believed in the religion of seven, and by consequence, Tormund and his blunt humor were welcomed as part of her entourage.

In this grim situation they had found themselves in, however, Jaime felt that both Tormund and his filthy mouth definitely put all of them in a vulnerable position. When Visenya was not present, the man once again demonstrated his inability to keep his mouth shut, as he was a perpetual troublemaker.

This is why it felt like no surprise to Jaime that they ended up here, in this dismal dungeon, or that they lost the fight. Considering their numbers, the injuries they still carried, and the small fact that they had a wildling with them, it was almost inevitable.

Jaime rolled his eyes at the predictability of it all and moved his sight to Arya Stark, who was sitting on the ground across the room.

Jaime had conflicting thoughts regarding the girl. To him, she was a paradox—ferocious but kind, brutal but moral. She was dangerous, that was the only thing certain.

When Visenya was around, her soothing voice and severe eye always persuaded them into partnership, making it easier to understand why Arya Stark has done the things she has done.

After losing most of her family, Arya had dedicated her whole life to safeguarding her cousin. However, no matter how much he understood and attempted to make amends with the girl, Jaime never completely trusted her. And her presence in the depths of Winterfell's dungeon was serving as a harsh reminder of the intricate web of loyalties and betrayals that had led them to this point.

Jaime could still remember the icy satisfaction in Arya's eyes as she recounted the moment she had killed Cersei, Tyrion, and all the men of House Frey. It was chilling, and yet he had understood it. Cersei had been a monster, a curse on the earth, and Tyrion, his once-beloved brother, had succumbed to the same madness that devoured Cersei. And Walder Frey had betrayed the Starks in the most horrific way. Their deaths, however heinous, had created a perverse feeling of justice. And it also proved Arya was indeed loyal.

However, life and his experiences had taught Jaime that there was a difference between loyalty and too much loyalty.

Too much loyalty blinds you, Jaime had discovered with time. It makes you feel entitled no matter what you have done or how far you have gone in the name of those you wanted to protect. If you stop being cautious even for a second, it consumes you by making you feel obsessed with the idea of loyalty itself. It makes you make mistakes—huge mistakes and cruel mistakes—by ultimately slaying that kind and sane part of your soul. Most importantly, it makes you dangerous to the individuals to whom you claim loyalty. Because after a while, the idea of being loyal becomes more important than being loyal itself.

Jaime knew all of this because he has personally seen how extreme allegiance can distort one's sense of right and wrong.

Once upon a time, the kingguard's blind loyalty nearly drove the realm to burning. Being compelled to watch Aerys become madder with each passing day and doing nothing to stop it in the name of loyalty and duty felt like a great burden on his shoulders on those days.

Then, just when he felt he was finally free, his blind allegiance to Cersei had led him down a road of moral compromise and self-destruction. He'd performed horrific things in her name, rationalizing each as necessary for her survival and pleasure. It wasn't until he witnessed the horrible extent to which she was ready to go to keep her hold on power that he finally realized how deeply he had been entangled by his own misguided allegiance.

Arya Stark, with her unwavering devotion to her family and Visenya, reminded Jaime of himself in his darkest moments. He could see the same ferocity in her eyes—the same unwavering determination that had once consumed him. As seen by her past actions, Arya was prepared to go to any lengths, cross any line, and commit any atrocity to defend her loved ones and exact revenge on those who had wronged her family. She had killed without hesitation, assuming the identities of others and using deception and murder as her instruments.

Arthur kept telling Jaime that Arya could be rescued from the darkness she had fallen into after Ned Stark's death, that she could change, and that it was not yet time to do any damage control, but Jaime had doubts because Arthur himself was constantly watching Arya with alert eyes, ready to do anything and everything if she betrayed them.

Because even he confessed once that while Arya's commitment to Visenya was undeniable, the lengths she would go to in the name of that allegiance were hazardous.

Loyalty might be so easily perverted into something evil and terrible, as both Kingsguards agreed long ago. Furthermore, Arya possessed the same ability to harm Visenya as Sansa Stark. Even for that, she had to be observed. Controlled. And, if necessary, to be stopped before she caused any more collateral damage with her idea of unwavering loyalty.

This is why, seeing Arya's visage filled with unshakable determination and a calm demeanor mask a brewing storm despite the crushing weight of their imprisonment, Jaime did not know what to think or whether he should really trust the girl or not. It was a feature he had seen on both Visenya's and Arya's faces several times throughout their tumultuous journey, a tribute to the inner strength that flowed deep within them. They were survivors, warriors formed in the crucibles of suffering and grief. Respected and admired even by his own father, Tywin Lannister, for the fire that burned within them.

Yet, what if it was all just a game? What if Arya betrayed Visenya as well, just like her sister?

What if he failed once again?

And where the fuck was Visenya?

Jaime shifted uncomfortably where he lay, the cold stone floor pressing into his back. Moments passed as he calmly observed his fellow companions, wondering and fretting. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he gently rose from the ground, clearing his throat to catch the others' attention.

The weight of anger and pain was still etched into his features. Yet, only brief glances from the others met him immediately before they returned to their own brooding thoughts. Jaime's gaze bore into Arthur, holding resentment for the predicament they found themselves in once more, his hand reflexively reaching for a sword that was no longer at his side. The sudden movement caused his chest to ache, painfully and grimly reminding him of all the wounds he had suffered in the long battle.

As he slowly rubbed his chest in pain, his hard gaze still on Arthur's back, he opened his mouth to ask what the fuck was going on. But Arthur beat him to it, clearly knowing Jaime was looking for a fight.

"Don't you dare look at me like that?" Arthur's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, devoid of emotion as he addressed Jaime without even turning towards him. "You know you deserved it. But since we have no idea what the fuck is going on, we are going to have this conversation in private, not in front of everyone."

Jaime's jaw clenched at the rebuke, realizing the necessity of discretion in their current circumstances, yet adrenaline was still coursing through his veins and his blood was still boiling. At that moment, things like how they were alive, why they were alive, and where Visenya was meant like secondary thoughts, and what mattered the most was pushing his mentor's buttons to find out what the fuck was wrong with him.

Tormund stopped pacing and gave him such an amusing look that Jaime was not able to understand what he actually meant. Meanwhile, Arya's eyes quickly darted between Jaime and Arthur, and then, after rolling her eyes, she started muttering, "Men, why did I have to-" but then immediately stopped after Arthur gave her a pointed look, his scowl deepening.

"You," said Arthur, interrupting Arya with a tone that was clearly intended to be lectuary, "and me are going to have a LONG talk about that shit you tried to pull during the battle. Do not think I was not aware of what the fuck you were doing with Sandor, young lady."

Arya cleared her throat and averted her eyes, quickly muttering, "It's not like I did not have it all under control." Brooding, she started to play with a straw, her back stiff.

"LATER." Arthur insisted, raising his voice and his posture, emphasizing how irritated he was with Arya right now.

"Now that we've settled all that," Tormund said, deliberately neutralizing his tone, as if he had expected them to start fighting and he was the only sane person in the room. "Let's take a short break from our internal squabbles and see if you idiots can figure out a way out of here. As I... well, I'm just going to listen at the door. The guards will change soon, and dinner will be served, I think. And-"

"Hopefully, soon. I can't remember the last time I have eaten anything proper." Arya muttered. "I don't know which one is the worst—my wounds that keep bleeding or the sudden hunger I feel in my stomach."

"For me, being stuck here with you guys. My worst nightmare." Arthur replied, his harsh gaze still on Arya.

Arya tried really hard not to glare back at Arthur, as she was already in trouble with him.

"ANYWAY." Tormund continued, clearly pissed that Arya had cut his speech. "At any moment, we could be summoned by whoever those men were, so if we're going to do anything, we need to be ready. Talk among yourselves as I try to listen to the outside. I hear some pacing."

"Oh my," Jaime said, in a mock scandalised voice, "what a great plan, Tormund. It's truly a wonder you survived this long without Visenya."

Tormund shrugged his shoulders and then groaned in pain as he approached the ancient door. Gently rubbing his shoulders with his hands, he put his ear to the door and squinted his eyes as he focused on the noise outside. "The pacing has stopped, but clearly somebody is outside. It might be two. Hmm."

"How can we talk amongst ourselves when you are trying to listen outside, you fool?" Arya asked in surprise.

"I have excellent hearing; don't worry, young wolf," Tormund declared as he continued to listen. "Do not worry. Aside from the fact that Visenya likes me a lot, there's a reason I'm still here despite Arthur's frequent chastising of me for hanging out with her so much."

Arthur rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath, plainly loathing the day they met Tormand when Visenya was seven. He would have taken both Tormund and Mance's heads if Visenya had not begged prettily. Damn her cute, adorable eyes.

"I've heard that as well. You're lucky; I like you, Artie." Tormund said with a glee.

"Stop calling me that before I punch you, Tormund. This is my last warning," Arthur said, clearly pissed that Visenya's nickname for him was being used by other people.

"I'll have you guys know that I was right." Tormund continued after a few seconds, "There are at least two people out there, maybe three, but one of them is shorter or younger since he takes a smaller step. Hmm, somebody was stomping their feet, but they stopped. Interesting."

Arthur and Arya shared a quick look between them as he showed the door with his head and then the ceiling. In reply, Arya leaned her head to the side and thought for a few seconds before only ending up nodding. Arthur let out another sigh and crossed his arms as she shrugged. Jaime watched the whole thing with amazement, feeling pissed that he was being kept out of whatever the fuck was going on.

"What the fuck is your guys problem?" Jaime asked in anger.

"Later means later, Jaime. For a reason." Arhur said, his attention still at the door. The more he refused to turn towards Jaime, the more anger Jaime felt. He felt like exploding. He was so fed up with the lack of answers. Yet he tried to be a better man. With a resigned nod, he tried to be acquiesced, begrudgingly acknowledging Arthur's wisdom.

As Tormund continued to listen outside, their collective silence hung heavy in the air, each member of their unlikely group steeling themselves for the challenges that lay ahead in the depths of Winterfell. Yet Jaime's blood was still boiling.

Boiling.

Boiling.

He really, really wanted to punch Arthur back at that moment.

So, it was no surprise that he only lasted a half minute.

"It's just..." he began, his voice tinged with frustration, "Did you really have to hit me? I thought that we were... in a good place before you know, died in my arms." Grimacing in pain, he lifted his hand to his face to check for any signs of blood, then turned his gaze back to Arthur's stoic figure.

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly without turning back, which was part of the reason why Jaime was so annoyed with him at the moment. "Like I said earlier, you know very well why I hit you, Jaime." Arthur declared, his voice betraying no emotion.

"You keep saying that but I really have no fucking idea why you are so pissed with me." Jaime paused, wiping a drop of blood from his forehead that threatened to obscure his vision. Then suddenly he took a step towards Arthur, his anger mounting, "I'm really getting tired of your attitude," he said but then suddenly he faltered as a sudden surge of pain shot through his chest.

After a few coughs and a gentle rub of his chest, he decided to wait for the right moment to press on the subject and took another approach, this time to annoy his mentor. "So... why did you guys start a fight? And why did you lose the fight? Where is your sword? Where is my sword? Why are we here? Whose plan was this? Who do you think you are, the Morning Star ordering me around as in we are still in-"

Arthur let out a deep sigh, his hand moving to his head as he rubbed his temples wearily, his back still turned to Jaime.

Arya, sensing the tension escalating, tossed aside the straw she had been playing with and rose from the ground to intervene, only to have her lower back stiffen with a piercing pain. Biting her lip, she tried really, really hard not to moan in pain. This was not the time to tell the others how much pain she was still in due to her ongoing injuries, since it seemed like everyone was trying to hold back their own pain. Avoiding the pain in her back, she quickly placed herself between Jaime and Arthur, shielding the latter from Jaime's advancing anger. "Don't start again, please. It's way too early to hear one of your arguments. Especially when Lya is not around."

"Hey, I haven't even started yet, and I have a right to know," Jaime protested.

"Did we not all agree on the last pack meeting to not call her Lyarra since it kept feeding into her identity crisis, as Arthur put it?" Tormund cut in, taking his ear from the door for a second and turning his body slightly towards Arya.

"Look at you, using big words." Arya said, rolling her eyes, "Like I said in the meeting, I'll call my sister the way I want, andthis is the last time you get invited to a pack meeting. Snitchers do not get re-invinted."

"HEY!" Tormund said, suddenly walking right up to Arya to point his finger to her face, "You do not get to choose who would attend a pack meeting and who would not."

"Yes, I can. After Robb's death, the choice has always been mine." Arya said, giving Tormund a gentle push.

Arthur sighed once more and looked up, asking the gods to give him patience if they were listening.

"And what was I supposed to do when she froze where she stood because I called her Visenya? I had to explain that we had a meeting about it!"

"You did not have to tell her we had yet another secret meeting about her behind her back!"

"Children-" Arthur tried to cut in as Jaime watched the exchange between Tormund and Arya in disbelief with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

"You guys said you always have secret meetings about her behind her back, so I thought she would be fine with it!" Tormund said, stomping his foot.

"Who wouldn't mind her family having secret meetings about her, stupid?" Arya asked with a grimace. She still remembered how much Lyarra brooded about it (not that it was surprising) and had given everyone around her disapproval looks for a whole week.

"Then stop having them!" Tormund said, waving his hands angrily as he seethed at Arya.

"Children, are we really going to argue about pack meetings again instead of talking about..." Arthur tried to cut in one more time but his attention was diverted by Jaime taking a few steps back to look around the dungeon, searching for something.

"I can't," Arya said, her voice tinged with frustration and a hint of bitterness. "I literally had to beg Robb to let me in! And was immediately thrown out again. I had to wait for years to get back in!" She clenched her fists, her expression a mix of anger and betrayal. "Bran and even little Rickon could attend those meetings, but I was always forbidden. It still stings."

"For a good reason, you also snitched to her as well," Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples as his side eye was still on Jaime, who was busy with collecting all the straw and hay scattered on the ground.

"I was seven! It does not count!" Arya whined.

"Yes, it does count." Arthur replied calmly. "We held another meeting about it, voted, and agreed that you would not be allowed until you proved you were trustworthy. Remember?"

"It was only you and Robb. The vote does not count," Arya retorted.

Arthur sighed, still partly watching Jaime's odd task. "Not that it's really important right now, but I'll let you know Bran was actually allowed in the meeting and voted against you."

Arya let out a small shriek at the betrayal as Tormund's laughter rang out, filling the small dungeon they were in.

Arthur, trying hard to keep his composure, glanced around the small dungeon they were in. Tormund's laughter was echoing off the walls, Arya was on the brink of pouncing on someone, and Jaime was still busy with his odd task. Arthur sighed and pinched himself for the seventh time since waking up, hoping it was just a stupid nightmare. Unfortunately, it felt all too real

Seeing his seventh attempt fail, Arthur grimaced.

To think he told others to wait calmly for Jaime to wake up before they do anything else, only to end up with first him and now the others pushing his buttons. What an idiot he was.

This surely is a nightmare, he thought to himself once again.

Maybe he should have punched Jaime harder so that he slept longer and planned everything when he was sleeping. Or before worrying endlessly about everything and everyone when he woke up, he just should have taken Ghost and run away from Winterfell. Surely, Visenya was alive. Surely she would have found him and Ghost. Anything was better than being stuck in this dungeon with these idiots.

"I can't believe you betrayed me this way, Arthur!" Arya kept whining as Arthur was lost in his thoughts.

Arthur blinked, trying to focus his attention back on the room. "Just so you know, it had nothing to do with me." His voice sounded tired, even to his own ears. "Not that it's really important right now because we are supposed to be talking about things like how the fuck we are alive and what that has to do with you and Bran. We need to focus on the present."

Arya opened her mouth to protest, but her words were drowned out by Tormund's laughter.

"HA! You see, wolf girl! I'm not the only one." Tormund continued after calming down. "Just a few days ago, I accidentally called her Lyarra. Then I had to be tortured for a whole hour—a whole fucking hour—when I asked what the fuck an identity crisis was. So you have no place to talk at all."

"Me and Jaime didn't torture you, Tormund," Arthur said, keeping a calm demeanor while watching Jaime with a sidelong glance, ensuring another fight wouldn't break out. "We calmly explained to you what an identity crisis is and why you need to stop causing it if you want to stay in Winterfell. Now, can we focus on the real problem?"

"So why do you get to call her that when I can't?" Tormund asked, pointing his finger at Arya in anger again. "This is such a..." He paused and then suddenly turned back to Arthur, pointing his finger at him this time. "Calmly? You call that calmly? You threatened me by throwing me over the castle walls and then feeding me to the shadowcats! CALMLY? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT! AND WHY THE FUCK DO WE HAVE TO CALL HER VISENYA ANYWAYS?"

"Are we seriously going to argue about this now? Again? Right now? When we have so much more important stuff to talk about, like, " Arthur tried to cut in calmly, his hand going to his sword and them immediately pursing his lips when he noticed that his sword, the Dawn, was not there. Just another reason to kick Tormund's ass in the training ground after saving themselves from this dungeon.

"I MEAN, SHE IS CALLED DIFFERENT NAMES ALL THE FUCKING TIME." Tormund continued with passion, starting to count with his fingers, "THE PRINCES THAT WAS PROMISED, THE WHITE WOLF, THE QUEEN OF THE UNITED KINGDOMS OF NORTH AND OF THE FREE FOLK, THE DRAGONWOLF, THE ICE DRAGON-"

"Those are just nicknames and part of the reason why Lya was having an identity crises, idiot." Arya responded but Tormund continued counting like he was not interrupted.

"THE JEWEL OF THE REALM, THE BLACK BEAUTY, THE WATCHER OF THE NIGHT, THE DRAGON WHO DANCES WITH THE WOLVES, THE UNBURNT AND THE UNFROZEN-"

"HOW MANY TIMES I HAVE TO EXPLAIN TO YOU THE UNFROZEN WAS NOT A PROPER-" Arya yelled back, clenching her hands into fists in anger.

"IT'S PROPER." Tormund replied with passion. "IT'S PROPER. WE THE FREE FOLK HAVE NAMED HER AFTER THE HARDHOME."

"HOW DARE YOU-"

As Tormund and Arya continued their heated argument, under Arthur's watchful eyes, Jaime was finally able to scoop up all the straw and hay from the ground. After ending up next to Arthur with quick steps and ignoring his raised brows, Jaime quickly hurled all of the things he collected from the ground at Arya and Tormund from a few feet away.

Arya let out another shriek, Tormund froze in his tracks and then a few seconds of silence followed as Arthur closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh, resisting the urge to strangle himself. Arthur found himself wondering where Barristan the Bold was when he needed him the most. Surely this was a nightmare. It was a terrible nightmare he had to find a way to awaken.

"Can we stay focused on the main problem for once, please?" Jaime asked, putting as much of the annoyance he's feeling right now into his voice as he can. He glanced around the dimly lit dungeon, his hands spread out in bewilderment. "FOR FUCK'S SAKE. I still can't get used to this northern way of doing things! Stop changing the subject! Let's focus for once, and then we can have another meeting about what the fuck we can call Visenya. How about my queen? How about that?" Jaime let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked at Jaime, nodding in agreement. "He's right. We need to focus on immediate issues like how we are alive, why we are alive, and where the fuck is Visenya. Arguing about names won't help us."

"You are going to pay for this," Tormund muttered in a dangerous tone as he flapped his head and clothes. Arya nodded. "But continue, lion. All we do these days is just talk, talk, and talk, as if that can solve something."

Arya, still shaking off the straw, grumbled but reluctantly agreed. "Fine. Let's focus. But we're not done with this conversation."

Tormund chuckled, brushing the hay off his shoulders. "Aye, we'll finish this later. But for now, let's figure out how to fix this mess."

Jaime tried to reply in anger but paused, taking a long breath to calm down. He looked at Arthur, who watched them with a pained expression. "For fuck's sake," he muttered, sharing a look with Arthur that communicated their mutual understanding. After a few seconds, Jaime nodded, allowing Arthur to take control of the room.

Arthur straightened, regaining his composure. "Okay. I know this sucks." He paused for a second to lick his dry lips. "And part of me still can't believe we are here, but we can't keep continuing like this. I know that we all have some problems with each other and maybe some unresolved tension, but we have to focus. Focus on the real problem. I mean, we are a team. A team that sometimes can't get along and argue about the most idiotic things for hours, but we are a team. We are comrades. We are the winter guards. And we have to stay as one for our queen's sake. We don't know how we are alive, where we are, when we are, what the fuck is going on, or where Visenya is. Let's start from the beginning and leave everything else for later."

Jaime stepped forward. "We'll go back to the reason why I was punched for no apparent reason and Arya's inability to call her cousin a queen, but—" Jaime stopped speaking as the others in the room groaned. After giving everyone a hard glare, he continued. "But let's move on for now. Does anyone have any idea what the fuck is going on? The last thing I remember is that I was dying, but I'm clearly not dead, and this is clearly not Winterfell that we all left behind. How come we are still alive? And what's going on, really?"

A brief silence filled the room as everyone tried to gather their thought.

At that moment, Arthur felt he was proud of Jaime. He probably would have kissed him on the head with gratitude if he was not still pissed at him. Finally, they were about to make some progress. Finally, some of his questions would be answered.

Yet, as his gaze shifted to the ancient door for a brief second, he couldn't help but wonder if Ghost's instics were right about the Starks outside. There was a reason why he gave up his sword and allowed himself to be thrown here, but how much he could trust Starks, he silently wondered, and whether or not it would bite him in the ass.

"We talked among ourselves very shortly before you woke up, the Kingsla—" Tormund finally ended up saying, in voice that was tinged with a mix of uncertainty and concern, cutting through the tension like a blade, but after Arthur's angry look, he quickly corrected himself, "I mean Jaime, and the last thing we all remember is dying and then... and then we found ourselves here. In Winterfell."

"Yes, this indeed looks like Winterfell, and those men were Starks, but... they are not ours, are they? I thought I was dreaming." Jaime exclaimed, panic creeping into his tone. He scratched his head, his mind racing with possibilities.

"We're in Winterfell," Arya confirmed, nodding her head. "But definitely not ours. I've looked around as we were brought here. Everything is so the same yet feels so different. There are some huge differences, like that tower Bran fell from—it's not broken. And the people—the people are different. This is not our Winterfell, and the worst part is... well, this is not our time."

"I've noticed the differences as well, but what do you mean exactly, and why are you so sure?" Arthur asked, tilting his head to the side in thought, his eyes focused on Arya skeptically.

"Well," Arya said, immediately looking away from Arthur, causing him to narrow his gaze on her. "While you idiots were fighting, I heard one of the Starks calling out to the boy. You know, the boy who was playing with Ghost. They called him..." Arya paused a minute to gulp, "they called him Cregan Stark."

A long silence filled the room as everyone was suddenly stunned. Then Jaime started laughing hysterically, clutching his stomach. Arthur made a fist and signaled Jaime to stop, but he kept laughing as both Arya and Arthur glared at him.

"What's so funny, Jaime?" Arya snapped, her eyes flashing with anger.

Jaime wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Do you realize how absurd this all is? We're not just in the wrong place; we're in the wrong century. The Old Wolf of the North, the legendary Cregan Stark? This is a nightmare."

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. "Jaime, this is serious. We need to figure out why we're here and how to get back, if we can. Laughing won't help." Jaime shrugged his shoulders.

"Wait, you don't mean the Cregan Stark, do you?" Tormund asked, scratching his head, "The old wolf of the North. That ancestor of yours that Visenya loved to mention a lot. Like if Cregan was here, if Cregan did that... stuff like thatt...

"Yup, that one. I mean, I think," Arya said, nodding.

"What do you mean, you think? How many Cregan fucking Starks were there?" Tormund asked in worry. His mouth was open in horror, and his stomach was filled with fear. The idea of Stark having more men like Cregan Stark filled him with dread. No matter how much he loved Visenya and some of the Southerners, men like Cregan Stark were dangerous—too dangerous for the free folks.

Years after his death, the tales about the man were told to free folk to scare the young ones.

Years after his death, he was still remembered by those, praying another Stark like him would not come to the world.

Visenya laughed for a whole hour after hearing about what kind of tales Free Folk told about Cregan and told Tormund surely that he was exaggerated by Free Folk. Yet Tormund knew. No matter how much he liked Visenya, Cregan Stark was a bastard in wolf armor.

"Arya, are you sure?" Arthur asked as he nudged Jaime's leg hard with his own, warning him once more to stop. Jaime stopped laughing for a second to glare at him and throw him a dirty look.

"Well," Arya said, glancing upward in thought.

"Did you guys not ask who was the current lord of Winterfell? Or the time we were in? What were you guys doing while I was not awake?" Jaime groaned. "I mean, that is what I would have asked if, you know, Arthur did not punch me out of nowhere for no fucking reason."

"Do you really think we did nothing else as we waited for you to wake up from your beauty sleep?" Arthur asked in anger. "I did ask. The Lord of Winterfell introduced himself as Rickon Stark. And he refused to answer anything else until everyone was awake. And we had other problems to handle by that point."

"What other problems are you talking about?" Jaime asked, frowning. "What could be more important than understanding what the fuck is going on?"

"Oh, is this why you immediately tried to start a fight after waking up here?" Arya asked, amused.

"I did no such thing. And look at who's talking." Jaime said, as his face was filled with yet another sarcastic smile, "The person who keeps calling her cousin, the queen, with the wrong name."

"For the hundred times, it is not," Arya said, taking a step towards Jaime in anger, as Tormund opened his mouth as well to cut in.

"STOP THIS MADNESS RIGHT NOW!" Arthur yelled and then continued in a calm but dangerous tone, with a fiery gaze on his eyes, "The moment we get out of here, we are all going to have a long talk about what to do and not to do in this kind of situation. AGAIN." Everyone gulped as Arthur turned to Arya and asked, "Now, did you really hear the boy being called Cregan Stark, Arya?"

Arya cleared her mouth briefly before replying. "Yes."

A pale sort of silence fell upon everyone as they stopped talking abruptly to think about what that might mean. The only sound was the roaring in their heads, audible to no one but themselves. Yet, their thoughts kept dancing to the rhythms of dumbstruck anxiety they all shared.

The more they stared at each other silently, the more they felt lost in their own thoughts, their expressions ranging from pensive to troubled. And with every passing second, the lull felt like turning into a thunderstorm, about to abruptly rain itself out at any moment.

Breaking the heavy silence, Tormund's hesitant voice finally pierced the quiet like a fragile whisper in the wind, his words trembling with fear and awe. "It can't be him, can he? The Cregan Stark Visenya was talking about. The old wolf of the North every Wildling children was warned about. I mean, we wild folk don't know much of the history of you Southerners, but even the most ignorant savage has heard of the name. Are you telling me that little boy was the old man of the North who nearly defated all the wildlings?"

"Cregan Stark nearly defated the wildlings." Arya asked, frowning. "That… I don't remember reading anything like that."

Jaime rolled his eyes at Arya and turning to Arthur, he gently motioned to Arya with his head, his face screaming, "can you believe this girl?"

Arthur pursed his lips in reply and instead of playing into Jaime's annoying habits of distracting him, he chose to point the main problem to others in the room. "We don't know if he's that Cregan Stark. I'm pretty sure there were more than one Cregans." Arthur said, scratching his short beard in thought, "Cregan Stark was respected, loved and feared in the North. There's no way there was only one Cregan Stark and a thousand Brandons."

"As far as I know, the Starks have only named one person Cregan," Arya said, shrugging again. Jaime and Arthur simultaneously put their hands on their waists, tilted their heads slightly to the right, raised one eyebrow, and stared at Arya silently.

While Tormund scratched his head and thought that everything was so much simpler when Visenya was around, Arya fell into a deep thought for a few seconds and then continued, "Or two, definitely not three. At least not in the last 50–100 years."

Jaime groaned in reply and thought Arya was indeed terrible at her family history.

"Look, I have never been very good at history lessons, ok?" Arya crossed her arms, her expression resolute. "Lya and Robb were always the best ones. And even though I do not know which Cregan Stark we've just met, I'm sure we were in the past. Everything looks and feels so different and there is definitely something... off in the air."

"What are you hiding, Arya?" Arthur asked, tilting his head to the side, "I've known you since you were a baby. What are you not telling me? Why did you start a fight with Tormund out of nowhere? And why are you so calm about all of this? It's as if…" Arthur paused to clasp his hands together on his chest and then continued as he squinted his eyes on Arya, "as if you were expecting something like this could happen and you are trying to distract me so that I would not notice."

Suddenly everyone cast their judgmental eyes on Arya, and another deafening silence filled the dungeon. Arya gulped as the words she was trying not to say or should not say felt like they got caught in the back of her throat like shards of glass. Because admitting what she knew, what she really knew, meant losing all the respect Arthur had for her. She was already in muddy waters with him, she knew. Yet, betraying Bran's trust, could she really do that, she silently wondered.

Biting her lips, Arya met Arthur's eyes, that were filled with curiosity yet fuming and morphing into disapproval with every passing second.

Where is the girl I'm supposed to be, thought Arya to herself.

Where is that hard girl, the surviver, she has become after coming back to Winterfell?

Where is the girl who finally learned to play the game?

In that moment, with fear, Arya realized once again that deep down, she was still the same seven-year-old girl who used to worship Artie, the sworn knight of her sister Lyarra, worshipfully, begging him to train her with swords.

The same girl who would do anything to earn the love and respect of the knight, who was hiding his name but not capable of hiding his talents from the watchful eye.

The same girl who loved shadowing and mimicking the man who protected her favorite sibling Lya from everyone (sometimes even from herself).

The same girl begged not to leave Artie and Lya behind when her father wanted to take her to Kings Landing with Sansa.

Arya thought she had killed that girl while she was in Braavos. Yet, it seems she was still inside of her. And Arthur was looking at her with the same hard eyes when he showed up at the door of the House of Black and White, saying her sister had demanded her return.

The same eyes who warned her that it should be Arya Stark that came back and a girl who called herself 'no one' would not be welcomed in Winterfell.

The same eyes who judged her for all the things she has done to survive.

That girl is supposed to be dead, Arya thought to herself and got stuck at the same thing.

That girl is supposed to be dead.

I did the right thing.

I did the right thing.

I did the right thing.

I did-

"Arya." Arthur said, in a hard one, his hand going to where his sword is supposed to be and frowning after remembering it was not there, "I mean it. You know our deal. Come clean and admit what you did, while I ask nicely."

Arya remembered the deal they made before entering Winterfell.

She remembered Arthur promising never to ask what she did to survive (not that Arya was not sure he did not know because he was Arthur fucking Dayne), but asking in return never to do anything behind Lya and his back again, never to give any reason for Arthur to use his sword against Arya. Never betray them like Sansa.

Arya also remembered what Bran had said and what he had promised.

Who to choose, Arya thought to herself.

Who should I choose?

Who should I choose?

Her heart pounded and her breaths were muffled by all the weights in her chest as she met Arthur's eyes once again, thinking maybe she should come clean. Bran was not there. And in doubt, like Lya said, one should always choose siding with Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Even though it might be dangerous for oneself to do so. However, she was scared of how they would react.

A half truth was better than a complete lie, Sandor has told her once. With grimace, she decided to go with that.

"Bran," Arya began, her voice barely above a murmur. "Bran said this might happen. There were risks with the ritual. Since Visenya was... sick and the magic around the Winterfell felt weird?"

Her admission hung in the air, a fragile bridge spanning the gap between them. And then, slowly but surely, others began to speak at the same time, asking what it meant. Arthur raised his hand and stopped them. Another moment of silence filled the room as everyone frowned.

"So what?" Arthur asked, trying to stay calm, "We really went... back in time? And you guys knew this might happen?"

"Not this exactly, but there was always a risk of something going wrong. As you know, Lya was already sick due to the poison Sansa and the Little Finger have both sent. The magic in her blood was dying. She was slowly dying. And the magic in the world, Bran has claimed, was also affected. The Gods were pissed Lya was attacked that way. There were strong storms, winds, and snow that came out of nowhere."

"Yes, yes, we know all of that." Jaime said, waving his hand carelessly and signaling for Arya to cut the crap. They all knew this stuff already. "That's why we needed to perform a powerful ritual to save her life and protect Visenya, you and Bran have claimed. We performed it, got the Old God's blessing, and then suddenly Visenya was better. Healtier. What's the connection between the ritual we did and our ending up here, Arya?"

"I can only guess that the magic involved went far beyond what we understood. But believe me when I tell you that neither I nor Bran planned nor caused this. We did not plan to end up here. Whenever this place is. There were always risks. Magic is a risky business. Obviously something went wrong with the ritual since everyone who used their blood for the ritual, besides Bran and Lya, of course, is here, but-"

"What do you mean when you say-" Tormund tried to say but he was cut off by Jaime's sudden laughter.

As Arya and Arthur both gave disapproving looks at his outburst, while Tormund throw him a very dirty look for laughing, Jaime laughed for a whole minute. And then he only stopped when his laughter turned into a pained grimace as he clutched his chest with his hand once more.

"What?!" Jaime groaned, his tone defensive, "I told you all it was a ridiculous plan and it was sure to bite us in the ass. And look at that. It bit us in the ass. We're not in the right time and place, and most importantly, VISENYA IS NOT WITH US. And Bran and Arya fucking lied to us."

Jaime at that moment, wished he had something to throw against Arya's head other than straws and hays. His fists were shaking in anger as he pointed to Arya with his fingers, looking at Arthur, whom was shaking his head with disapproval, clearly holding back his own anger and judging Jaime for not holding back his. "These fuckers. I knew it. I fucking knew it. Bran could not be trusted. I fucking told you, did I not, Arthur? I fucking told you."

Arya flared up but as she opened her mouth to retaliate, she was silenced with a single look from Arthur. Meanwhile, Tormund let out a low, dangerous growl for finding out he had been lied to.

Jaime, this time, started clapping sarcastically, turning towards everyone one by one. "Great job. Well done. What amazing messed-up crap you guys have just pulled! I fucking knew it. I should have fessed up to Visenya the whole thing right from the start, like I originally planned."

"And I told you we shouldn't have lied to Visenya, but I'm never being listened to in this kind of thing," Tormund muttered as he leaned closer to Arya, keeping his blue eyes on hers with a fake smile on his face. Arya took a step back after seeing the dangerous look Tormund gave her.

"Jaime-" Arthur started to interject, but Jaime continued his rant as if he hadn't heard him.

"But you guys insisted that we should make offerings to the Old Gods, that it was the only way to protect Visenya," Jaime continued, his frustration evident. "Kept insisting you had a plan."

"A plan? What plan?" Tormund suddenly demanded, stepping towards Arya, his arms crossed, "Why was I not informed of this plan?"

"Our Plan B, you idiot." Arya said, rolling her eyes. "'Our little ritual. Bran. Us. Our wows. The Weirwood Tree. Remember?"

"Oh. I only remember young Brandon asking me if I was willing to sacrifice my life for Visenya, and then taking my blood and splashing it on the tree. As an offering to the Old Gods. I didn't listen to the rest," Tormund said with a shrug.

Arya brought her hand to her face in anger and slapped it, thinking she was really, really running out of patience.

"I'm also angry that Bran and Arya kept the risks from us, but you willingly gave your blood for the ritual, Jaime." Arthur spoke in a firm but calm voice, clearly trying to calm Jaime down to prevent tensions from escalating, but it didn't do any good because Jaime Lannister was looking for any reason to grumble like always.

"After I've told you what a bad plan this is, over and over again," Jaime continued, grunting and waving his hands threateningly towards the others in the room.

"Yeah, we remember. Unfortunately," Arya said, rolling her eyes. But when her eyes met Jaime's, who was trying hard not to leap at Arya in anger, she quickly averted her gaze and took another small step towards the door, only to freeze where she stood due to feeling the same piercing pain in her back.

As she bit her lip once again to not let out a moan, this time she met Tormund's predatory gaze. Gulping, she opened her mouth to speak out, but Tormund's watchful gaze got focused on her back for a second, and then he quickly took a step back as he nodded in understanding, folding his hands behind his back. Arya nodded back with gratitude. Both turned towards Arthur and Jaime, who was still arguing.

"Jaime, I'm warning you. Stop pushing my buttons. You are already inso much trouble."

"This is your fault." Jaime said, starting to jab his finger into Arthur's chest with accusation as his voice was was edged with bitterness, "The old gods, or any gods for that matter, cannot be trusted. Bran proved himself not to be trusted. Yet you insisted on this ritual, pledging our lives and blood to protect Visenya. A last restort you have claimed. We'll die as the honorable kingguards you have claimed. It'll make sure Visenyais protected, as you have claimed."

Arthur winced at the force of Jaime's words and the stinging sensation that came with each poke, feeling the weight of his own decisions bearing down on him. "We had to try, Jaime," he countered, his tone strained as he lightly pushed Jaime, "Visenya's safety was paramount, and we were willing to do whatever it took to ensure it. For that, we had to do the ritual. We had to give an offering to Gods. That was the only way to protect Visenya after both Sansa and Daenerys's betrayals. And after the ritual, she seemed better somehow. I HAD. TO. PROTECT HER. I'LL ALWAYS PROTECT HER."

"What an awesome protector you are, my old friend. Then tell me, did this ritual of yours really work as it should? Do we, or Visenya, really have the protection of the gods? And where is Visenya, anyway?" Jaime asked, stretching his arms for a second, "Let me point out, once again, how fucked we are right now. Do you see her? No." Jaime began counting as he closed his fingers on his good hand one by one as he spoke, "'Did your ritual work as it should? NO. Maybe we are the only ones that were brought back, and Visenya's fate was messed up due to the ritual we did."

"We dont know that!" Arya cut in, panicking.

"Are you kidding me?" Jaime asked, turning to her, "Weren't our deaths originally supposed to be an offering, a last resort to protect Visenya in the event she lost all of her guards and protectors? To fucking protect her. Yet, we are here, aren't we? As Alive. Back to life." Jaime pounded his own chest for a second to emphasize the fact and caused everyone to flince where they stood because they still had trouble believing they were indeed still alive.

"Back to life, I tell you, because I dont know you guys but I'm pretty sure I fucking died but now I only have the wounds I've already had just before dying. And look, Visenya is not here, is she? So even though your ritual did something, it was not what we intended. I'm supposed to be dead. And she's supposed to be here, damn it. What the hell went wrong?"

"We are all supposed to be dead, stupid," said Arya, tapping her foot angrily on the floor. She then paused, glancing quickly over herself and then around the room. "Or we were just about to die, and then... and then we found ourselves here. So clearly, the ritual did work somehow. We just need to figure out what went wrong, why, and whether we can fix it or not."

"The old gods. This must be the work of the old gods," Tormund muttered. "Or other gods. If there is more than one God, I mean, we are still here, so..."' he said, scratching his head. Arya turned towards him, narrowed her eyes, and opened her mouth, but Jaime interrupted in a worried tone, "Why would they send us here? And where is Visenya?" Jaime then turned to Arthur, raising his eyebrow. "And why are you so calm about it? I've thought you'd have freaked out by now."

"Arthur had a staring contest with Ghost and I've asked him as well." Arya said, rolling her eyes, "Lya is apparently safe, and Rhaegal is with her."

"Oh, thanks for telling me! I've been dying of worry here! Where the hell is she, then? How sure are you that Rhaegal is indeed with her?"

"We don't know where they are, Jaime," Arthur said, "but it's possible they haven't shown up yet. Since everyone whose blood was used is here-"

"As far as we know," Tormund said, cutting in, throwing a shady look at Arya.

"As far as we know, then Visenya and Rhaegal will definitely show up at some point as well. There's no way the ritual or the gods just sent us here by accident. There would be no porpuse. Also, Ghost agrees with me. Their bond is apparently still there. And before you start, Jaime, no, I don't know the details since you know Ghost can't actually talk to me and I can't warg."

Jaime turned towards Arya but she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't think Ghost will handle it well if I try to warg into him, not that it could work. It's been a while since... you know, but I'm pretty sure there is a reason why Ghost is so chill and not freaking out. She was always able to sense if and when my sister was in danger. Usually before even the danger appears."

"One of these days you two will just have to explain to me, truly, how the fuck you can understand that direwolf so well." Jaime grumbled. These were the moments he missed his old, simple life.

"Practice," Arya and Arthur said at the same time.

Tormund nodded. "You get used to it after a while. Ghost's moods and brooding are exactly the same as Visenya's, but at least she's mature. Rhaegal is the one who scares me. She's way too protective, glares at everyone besides Ghost and Arthur, and acts like a jealous lover. I don't get her bond with Visenya."

Jaime shaked his head in disbelief. "Fine. For now, we'll go with the idea she's has not shown up yet or ended up somewhere else. Did you guys wake up at the same time or one by one?"

"One by one." Tormund said. "We've woke up in the order we have have been killed, I think. ghost was already there when I woke up. "

"Did you see what happened to Visenya, Jaime?"

"Well, here is the thing... This is not the kind of conversation we should be having here. We are in the enemy camp. Let's talk about this later. How about that?"

"We are not in the enemy camp!" whined Arya.

"Jaime, I already know you did not keep your promise to me and Visenya probably died on the back of her dragon because Arya has already admitted that when she woke up. " Arhur admitted. This was, after all, the reason why he punched Jaime. "I'm not stupid. Your inability to follow orders well—this is not the place to talk about it but I want to know. Since you've woken up the last, did you see Visenya's death? And how close was Visenya to her dragon when that happened? Do you think they'll end up at the same place at the same time? What were her injuries? I need to know."

"Wait, was this the reason why you punched me?" Jaime panicked. "Arthur, you do not even know what the fuck happened."

"I can guess. You failed your duty. Your promise to me. Now answer my question."

"Arthur-"

"Answer. My. Question." Arthur slowly repeated.

"Well," Jaime took a second to ponder his answer, "pretty close but not at the same time."

"What do you mean, how the hell she die?" Arya asked.

"Eh. Before that, before you punch me again, I want you to know, Arthur, that I've tried to stop her, but Arya totally distracted me, and you know, you know, how stubborn Visenya can be. I was really close to changing her mind, really close, but-"

"You were not close at all," Arya said, stomping her feet on the ground, "And I won't be shamed for taking my sister's side against you!"

"Arya'' Arthur hissed, turning to Arya, "I told you to stop siding with Visenya in the most idiotic things."

"And I explained to you that," Arya said, crossing her arms, "I will always side with my sister, no matter what. That's the reason why I'm always her favorite."

"That's debatable," Jaime said, rolling his eyes, and then continued with a teasing smile to rile up Arya in an attempt to get Arthur off his back. "Her favorite is clearly Arthur, whom she sees as her father because your dear father, Ned Stark, was doing such a shitty job. No wonder he fucking got himself killed in a few months after trying to play the game."

Arya made a move towards Jaime in anger to attack him, but Tormund stopped her by catching her by the arm. She immediately turned to glare at Tormund. "Unhand me, you demon."

"You are the only real demon in this room." Tormund said, "That's the reason none of us trust you because you are clearly hiding things from us. Again." Tormund turned towards Jaime and Arthur, still holding Arya, who was struggling to get her arm out of Tormund's hard grip.

"If you guys can get a break from whatever issues you have with each other and stop arguing back and forth like an old married couple who keeps blaming each other for losing their child," Tormund said, gritting his teeth, "We are still in the enemy camp. You guys said we had to focus like a minute ago. So for fucks sake, focus, and let's find out what else this little demon is hiding from us."

"How can you talk when you are the reason we were thrown here?" Jaime asked, shocked.

"Hey, that was the plan." Tormund said, shrugging. "This always works out for me and Visenya. This is how we ended up as friends. This is how she makes friends."

"I regret letting you hang up around Visenya, Tormund. We'll go back to whatever Ara is clearly hiding in a moment, but Jaime, I've asked you a question."

"Well, after you've died, I was trying to talk Visanya into going somewhere safe, and I was making a good point, but something in the air started to feel off Arthur. It was as if magic was in the air, and then it just died. And suddenly, Night King on the back of Viserion just showed up."

"Viserion?" Arthur asked, shocked.

"That fake Aegon's dragon? What in the hell? What the hell happened after I've died?" Tormund asked.

"We've thought Viserion was dead and buried with Euron Greyjoy after that shit he pulled with the dragon horn, but color us surprised when Viserion came back. As a fucking dead dragon. Appearantly, the Night King not only brought down the wall with the Joramund Horn, but he also brought back our lovely dead dragon. Visenya was really upset about that." Arya said.

"Which is why I've tried to hard to change her mind on getting on Rhaegal's back, but Visenya refused to leave Winterfell after that." Jaime continued explaining. "She was so sure she'd be able to warg into Viserion somehow. She was sure Viserion was still somewhere inside. She was sure the only way we would be able to survive was if she tried. She's said it was her destiny, but she seemed so out of it. It was as if she just gave up. She already knew she'd die. I think she wanted to take the Night King with her. I've tried to tell her we should just leave. I've tried to tell her she needs more rest. I did try to change her mind. I did, but you've raised her, Arthur. You know her better than me."

Arthur took a step towards Jaime, which caused him to take a step back, raising both of his hands. "She would have listened to me and I still feel you let me down, Jaime, You did not keep your promise, but..." Arthur muttered with pain in his eyes and then suddenly closed them.

When he opened them, he seemed calmer on the surface, but Jaime knew Arthur. There were probably storms happening inside of him.

"I did raise to be this way, didn't I? I should have taught her to be more selfish. I should have protected her more. I should have taken her away from Winterfell ages ago. This… this on me, probably."

"This is not on you or any of us!" Tormund declared. "The cards were already against us from the start. We did our best; we have failed, but now we have another chance. Stop moping like your daughter is dead. Visenya will come back."

"But at what cost? And where? Why alone? Always alone. She always acts like she's so alone." Arthur asked. "This is not what I'd have chosen for her. Is this my punishment for failing so terribly?"

"Arthur. I know that you blame me but I did try." Jaime said, trying to soften his voice. "Truly and I think... I think you know Visenya was not same after coming from Dragonstone. Things kept happening. Most of the realm refused to come back to Winterfell in fear of Daenerys, Kings Landing's burning, Sansa leaving with the Littlefinger and refusing to come back from Vale and then sent a letter to poisen Visenya, poisoning her not only physically but mentally as well and weakening her bond to magic, Then came the cold, the hunger, the people. Visenya was already tired. Then, after seeing Ghost and you die right in front of your eyes, with Viserion showing up, it took a toll on her, I think. She did not get back on her dragon to fight back. Not truly. She… I think she just wanted it to end."

"How did it happen?" Arthur asked in a whisper, his voice quaking somewhere between fear and sheer pain.

Jaime hesitated. Some questions, he knew, should be answered truthfully and without hesitation. Others said he didn't want to cause Arthur any more pain but there was no going back now.

"One moment she was on the back of her dragon," Jaime said, softening his voice. "Then the Night King threw his spear and caused Visanya to fall. Rhaegal was following close behind but... I don't think she'd have survived that fall, Arthur."

Arthur closed his eyes in pain as Jaime continued. "The good news is, before her fall, I didn't think her injuries seemed all that bad. I think she will end up somewhere else. Maybe Gods has sent her somewhere safer. A place they would be able to help her."

"The ritual was supposed to not only protect Visenya but also repair her weakened bond to magic. Since the ritual did not do what it was intended to do, maybe she needs to show up at a place where magic or the Gods are strong."

"Unless Bran lied." Tormund muttered, and Jaime and Arthur all groaned at the same time in reply.

Arya looked angrily at Tormund, then at Jaime and Arthur. Tormund cleared his throat, ignoring Arya's murderous stare and pointed to Arya, "Is it just me or she's just too fucking calm? This one is definitely hiding more things, I tell you."

Jaime pointed his head to the side in reply as Arthur narrowed his eyes in suspicion, saying, "It's not just you. Arya?"

"Why do you always think I know what's going on on this kind of situations?" Arya asked angrily.

"Because," Arthur said, putting his hands on his waist, "You either cause them or participate in them. Now fess up if you do not want to be kicked from the next pack meeting."

"We cant have pack meetings. Lya is not here."

"It's Visenya." Jaime said, wagging his finger menacingly, "Like we agreed on. And start talking. Now"

Tormund clasped his hands together, overjoyed, as both Jaime and Arthur squinted their eyes at Arya.

"I'm not hiding anything," Arya claimed stubbornly, raising her head in defiance.

"Then why are you so panicked?" Arthur asked. When Arya opened her mouth to claim otherwise, Arthur snorted. "No matter what happened in Bravos and no matter what you believe in, you are still the same girl to me, Arya. And you are a terrible liar. At least to me. Now fess up. How bad can it be? We are stuck in the past. Yet, this day does not make my top five worst days of my life. Fess up before I catch you on a life or a half truth."

Arya paused for a second to gulp, and she averted her eyes from Arthur. This damn bastard, she has thought to herself. She always became such a bad liar when Arthur and Visenya were around. Why the fuck of all people, it had to be him that came from the future?

"We really did not plan to end up here," Arya finally admitted. Her muscles were tensed up as they prepared to take quick action.

We did the right thing, and she kept murmuring to herself.

I did the right thing.

My sister is safe; this is what matters.

I just need to give them the half truth and create another distraction so that-

"What do you mean you did not plan to end up here?" Arthur suddenly asked, frowning.

Arya paused for a second to gulp, and she averted her eyes from Arthur. This damn bastard, she has thought to herself. She always became such a bad liar when Arthur and Visenya were around. Why the fuck of all people it have to be him?

" I mean, figure of speech. Why would I want to plan something like-" Arya tried to say, wetting her lips.

"Oh, you did not plan to end up here for sure since you were shocked and panicked when you woke up as we were, Arya." Tormund cut in, taking a quick step towards her. "However, you immediately asked where the fuck was, Visenya and Bran. You were so sure they would be around. And that was before Arthur had that weird staring contest with Ghost. You-" Tormund paused for a second to lower his head menacingly towards her. "You were shocked by me, and others were around. You flinched when you saw Arthur, especially."

"She flinched? When?" Arthur asked, tilting his head to the side, feeling offended.

"Oh, you were having a talk with Ghost, so it's no wonder you did not notice Arthur," Tormund answered. Then he grinned menacingly. "However, I did notice."

"Just what the fuck happened when I was still... asleep? What is the is the staring contest? Is Visenya really safe? What the fuck?" Jaime tried to ask, but the others ignored him.

"How can I not flinch? You guys were dead. I was also dead." Arya said, finally defending herself.

"Why were you so sure Visenya would be around, then?" Arthur asked.

"Because you guys are here. I mean-"

"Cut the crap, wolf." Jaime asked angrily. "Where are you planning to end up, and why the fuck have you told us nothing?"

"NOT HERE!"

"That definitely means you were planning something, so fess the fuck up right now before I chain you to one of these chains that are swinging from above." Jaime said, after harsly grabbing Arya's arm.

"JAIME!" Arthur yelled, getting in between Arya and Jaime as he quickly pushed him backwards.

When Jaime took another dangerous step towards her, Arthur pointed his finger towards him. "Control yourself."

"She's hiding something, Arthur," Jaime coldly exclaimed through gritted teeth, his palms clenched tightly. He was ready to push Arthur to jump on Arya. He was sure Tormund would take his side.

"I KNOW!" Arthur yelled and continued sofly, "I know."

After taking a few breaths in and out to calm himself, Arthur turned towards Arya, who was busy rubbing her arm in pain. It would definitely bruise terribly, but right now Arthur felt like he had no sympathy for the girl.

"I'm going to count to three. If you do not admit what you did with Bran, Arya, I'm not responsible for what is going to happen next."

"You cant do anything to me. I'm a star. I am Lya's favorite."

"And my loyalty is to Visenya, not to Starks. And if I had to choose, I'd choose her above anybody else, I've told you before. Now, what the fuck you have done with my daughter and how can we fix it?"

"Oh boy," Tormund whispered to Jaime. "Daddy Arthur is here. She fucked up. Big time."

Jaime nodded.

"ONE." Arthur started to count with his finger.

"TWO," he said after a few seconds.

"Thr-"

"I did not mean this to happen, but the important thing is..." Arya paused to gulp. "The important thing is we are all here, and I'm sure Visenya is going to show up at any moment."

"Stop trying to buy some time. This is my last warning, Arya Stark."

"Oh shit, there goes the full name," Tormund whispered to Jaime this time. Arthor chose to completely ignore them and kept his focus fully on Arya.

"I'm pretty sure the ritual worked…. Somehow." Arya finally elaborated, sweetening and not meeting Arthur's eyes, "Because, well, we are in the past. As we should... I mean-" Arya paused to bite her lower lip with her teeth, and after pausing for a few seconds and pulling herself back a few steps away from Arthur and Jaime, she continued, "-like I've said, Bran has mentioned that something like this might happen."

"You did say that, but what do you mean, really? Bran did say with every ritual there were always risks, but... what do you mean by 'as we should have', Arya?" Arthur asked, trying to stay calm. "What else are you not telling us?"

" . fuckers!" Jaime groaned after catching what was going on and angrily taking a step towards Arya. "Did you fuckers actually plan this? This was not some kind of risk, was it? This was always what the ritual was intended to do. Sent us back in time. You two Starks, bloody Starks, planned this behind our backs!"

Arthur was frozen in place, dumbfounded, as Jaime took another step towards Arya as she took a few steps back in worry.

"'Hey, hey, hey," Tormund said, stepping between them and trying to calm them down. "I fucking can't believe I'm the one saying this, but calm down. We don't even know if we're in enemy territory, and we don't even know where the fuck Visenya is. This is no time to snap at each other. No matter how enjoyable it can be."

"No, of course not," Arya began, coming up behind Tormund. "The plan was to send Visenya, or rather Visenya's mind, into the past with Bran to make sure she would stay on the right path. To when my father was alive. To start all over again."

"Ned Stark?" Jaime groaned, trying to step towards Arya again, but Tormund pushed him gently back towards Arthur. Jaime grimaced again in pain. Arhur let out a deep sigh and took his head in both hands, hitting it a few times before turning and punching the wall. Tormund took a deep breath and wondered what sin he had committed to be stuck in a dungeon and in the past with these madmen, and whether the Old Gods hated him.

"'Ned Stark? Do you hear that, Arthur?" Jaime said, turning to Arthur with a wry smile. "I wonder what Ned Stark can do that we can't," Jaime continued, and he began pacing nervously back and forth across the room.

Arthur sighed again and turned back towards the room, wishing once more that Barristan Selmy had not died in Harrenhall and that he was with them.

Arya continued as if she hadn't heard him: "Bran said that we needed this ritual and your blood and life as an offering to give power to the Old Gods. But of course, I had no idea that we were going with him and that we would find ourselves in Cregan Stark's time. And I have no idea why he and Visenya are not here, before you ask. Again."

"Do you realize what a terrible and dangerous plan this is?" Arthur said it in a tired tone and then raised his finger to stop others from talking. As he leaned against the wall, he closed his eyes for a second and tried to calm down and get his mind clearer.

Yes, he was still hurt and bleeding.

Yes, he was still hungry.

Yes, he had no idea what the fuck was going on or where Visenya was, and all they have been doing so far is just snapping each other, but this is not the time to freak out. This was not the first time he felt like he fucked up, after all. This was not the first time he let down Rhaegar or Visenya. No, this was not the worst day of his life.

When Daenerys tried to burn Visenya and Aegon with Barriston and all the other lords and knights who tried to save them in anger at Harrenhall due to everyone in the realm questioning her rule and sanity, that had been the worst day of his life. When the flames quieted and they all saw Visenya was alive and the rest was dead, Daenerys had taken a shocked Visenya to Dragonstone by force on the back of Drogon. Since he and a lot of other lords had been hurt by flames and Dragonstone was so far away, he had not known whether Visenya was alive or not for days.

Days passed in agony and uncertainty. Terrible days. Worst days of his life.

Then, Visenya had come back to the back of Rhaegal with tears in her eyes and her head still held high, refusing to talk about what happened on that terrible island that she obviously left a part of her soul behind. Arthur himself never found the strength to ask what happened, yet he knew somehow. Visenya claimed she still had her maiden intact, yet Arthur knew something terrible did happen in Dragonstone. The way Ghost and Rhaegal growled when men besides Arthur, Tormund, Jaime, and Bran came closer to Visenya, or the way she flinched every time she was asked by lords when she would marry, was not normal after all. And when Sansa also betrayed them, Visenya acted like she was so used to being betrayed. She acted like it was her destiny.

Arthur felt like it was all his fault. For not protecting Visenya. For not keeping his promise to her parents. For listening to Ned Stark, letting her live most of her life as a bastard, and not telling her the truth sooner.

Sometimes he has found himself wondering what would have happened if he had just taken her to some other place where they would be free of her destiny. If he was free to raise her as his daughter, like he had always wanted. If he was not stuck between being a Kingsguards and being a father. If Rhaegar was watching, Lyanna as well, what were they thinking about him?

"Arthur?" Jaime asked worriedly, touching his arm slightly.

Yet, this was a second chance.

A second chance, he had gotten.

Visenya was alive.

Visenya was alive.

She had to be alive.

Ghost surely would have known if she wasn't.

Arthur surely would have known.

This was not the time to mourn or freak out.

He was Arthur Dayne. The Sword of the Morning.

"Arthur?" asked Jaime, shaking him gently. "Are you with us?" Jaime paused for a second when his hand was blooded. "Wait, are you fucking bleeding? Why the fuck did you not say you were hurt? Oh, this explains why your head is not in the game. Arya, call someone quick."

Arthur opened his eyes and pushed Jaime's hand back to look at his wounds.

"Arya will do no such thing. I'm fine. This is not the worst I've had. I'll live."

"Arthur-"

"Like I've said, I'm fine. Now," Arthur said, after leaning against the wall again and clasping his hands together, "where were we? Ah, we were just talking about what a terrible plan this was. Arya, please explain to me what this crap you tried to pull without informing me was supposed to solve? Daenerys, Harrenhall, Sansa, Robert Baretheon, the war of the five kings, and all the others—how were you planning to change all this? How could you put this responsibility on Visenya's and Bran's shoulders? I've got all the respect for your father, but let's be honest, he and your mother are the reason we are in this situation. If they actually listened to me, none of this would have happened. My biggest regret is letting Ned talk me into taking Visenya to Winterfell, Did you know? If I had another chance, I'd have never-"

"Precisely the reason you were not supposed to come back or have your memories!" Arya finally admitted, her eyes filling with tears. "You were not doing a good job protecting her, and you would have been taken away from us. Like we were the problem. We are not the problem. She has always been safe in Winterfell!"

The tears fell down Arya's cheeks, making her face as red as the day she was born. She brought her sleeve to her eyes, trying to hide the obvious fact that she was crying.

As Arthur tried really hard not to subconsciously wipe her tears away, Arya looked up at him, waiting to be greeted by the rage she knew she deserved. However, at that moment, the only thing Arthur could really feel was disappointment.

Disappointment caused by the fact that that there was somebody who thought he was not protecting Visenya properly. That has never happened before.

Even Ned Stark always trusted Arthur with Visenya and Jaime, and Barristan did not blame him for keeping the truth for them for so long. Yet, Arya Stark stood before him, talking about a plan to "protect Visenya", a plan that did not involve him.

Arya, who, in that moment, looked so much like Lyanna.

Once again, Arthur was lost in his own dark, depressing thoughts.

Did he kid himself into thinking this was what Lyanna would have wanted when he took Visenya to Winterfell? He suddenly found himself wondering.

Where did I go wrong with these people?

Was I wrong for trying?

Was Jaime right about me turning soft?

Was what happened to Visenya my fault?

"She was never safe in Winterfell; are you fucking kidding me?" Jaime asked, his hands going to his hair, ready to rip them apart in frustration.

Arthur blinked at Jaime's sudden outburst. The words hung in the cold, damp air of the dungeon, echoing off the rough-hewn stone walls. And deep down, Arthur knew Jaime was right. And the chance he wasn't, it was too late to feel so at odds with himself.

"Why thank you, Arya?" Arthur finally said with an amused smile on his face. "We'll have so many long, long talks about your telling me how to do my fucking job. This kind of crap is the reason why you can't be a member of the Queensguard. At least Jaime listens to me, mostly. And doesn't do this kind of crap behind my back."

Arya flinched as more tears she held in finally started to fall. "I was just… We were just trying to protect Lya." She admitted sniffing. "We didn't have a choice. Every move we've made has been to protect Visenya, to keep her safe from those who would use her for their own ends."

Jaime shot her a look of disdain. "And yet here we are, in a dungeon, trapped and vulnerable. Your plans have only brought more danger."

"And yours got killed, Visenya." Arya declared.

""No, Tormund cut in. "Your own sister was the thing that killed Visenya. Not the poison; do not be wrong. But the fact that she would ever try was enough. How can one survive that, I wonder? Where was that Stark honor when needed?"

"That's not fair!" Arya declared in a broken voice, and then the next moment, suddenly, her expression hardened. "You think I didn't know what Sansa did? She is not my sister. She is not a Stark. I wanted to avenge Lya, but she did not allow it. You think I haven't considered every possibility and every risk when me and Bran went with this plan? We do what we must to survive. We, those in the wolf pack, would do anything to protect those we love."

"You are not the only one, little wolf." Arthur said, his gaze softening, "I've been on this road way before you. However, this is the last time you get one on me. You'll have to go a long way to re-earn my trust. A long way."

Arya's lips trembled as she tried to stop her tears.

Arthur felt a pang of guilt at that moment. He had placed so much trust in Arya, in her ruthless efficiency and unwavering determination. But had he been blind to the costs? The lines she had crossed, the lives she had taken—all in the name of protecting Visenya. Should Arthur try more to turn Arya from darkness?

"There is so much stuff I want to yell about, but I do not have the strength," Jaime said in a voice filled with so much resentment. "I just want to ask this. Why were only two people allowed to go back, and how did we get here if that wasn't your plan?"

"Bran said the Old Gods would not accept it. None of you believe in the Old Gods, and I... It's been a long time since I turned from the ways of the Old Gods. If we had known that it was possible for all of us to go back in time, believe me, I would not have chosen to find myself in a time like this, with all of you," Arya said in a tired voice.

"THEN WHY ARE WE HERE?" Jaime rebelled this time, raising his voice.

"I want to hear the answer to that too, Arya," Arthur said, continuing to watch Arya calmly with tired eyes from the wall he was leaning against.

"How would I know? Do I look like I know all the answers from up there? Maybe it wasn't the Old Gods. The only thing I do know is that the ritual was supposed to work. And it worked. And Bran…" Arya paused for a moment to wipe her tears, "I fucking don't understand why the fuck he is not here. Or Visenya. Do you guys even realize what happened? Everyone we ever cared about or loved is gone! They are gone. This was not the time we were supposed to go back to. Why did this happen? What is going to happen to all we have left behind now?"

"I don't care," Arthur said, shrugging. "Ever since I've held the little finger of Visenya, the only thing I care about has always been her. That's the duty of a Kingsguard. That's my duty because I promised it to her parents. To both of them:. And I want her back. That's the only thing I care about. I do not care what happens to the rest of the realm, Arya."

Arya's expression hardened. "How can you be so damn cold?"

"Once, I cared about others too. But caring for others meant Visenya got hurt. So no more. I can think about all the people we have left behind. We'll mourn them, but not today."

"As much as I enjoy watching you Southerners fight," Tormund said, stepping between them again and trying to break the tense atmosphere in the dungeon. Tormund looked everyone else in the dungeon in the eye, one by one, and waved his hands upwards and continued, "Maybe we should focus on what we can do, not how and why this happened."

Everyone else in the dungeon turned to look at Tormund, and for a moment, the dungeon fell silent for a few seconds. "What?" Tormund said, frowning slightly. "I can think rationally sometimes too."

"All right. All right, all right." Jaime said, and after a few paces around the room, he paused and turned back to the dungeons. "Everyone take a deep breath. Tormund is right. We need to focus on Visenya. Visenya should have been here with us in the past. Let's assume she is for now. She's obviously not here since everyone in Winterfell seemed so shocked when we arrived," he asked, and after everyone nodded in the affirmative, he continued, "I don't think there was that much time between my death and Visenya's, so she should be here, actually. Since she wasn't, maybe our theory of her showing up somewhere else might be right. Does anybody have any ideas where she could have gone?"

Everyone started to talk at the same time.

"Why would she show up somewhere else?"

"Maybe the ritual was fucked up for a reason she'll show up where the ritual intended and only we went back?"

"No, she must be somewhere else. Ghost is totally chill, I tell you guys. If she is not here yet, she'll show up soon.!"

"Why would she show up later?"

"Where else could it be? Is our theory about magic spots right?"

"If it is, where else are the are the Old Gods or Other Gods so strong?"

"Stop talking over each other. Please." Arthur said, messaging his brows.

"Arthur, what do you think of where she could be?" Jaime asked.

"I think she has not shown up yet. Ghost seems to think she'll show up, though, so we are safe."

"You need to teach me the wolf talk, old man," Jaime said, putting his arm on Arthur's shoulders. Then he continued. "She can show up here, then. If not here, maybe at the wall? Or at the Blackwoods's Godswood?"

"Harrenhall? Or at the Isle of Faces?" Arthur continued guessing.

"How about Dragonstone?" Arthur and Jaime turned towards Tormund. "I mean, she will have her fucking dragon with her, apparently."

"That," Arthur and Jaime said at the same time, snapping their fingers, "is a good point."

"I hate when you guys do this. When did you get to make peace?" Tormund muttered under his breath.

"We can't make any moves before being certain, Arthur." Jaime exclaimed.

Arthur shook his head. "We also currently do not have a dragon, Jaime, so we need to prepare to leave at any moment. I hope it's not Dragonstone or Dorne. Both would take weeks to get to."

Jaime's fingers were playing with his lower lip as he was in deep thought. "She could even be at Essos. We do not know. We need to find a way to narrow the possibilities if we need to be prepared. If only Bran was here. Where the hell is it when we need him?"

"Are you sure he used his own blood?" Arthur suddenly asked, turning towards Arya.

Arya nodded.

"Maybe he is beyond the wall? Shit. If only we had a way to talk to Gods. Of course, if they exist. And if they are listening, I want to tell them what a terrible job they are doing with all of this. For once, for once, I want to get a break." Jaime kicked the wall in anger and then suddenly grimaced with pain in his leg. Watching him, Arthur looked up, counting silently and inwardly to keep calm, and once again cursed the brave Barriston Selmy for not being there for him and for wasting his life in Harrenhall for a false dragon Varys created.

His shoulders slumped, sadly thinking that none of this would have happened if he, Rhaegar, or any of the other brothers of the Kingsguard who had died at Tower of Joy were still alive, but then he straightened his shoulders again. He remembered the promises he had made to Rhaegar as he left for the Battle of the Trident and to Lyanna as she breathed her last. It was never too late for anything.

Arthur clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. Visenya was not just Rhaegar's daughter or the rightful heir to the throne. Visenya was like a daughter to him, and Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning, had made enough mistakes trying to protect her. If she was alive, if Visenya was here, or if she was about to show up, Arthur silently vowed not to waste this second chance.

Then, slowly, he turned his attention back to the others who were still bickering.

"Look, I don't want to think about it or say it, but Bran might not even have come back with us."

Everyone in the dungeon was suddenly filled with fear, and Jaime, Arthur, and Arya froze in place, staring at Tormund. Tormund averted his eyes, cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his head nervously with his hand.

"Well, are we certain Bran used his blood as well, or did not realize this could have happened? Maybe he knew and chose to make the ultimate sacrifice? I mean, look young, Stark-" Tormund paused, giving Arya a mournful expression. "-doesn't magic come at a price? What if the price was Bran's life?"

Arya fell silent, her heart heavy with a mixture of sorrow and shock.

"Only death can pay the price of life," Arthur said, closing his eyes painfully. "If we were here, the price might have been Bran's life."

"Or hell, what if the price is something else?" Jaime asked, dreading the answer. "Something far worse. I'm not taking Bran's life for granted, but what if this ritual has major ramifications for the Night King and White Walkers as well? I mean, what about the realms' balance?"

"Let the Gods worry about the balance while we focus on Visenya and Bran." Arthur continued after waving his hand with a hint of indifference. "Since the ritual did not achieve the desired result, either Bran modified it, Gods or someone else intervened, or the ritual itself was messed up in some other manner. We know nothing. We cannot make assumptions. We'll make do with what we have and save everything else for later. Now what are you sure of, Arya?"

Arya took a long breath, glanced down, stroked her chin with her hands, paused for a few seconds, nodded, and boldly returned her gaze to Tormund and the others. "I am certain Bran used Lya's blood. I was the one who took it and saw Bran use it firsthand. I saw him use your blood as well, but I didn't see if he used his own or someone else's since I had to leave the room. Sandor... needed me for something."

Arhur nodded, a half-smile on his face. "Oh, yeah. We'll discuss it later."

Arya cleared her throat. Fuck this guy, truly. Why did he come back? She wondered to herself.

"Ehm. Anyways, all I really know is that Bran needed the blood of people who were devoted to Visenya one way or another. He only used the blood of those who would lay down their own lives for Visenya's life and who never betrayed her. That's why he was never able to use Theon's blood, no matter how much he begged. After all, he had betrayed us once, even though Lya forgave him."

Arya paused for a second to let out a huge sigh. What she was going to say next was really going to hurt her pride. "I don't really want to admit this since I really do not like you guys much right now, but we are probably the only people in the realm my sister Lya trusts or should trust. So congrulations!" Arya clapped her hands for a few seconds. "You guys passed the test. You wouldn't be here if you didn't."

"Geez. Thank you, Stark." Jaime threw a mocking look at Arya, who, in return, shrugged her shoulders. "Finally, you admit we care about your cousin, too."

"I would like to remind you, young wolf, that I've known Visenya ever since she was 7. That's way longer than you, if you did not notice. Of course, I've been loyal! I am way more loyal than you. And the only one who is more loyal than me is Arthur and rest of you. Well, we can fight on it if you want."

"Wait a God damn second, it is not my fault." Jaime tried to cut in but Arya was faster than him.

"You can't be more loyal than me. I am a Stark."

"Which means nothing these days after your own sister poisoned Visenya." Tormund declared.

"How dare you call Sansa my sister?"

"Do not, I repeat, do not start yet another fight over this." Arthur said, clenching his fist and waving them in air. "I'm warning you all. I'm about to seriously lose all my patience. All of this will be discussed in a later pack meeting. I'm fed, have gotten my sleep, and do not want to strangle any of you. Now, Arya, are you hiding anything else from me?"

Arya shook her head.

"She better not be." Jaime mumbled softly. Arya threw a very filthy look at him, prompting Jaime to toss back an even worse one.

Arthur gently slumped back against the wall, his hands crossed over his chest. "We need to find Visenya; that much is clear. We can't make any decisions until she gets back, but we can start planning. First, we have to decide if we can trust Starks."

Arya scowled, but before she could respond, Arthur continued. "I can't risk it. You know I can't. We have to test them and their royalty."

"How the hell are you going to test them to see whether we can trust them or not?" Jaime inquired.

"Ghost trusts them; that should be enough for now, but to be sure, I'll conduct my own tests. Also, what makes you think I'm trusting them blindly, Jaime?" Arthur paused for a second to share a fleeting look with Arya, raising his eyebrows. When Arya nodded after hesitating for a moment, Arthur proceeded. "Or why are you so sure there is no on-going testing happening?"

"What do you..." Jaime let out a tired sigh. "I'm so sick of you keeping stuff from me," he complained. "What exactly happened when I was sleeping? I could not have been sleeping that long."

"This is what being a Lord Commander is like, Jaime. I order, and you follow. Do not forget."

Jaime rolled his eyes in reply. "This is why I miss Barriston. He never ordered me around."

Arthur turned his attention from Jaime to the floor and said, "You are not the only one who misses the old man." Jaime immediately regretted mentioning Barristan. It was a topic that neither of them wanted to discuss, especially right now.

"Arthur, I did not mean-"

Arthur cleared his sore throat, straightened his back and lifted his eyes from the floot to meet Jaimes' confidently, even though storms raging inside him. "Anyway, we have to stay calm and think about the best option for now, but we have to prepare ourselves for the worst. There must be a reason why we and Visenya came here—to the past, to this time."

Jaime nodded slightly, relieved at Arthur's speech, and sighed deeply, appearing relaxed to the others in the dungeon for perhaps the first time since he had awoken.

This time Tormund cleared his throat to get other's attention and held his hand up "Well, I can't believe it's up to me to think amongst you lunatics, but there's something I'd like to ask if I may." Tormund lowered his hand and turned to Arya, stroking his beard. "I don't know the history of you Starks very well, but if Cregan was just a little boy, does that mean the dragons are still alive? Because Visenya had this theory about one of her ancestors' dragons laying eggs in Winterfell and-"

Jaime and Arthur locked eyes and swore as they realized for the first time where they were. "SHIT."

Arthur suddenly stood up from the wall he was leaning against, while Jaime started a quick pace, silently muttering to himself under his breath. Meanwhile, Arya frowned, trying to recall what had occurred while Cregan Stark was alive. After a few seconds, she comprehended why Jaime and Arthur were both in such distress.

"The dance of the dragons must not have started yet since Cregan was an adult when it happened." Arya said, her eyes shining. "I believe there was only one Cregan Stark, so the little guy must be our legandary ancestor. I can't wait to shake his hand."

"Shake his hand? I cannot wait to leave Winterfell. Do you know how many wildlings he killed?" Tormund inquired, concerned. "What if he poisoned my food?"

"You should have thought about it before telling everyone you were a wildling." Jaime stared at him in disbelief. "Honestly, how did you survive so long?"

"Focus, people!" Arthur yelled as he stomped his foot on the ground. "Are you aware of what this actually means? If we are correct, yes, the dragons are still alive, but Dorne has not yet joined the Seven Kingdoms."

Jaime restarted his pacing. "Shit. Shit. Shit. And King Viserys is on the throne, which is a major issue for us since that guy was such a weak ruler. There's also Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, and Rhaneyra, the Maegor with tits to consider. We are screwed. Really screwed up right now." Jaime, in anger, stopped his pacing and went towards the wall.

In a quick move, Tormund pulled Jaime's arm away to stop him from pounding the wall in rage. "Will you stop hurting yourselves, please?" Then he instantly began scratching his head in perplexity. "I have no idea what the heck you are all talking about. The dance of the dragons? Dorne? Where in the hell did we end up? Is this good or bad?"

Arya opened her mouth to explain the situation to Tormund, but then decided it would be too long and Tormund probably wouldn't understand, so she gave up. Instead, she turned to the two queenguards, who were panicking now that they finally understood what time they were in and the possible consequences of it. "We'll figure out the political situation in the realm later," Arya remarked, indicating a cross in the air. "The only thing that matters right now... finding Visenya. If I had a choice, I would not have selected you fools as companions for this… mission, but we are all here for a reason."

"Yes, that stupid vow we made," Jaime muttered, pursing his lips.

"I am not going to apologize for what I did, or should we say tried to do. However, none of us here are blameless. We all have issues with one another. We may continue to fight among ourselves, or we can set it aside for the time being and band together for a common purpose. Lyarra, Visenya, whatever you want for her. For our queen. Now, tell me."

Arya knelt and retrieved the Valyrian Steel Dagger her sister had given her from its hiding place in her boot.

Tormund opened his jaw in astonishment and burst out laughing. "Was that always there, young Wolf?" he inquired, lifting one of his eyebrows. "Now I know why they call you young, Visenya."

Arya winked at him before turning back to the others and silently watching over them for a few seconds. Then, pointing the blade in her hand at everyone in the room, she calmly posed the question she had intended to ask from the start. "Are you ready to do what is necessary for our queen? Are you with me?"

Arthur, Jaime, and Tormund all nodded as Arya pointed the dagger their way. Arya smiled as she returned the blade to its hiding place in her boot and turned to face Arthur, gently pointing the door with her head and asking for permission.

Arthur anxiously scratched his little beard in thought for a few seconds before nodding to Arya and letting out a loud sigh.

With Tormund and Jaime's puzzled looks on her, Arya marched boldly to the ancient door and hammered on it.

"Haven't you listened and watched enough, Rickon Stark, father of Cregan Stark?" She then turned to the others and whispered softly, "I'm almost certain he is the father of Cregan Stark, whom we all adore. Almost. I can't be certain. There were way too many Rickons, to be completely honest."

Jaime rolled his eyes and turned to Arthur with a frown. Arthur leaned toward him and whinked as he whispered, "Why do you think we ended up here? The Stark men may be good warriors, and we were outnumbered, but I am the Morning Star, Jaime. Use some sense."

"What the hell is going on?" Tormund asked as Jaime narrowed his eyes on Arthur.

As Arthur shrugged, the dungeon's ancient door suddenly opened, and Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, entered the room holding his sword Ice, followed closly by his son Cregan Stark, who had a pinched look at this face. After putting the hilt of his sword perpendicular to the floor, ready to draw at any moment, Rickon turned towards Arya, his shoulders upright and his stance imposing. "'How did you know I was watching and listening to you?" he asked with a strong and authoritative voice echoing off the walls.

"Ah, allow me to introduce myself, my lord," Arya said, bowing slightly and giving a half bow. "'I am Arya Stark. I am of your blood. Or will be, if we can't change what happens in the future."

"That's... a pretty big claim, Arya Stark?" said Rickon, slamming Ice down hard and frowning.

"You are absolutely right, my lord." Arya declared, peering behind Rickon to see if Ghost was around. "If you don't mind, might we continue our talk in the small hall? After our wounds have been looked over by the kind Maester of Winterfell, of course,. With Cregan and the rest of the Starks, if possible," Arya smiled, shifting her glance to the said child, who was still brooding.

Cregan glanced towards Arya as he felt a heavy stare on him. After a few seconds of thoughtful observation, he turned to face his father. "I believe that is okay, papa. We must listen to them in order to learn more about what they know. To make certain that they are loyal. For Visenya." Cregans halted for a second to direct his sight to Tormund. "Even though they have a wildling with them,"

Arya turned towards Tormund, who was flinching. "Don't worry, Tormund, I'll protect you," she declared with a wink.

"Exactly, tiny Visenya," Tormund replied, moving closer to Jaime. Whenever Visenya says that, I always end up in the midst of a slaughter. Hardhom, Harrenhal, Winterfell, and so many others."

Jaime rolled his eyes and, after anxiously blowing on a length of hair that had fallen on his head, leaned closer to Arthur, whispering, "I do admire your boldness, my friend, but what I wouldn't give to have Barriston the Bold here right now."

Arthur nodded to Jaime, smiling slightly and thinking the same thing.

Rickon Stark observed Arya and the others for a few seconds, tilting his head to the side. Then he pursed his lips and addressed the Maester of Winterfell, who was waiting for them just outside.

"Prepare some bread and salt, Maester Kennet, so that we can offer guests right to our... friends here. After, their wounds need to be treated."

"Yes, my lord." Maester Kennet bowed his head with respect and immediately left for his study.

"Once your wounds are treated, just like others, I would want to hear your story. At length."

"Others?" Jaime asked, frowning, but Rickon completely ignored him.

"My son also had an interesting story to tell." Rickon said, softly smiling. "It seems we need to compare things we know. So that you can pass our tests and we can pass your tests."

After clasping his hands behind his back, Cregan swayed slightly in place. "I saw a dream. It was an interesting dream. Some sort of green dream, you might call it. I feel like I know all of you

"Oh," Arthur said, "well, this makes things easier. And Visenya?"

"I will show up eventually." At that, Arthur exhaled a relieved breath. "You were right about Gods hijacking your ritual. I do not know how or why, but Visenya will be here to change things, and all of you were chosen to help her by Gods for a reason. I hope by the end of our talks we can find some sort of common ground."

"That is all we want," Arthur said after bowing his head slightly. "May I ask how much you have seen?"

"A lot. But probably not enough." Cregan took a second to glance back at this father. "Like my father said, we'll compare notes later. Hopefully with Visenya around."

"First and foremost, we must ensure the safety of our... comrades. As quickly as feasible." Arthur said. "I want to see them. Now."

Rickon motioned to the door and made room for Arthur. "I'm informed they've just woken up and asked for you. We can leave after the good maester offers you the bread and salt."

"Our comrades?" Jaime said, surprised. "Wait, there are others?"

"Did you really think we were the only ones?" Tormund inquired.

"YES!" Jaime yelled. "What else did you guys forget to tell me?"

"Arthur kicked you three times to wake you up." Arya smirked.

"Two times," Arthur corrected, and then immediately empathized on the reason to make sure Jaime would not whine about it later. "To wake you up."

Jaime let out a frustrated scream. "Arghhh". And then he put his hands on his head in anger and turned towards Arya, knowing she would definitely give the right answer, even just to make fun of him.

In reply, Arya winked at him. "'Oh, you are in for a big surprise, lover boy."

"Oh no."' Jaime whined. "Not them. For fucks sake,. Why did Bran use their blood as well? Seriously, why the fuck do these things keep happening to me?"

"Hey, look on the bright side," Tormund said. "It could have been much worse."

"How can it be much worse?" Jaime asked in wonder.

"At least Melisandre is not here." Arthur cut in.

Jaime trembled where he stood.

Well, he thought there was that.