Davos (Future)

"And what happened next, ser?"

With the tips of his front knuckles brushing over the lines of ink in the book, Davos smiled at the young girl as wide eyed and bundled up as the other children, so much so that they each looked quite stout when in reality the children were likely thin as a rail. Davos Seaworth marveled at the childlike capacity for wonder and eagerness even through all of these dwindling days of warmth and sunset. It was a trait he only found among the youngest of children in the last outpost of the living nestled deep in the last land of spring and daylight. It was the most enviable thing about being a child, to not fully understand the depth of dread and despair the world was in, and even being able to not care.

"Let me catch my place, wee one," he chuckled, leaning back and holding up the book "Candles of Harrenhal," a more poetic retelling of the last days of House Hoare against Aegon the Conqueror. "Even I get excited at this part." Very little of the grizzled former smuggler remained in the man that he was now. He didn't even think of himself as the same Ser Davos Seaworth who served as Hand to two Kings. All that remained of that man after the end of the wars for the Iron Throne were the lessons that a little girl he lost had taught to him, lessons he never dared squander away. Gazing out at the dozen or so children huddled around him, he cleared his throat. "Only the Wall of ice to the far reaches of the North outmatched the height and thickness of Harrenhals'. Through reaving and pillaging, no ordinary king or emperor could ever hope to lay siege and outlast Harren the Black."

"Like we are 'ere?" Asked a boy from the Mander in the Reach, if Davos remembered properly. The lad had been evacuated by boat at Brightwater Keep and brought to Bear Island and had never seen a city or keep larger than they.

"Just the like, son." Davos confirmed, nodding to the mountains that surrounded all around the vast valley of the Great Weirwood. "No army can ever hope to get through the pass in numbers so great."

"Right." He wasn't the only one marveled.

Davos' heart plucked with feelings that hurt. Matthos was the only one of his sons he was able to see grow to manhood before Stannis called upon him for the War. His other two bloomed when he was away, and perished just like their older brother. They fought bravely to see Storm's end evacuated, to their last breaths until Davos had to see them and Marya turned to puppets in the Night King's army. That was all he truly hoped for, that if Jon could succeed, then a new life would await his family that they could have to the fullest. Even now, he still hoped, he couldn't allow himself not to for all that he lived through.

"Aegon offered Harren a place as Lord of the Iron Islands on the condition the ruthless King would yield. But the hearts of men as powerful are equally stubborn, so he refused." Davos changed his accent to one more garrulous and bitter. "'What is outside my walls is of no concern to me. Those walls are strong and thick,' Harren boasted to Aegon with all the pride of his castle, his steel, and his line. Aegon pointed to Balerion the Black Dread, saying 'no mountain can touch a dragon in flight. What say you that a castle's walls will do better?' Harren laughed and gestured to his walls. 'Then I shall age to my death as I wait to see the day that stone burns.'"

The children were riveted, and so was the newcomer at the entrance to the little hollow in the earth. Gendry Baratheon, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "And what did Aegon say back at Harren?"

Davos paused for dramatic effect. "'Upon the sunset tonight, the last light you shall ever see are the flames of my dragon.'"

"And did he?!" the girl from earlier asked, almost jumping in her seat with excitement.

Davos chuckled. "When the sun had gone down, Aegon flew Balerion high above Harrenhal before plunging down. Westeros had never met the heat of a dragon's fury so great as that day. Balerion's flames did as Aegon promised, turning stone into fire as steel in a forge. Harren and his sons were buried by the glowing magma of his own towers, where nothin' but ashes were found. With their deaths, House Hoare was extinguished like the candles of Harrenhal."

The children clapped and cheered. They always cheered the stories of old times.

"Ser Davos?" the young girl asked earnestly. "Is it true that Lord Snow's related to Aegon? Mi'pa says he's got the dragon's blood. That's why he's the one sleeping"

He smiled. "Aye, it's true he is. In fact his dragon name is Aegon too, just like the Conqueror."

Nodding, the girl closed her eyes. "If he's anythin' like the Conqueror… mi'pa's worried bout everythin'. Mi'aunt's worried." She shook her head. "Do you think he'll be able to save us?"

Davos leaned forward and ruffled her hair, still smiling. "I know he will, lass. I know he will." Looking up to Gendry, who was now frowning, Davos sighed.

Part of him felt that he might've been the only one who actually believed that among all of them.

With the story of Harren the Black's demise over, it was getting time for the little ones to get off to their chores before supper. The day was growing late after all. Davos rose from the boulder he sat on and stretched his back, working out the sores in his muscles and bones.

"I didn't think they'd enjoy a story about the Targaryens," Gendry said as he came forward, "because it doesn't take the Gods to know that no one else here would."

"I enjoy them, Gendry. And from the look on your face, I'd say you did as well." Gendry initially showed genuine interest and joy when he walked in to watch the children listening, but his face turned hard and somberness filled his eyes.

"So… for all the roles you've had, Davos, nursemaid is the funniest."

Snorting, Davos cast Gendry a grin. "I raised three boys. I've got experience. And it makes livin' 'ere easier. Seeing the children happy when it's hard for us makes me happy." Better than dealing with the adults and their fatalism, which he would now head back to as it was his turn to command the watch on the palisades. "There needs to be hope for someone around 'ere at least."

Sighing, Gendry gestured to another set of boulders, and soon the two sat alongside each other. They stared at the narrow valley illuminated by the sun. "Only thing worse than no hope is false hope."

"You thinkin' that's what we have here?"

"I've been starting to wonder why we even bothered trying at all? If Jon succeeds, will the Night King and his armies all perish like they did at Winterfell? Will the world left really be worth salvaging? What kind of tomorrow would we even have if we won?"

"A hard one, lad. And it might not even be a tomorrow that we get to see for ourselves. But there were many good things we lost, things we have a chance to get back as long as we fight, and we have to believe that they're worth fighting for, Gendry."

Gendry kicked at a pile of pebbles at his feet. "I remember when we thought we should've just gotten on the ships and sailed to the lands in the west. Get far away where the dead couldn't reach us."

"The Night King froze the Narrow Sea, he'll freeze the Sunset Sea too. Or maybe he just needs to cross east of the Shadowlands to get there. He would have eventually found us." Davos looked up at the young man - too young to be hopeless. "As long as Jon's still in the past, then there's hope for us all. That's why we're here, to give him the chance."

Gendry shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." A dry chuckle from the former Lord of Storm's End. "I don't know if I want that hope, Davos. My daughter's dead. I can't get her back. I'm not a Targaryen or the damn Prince who was Promised."

When Davos wrapped an arm around Gendry's shoulder, the latter didn't shove it off. He only met Gendry's daughter, Helen, once. She was a beautiful little thing with the same Baratheon smile that Shireen had. "Your wife?"

"I miss Alys too. I thought people just say that love's built through time, but I didn't really believe it until we had Helen." Gendry's fist scrunched tight and his neck tense with veins bulging against his skin. "Why'd I live but they died?"

"I've asked myself that same question every fuckin' day since I lost my sons. And there's an answer in front of me that I won't believe no matter the result of how much we try to fight."

"What's that?"

Davos swallowed. Knowing the words was one thing, but saying them was another and it was a foul taste in his mouth. "Everyone is what they are, and where they are for a reason."

Gendry scoffed. "I see why you won't believe it then. Maybe the Gods see what the reason is, but if we can't, then it means nothing to us."

Watching him storm off, Davos leaned his head back.

"Jon… wherever you are, just keep fuckin' goin. Keep fightin', for all of us."

Sansa (Future)

A great stir of anxiousness befell upon every single person that was sheltered under the protection of the Great Weirwood ever since the news came that Brandon Stark, the Three Eyed Raven, had faded into death with a sacrifice. Without him, there was no way for the new events of the past to be relayed, for Pebble did not possess the sight. No one did.

And yet somehow, in the grove underneath the tree, there was one person out of everyone who had it in her to be humming sweetly as she brewed a cup of tea.

Kinvara sipped at the heated moss tea, sighing in relief as her aged joints seemed to relax and reinvigorate from the heat. She was looking a few years shy of Old Nan last Sansa ever saw of her former caretaker.

"How can you be acting so calm?" Sansa asked. The past few days were riddling her with torment and anticipation.

"The Three Eyed Raven has passed into the sight," Kinvara reminded, "the loss of his abilities is not a dreadful blow to us. Without him, Pebble can no longer see into the past. But there is still a manner in which we may be able to track the events of the new path. I only found out this morning."

"How?" Sansa stated, her voice sounding eager, almost desperate. Arya raised her brow and sat up from where she rested across from Jon. Her head cocked only slightly to her sister, almost like a twitching reaction. Part of her hoped for one thing, and the other part hoped for another. Each one tearing up inside. "Because a little news would be good for all of us, don't you think?"

"Of course, of course," Arya remarked with narrowed eyes. "Not that you wish to see if Daenerys is out of your way." She sat back and waited patiently, observing how things played out first.

"That is… not what I wish for, Arya." The former Queen in the North didn't know which hurt more, that she was in love with Jon and led to him losing whatever happiness he had, or that another self had a chance to lavish Jon with the love she wished she had but couldn't. "Just tell us how we can do this, Kinvara."

The priestess hobbled towards a copper lantern that lit the grove, opening the glass pane and exposing the three candle flames within, all three nearing the ends of their wicks. "Have you ever found yourself mesmerized by a flame, no matter how big or how small? You looked at it with such intense curiosity without knowing why, only a feeling that the longer you looked, the sooner something might look back?"

Sansa took a deep breath and slowly crawled over to the lantern. Arya had gotten up and followed after her, Kinvara's murmuring in High Valyrian barely registering to them. When the candle flames were within a breath's distance, she stopped and looked deeply at the flames, watching them, the soft glow and shape of them, and what was beyond them, afraid of what she might see and the heartbreak she would feel. If Jon is to win, then he needs Daenerys just as much as she needs Jon. Sansa accepted that now, but the pain remained all the same. 'I just want you to be happy, Jon. If that is with Daenerys, then I will just be happy for you…'

"I see a ship…" Arya whispered, her eyes wide as she stared into the flames. This attitude of hers was… new. She was completely entranced and mystified. "It's a Stark ship, it's going north at the head of a fleet."

Sansa locked her eyes on the candle, trying to find shapes within the flame of what Arya was describing but found nothing. Yet something about the light itself drew her gaze deeper. No, she was wrong, it wasn't the flame she had to look at, but within, for that was where she could see. Gazing into the candle and witnessing the vision ahead was nearly indescribable, like trying to focus on a memory in a dream. But there it was, a ship with the direwolf sigil of her family. And then inside, there was a door.

Kinvara exhaled a stunned breath. "There is something I feel from this. My Lord's power has become stronger."

The door disappeared like a smudge on glass, wiping away and entering inside. There, upon a large bed, were two figures locked in passionate embraces only so many could find with the ones they loved so deeply.

"I see Jon," Arya said quietly, "and Daenerys too." She sighed her relief and almost felt back. "He saved her. By the Gods, he did it."

Sansa looked away, quite embarrassed and steadily filled with a small amount of guilt for looking. "I think we're intruding on an intimate moment. But she's alive and they're together. The prophecy is completed then." She sniffed but collected herself as the tightness in her chest grew.

Jon's chambers in Winterfell had been right next to hers before his exile, so she heard just how passionate Daenerys Targaryen could be and learned an inkling of how adept a lover Jon was. At the time she thought it was simple disgust at hearing her brother cavort with a woman.

"Right," Arya continued, "I'd rather not watch the man I called brother in the middle of his nightly activities… but I have to admit he has a nice arse."

The little quip was enough to halt the tightness and made Sansa shake her head. "Arya, I swear to the gods…"

"Wait." Kinvara squinted again. "There is another entwined with them."

Sansa's gaze returned to her. "What?"

"You're joking." Arya looked intently at the flames herself. "Jon with two women, can't be. Unless Margaery worded her way into things. But he's too noble that way, unless… I can see Daenerys clearly, but the one underneath Jon…" Her eyes widened immensely.

It took a moment for Sansa to piece it together. Watching the tumbling of flesh dancing in the candlelight before she recognized the face connected to the neck Jon was kissing. "That's me," she breathed and the tightness started to relieve itself. "Wait. Jon is with me and Daenerys both?"

Arya was surprised as well, though a smirk crossed her face. "It seems Jon and Daenerys aren't the only ones enjoying a boat ride." Her chuckles made Sansa groan. "Gods, you sure are flexible, and passionate…"

"Seven hells…"

Shaking her head, Kinvara pressed her hands together. "The dragon has three heads. Three souls, three hearts, bound equally, all coming together."

"Oh they are definitely cumming together," Arya mused, tilting her head. "I didn't realize you liked sucking tits so much-"

Sansa's entire face went red hot in a blush and her heart began to pound like a sept bell in her chest. "Oh gods…" Sansa turned away, the whole matter growing even more embarrassing even if the thought of her new self living her dream did put a smile on her face. But, that did raise something she was confused about. "I'm making love with Daenerys?" The woman she scorned and envied so much in their meeting so many years ago was now kissing her softly with such a deep look of love in her eyes… How was this possible?

"Now that I did see that in the brothel, but you never gave any indication you enjoyed the ladies as well as the knights." Again, Arya cocked her head.

"How is it that you know so much of this? You only slept with Gendry once."

"Gendry, yes. Other men, yes. A couple girls, yes. I wasn't some celibate Septa in my journeys. And among other things, one tactic of an assassin is to put your marks at ease with pleasurable displays." The blush now adorned her cheeks. "You look happy though."

"Your sister is right, my Lady." Kinvara said, "The love between all three of you burns brighter than even these flames."

She still knew not what to feel about it all. Her discovery of her longtime but hidden love for Jon had been as recent as her newfound taste for lemming and willow-bark stew, while most of her was still stunned that Daenerys Targaryen of all people could earn a place in both her heart and her passions.

Sansa huffed a hot breath, relieving the growing annoyance of her sister's jabs at her. "We'll tell the people of the news, but keep this," she pointed to the candles even though she lost sight of the scene, "to ourselves. Understand?"

Within the hour, a great breath of relief filled the valley once news got around of Daenerys' survival and alliance with Jon. It brought hope again to the people.

Not wanting to be in the awkward company of the women who witnessed a vision of her in the sheets with Jon and Daenerys, Sansa took to being alone outside under the moonlight to her thoughts. But not even an hour passed by before she could hear the echoes of rejoice and celebration were heard throughout the camps. She only hoped against hope that Arya repeated her privacy enough to keep the finer details to herself. The answer to that would be revealed soon, as it was then that someone decided to join her company,

"I almost lost hope for myself that things could be won in our favor," Tyrion said as he approached Sansa with a little skip in his step. His expression was both jolly and of great relief. "As long as everyone else didn't lose it, that's all that mattered." He sighed as he took a seat on the cool grass next to her. "I'm surprised you're not rejoicing with everyone else, especially given the turn for your new life," he said in that mischievous tone that had not been heard since the days before Joffrey's death when he had reason to be the man he used to be.

Sansa scowled into the distance. "Dammit, Arya," she hissed. "Can't miss an opportunity to embarrass her big sister, can she?"

"Actually it was Kinvara who slipped the secret," Tyrion admitted, "but don't worry, it was just I she told and I won't tell another soul." He made a sewing gesture across his lips and tossed away the imaginary needle.

Surprised, Sansa folded her arms into the sleeves of her dress. "I never would have imagined it to go that way."

Tyrion shrugged his shoulders and flicked his wrist out. "It goes to show that the future is never a fixed path ahead of us. Our choices will always determine where it veers and leads us." Tyrion sighed and swatted at his knee. "I wish I saved some wine or a time like this. It would have been perfect."

Sansa nodded in agreement. "What do you think will become of your new future when we are aged to now?" she poked the question to him.

"If I had my way, I'd have my vineyard I promised to make for myself, and every tavern from Sunspear to Bear Island would have stores of my wine in stock for the finest and the best of patrons. If the Lord of Light is good to me as he is to you and Jon and Daenerys, then I believe it will happen. Yes… that will be my fate."

Sansa smiled at the dream of Tyrion's. Despite being Hand to Bran for ten years, rebuilding the realms never gave him the time to bring that dream to life.

"Would you have a wife this time? And children to keep your dream alive?"

Tyrion shook his head. "I wouldn't have children to keep my dream alive, I would have them to make their own in the world. I wouldn't be my father. That I know." He looked at her with an almost cautious gaze in his eyes. "What about you, Sansa?"

What would her future be? She felt a hint of girlish embarrassment to admit what it would be because the answer felt obvious. "I won't be afraid of trusting my future with another anymore. I'll be a mother to children who will be part of a new legacy for House Stark and Targaryen. I'll love them and Jon with all my heart."

"And Daenerys?"

Sansa felt herself crack a small smile. "Her too." The moment the words slipped her mouth, she felt a sting in her heart at the memory of the animosity between them. She built the wall between them, she refused to see Daenerys as an equal. Everything that became of that felt heavy in her heart as a regret. "I made so many mistakes."

"Everyone did, but us more than others. And now the world won't have to suffer for it. I don't know if we will get to see it, but it can happen, Sansa." He patted his knee and stood up. "Would you like to join me for supper?"

Sansa normally would just take to herself, but for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel that way at all. "It would be my pleasure, Tyrion."

Together, the two of them made their way to the camps to join in a celebratory dinner. It was arriving there that Sansa understood what the other people had been told. Daenerys and Jon had formed their alliance and were on their way to Witnerfell for the war.

Together, Tyrion and Sansa found Arya with Ser Davos, but as fast as the mood had risen, it took one sound to stop all of it in its tracks.

The echoes of a horn blast interrupted the merriment and all eyes turned to the mountain pass, waiting for any other blasts that could follow. To everyone's shock, there was a second horn blast but it wasn't the same horn as before, instead a blast higher in tone and from a horn made of metal.

"What?" Arya asked in the air. "What does that mean?"

"I know that horn," Tyrion said with a smirk. "It's the Unsullied."

"Impossible, Volantis fell months ago." Regardless of Tyrion's clarification, Arya grabbed Needle and wrapped her belt to her waist as she joined a host of others rushing to look from a viewpoint.

Sansa followed after them and could see a host of torchlight coming through the mountain pass.

"Definitely not the dead," said a man.

Another horn blast echoed from the approaching force, but it wasn't the same as either of the first two. After the uniformed march of Unsullied was another army, but scattered and out of line. They were two far and it was too dark to spot any banners if there were any. All any of them could do was wait.

Sansa joined Kinvara, Davos, King Auric, and Podrick when the host of armies finally came to them. As Tyrion had said, it was the Unsullied, but the other host was one not expected. Yara Greyjoy led her host of Ironborn at the front.

"Kinvara," Grey Worm greeted, "we held out for as long as we could, but we are all that remain in the world now. The Great Demon has won."

"No, he hasn't," Sansa said, "everything we have worked for is not in vain, especially now."

Grey Worm gave her a cold stare before he began conversing with Kinvara in Valyrian.

"It is true, Torgo Nuhdo," Kinvara said calmly. "The prophecy is being fulfilled. As I prayed to the Lord of Light this evening, I felt his answer. The Night King grows scared."

"Hoorah for all," Yara said sarcastically, "but as long as the Night King's alive, we're not safe. He's killed dragons before, so don't go thinking that all is a clean sweep for us."

"Can't we just set sail somewhere else?" A man from the gathering crowd asked openly.

"No," Arya spoke up, "we're not tucking tail and leaving Jon behind unguarded. Just because things are going as they were meant to now, it doesn't mean we can forget or troubles are gone."

Before people could decide how they felt about that, Yara brought forth incredible news. "There's nowhere we can sail to now anyways. The oceans froze over when we were twenty leagues from the cove your maps led us to."

"What?" Davos said.

Yara looked around the valley. "This here might just be the last place in the world where winter hasn't come yet."

Yet being the key word.

In all of this, Sansa did not find herself disturbed from hope or faltering in what she believed in now.

The next words were some that Sansa never thought she would be able to say the night she saw Winterfell burn. "We're going to win this war."

Everyone looked at her silently, some not believing it was possible.

"Aye," Davos nodded, "we're gonna win this." His voice was filled with true belief in his words and his added assurance spread to everyone around. "Did you bring any supplies with yeh?"

Yara nodded. "Only what we could carry. If we had a wagon or two we could have emptied one of our ships at least…" She stopped talking when she caught sight of someone. Pebble stepped through those gathered to meet the new arrivals with everyone. In Pebble's hand was her weirwood bow and a dragonglass arrow.

"This is Pebble," Sansa introduced, "it was her connection to the Old Gods that gave us the second chance we have." She looked at Pebble to introduce yara and Grey Worm, but then saw how she had this look of puzzlement about her. "Is something the matter?"

"I heard a whisper from the weirwood," Pebble said softly, "one that I was not able to through my hopelessness. There's someone here that does not belong."

"What?" Arya asked.

Yara looked disappointed. "I know we were all at odds once, but can you really pick and choose at a time like this?"

Pebble had practically ignored Yara, looking around and then closing her eyes. There was a haunting silence among everyone, only the distant rustling of the weirwood's million leaves gave noise along with the faint cawing of ravens.

Pebble sucked in a breath and looked up at the sky, everyone followed the direction of her gaze and saw that indeed there was a flock of ravens flying overhead. Without a second's hesitation, Pebble knocked her arrow and drew back, shooting it far into the sky and hitting one of the ravens.

"What do yeh think yer doin" Davos asked, startled by the action.

Pebble didn't answer. She broke through the people in front of her and chased down the raven she shot. The flock had then flown away, retreating south from the auspicious attack.

"Do you think the moss tea finally got to her?" Arya asked.

It wasn't long before Pebble returned with her kill, and she looked absolutely devastated. "It's dead."

"Well obviously," said Yara, "that happens when you shoot birds out of the sky."

"I mean it was dead before I shot it." Upon closer inspection, the raven looked partially strange, almost deflated in a way.

Then the realization hit everyone all at once.

"You don't mean…" Arya started but could not finish her sentence.

Pebble looked back to the south. "He found us. He is coming."