The War of the Wolf-Chapter 1 of the Wolf King Trilogy

by Ranma789

Did you wish Robb Stark's story ended differently? If he could avoid just one or two mistakes, huge changes will occur to Westeros. Can Robb win the War of the Five Kings? Will Sansa, Arya and Bran be able to play a role? Get ready for a mix of old and new story. HUGE changes to the fate of some main characters. Alternate pairings. First chapter of the planned Wolf King Trilogy.

16. Everything Happens for a Reason

Chapter 16: Everything Happens for a Reason

As strange as it might have seemed, in the month and more that had passed between the Second Battle of the Trident and the coronation, Catelyn Stark, who had stayed as close as possible to the children she had never hoped to see again, had hardly had the chance to exchange words with Petyr Baelish. Something for which he was extremely grateful: as much as he was an extraordinary liar, he was grateful that Sansa had not wished to tell her mother the truth about the matter between him, her, and Lysa.

However, on the second day after the coronation, on the eve of the royal wedding between Robb and Margaery, Catelyn Stark found the opportunity to speak with her former childhood companion, alone.

She found him in a corridor of the Red Keep—he was certainly waiting for her—late in the evening and approached him. He seemed surprised, but not troubled.

"Lord Baelish," she greeted him coldly.

"Lady Stark," he replied, "always a pleasure to meet the King's Mother. We have both been busy these past weeks, I fear. But never so much as to be unable to exchange a few words between old friends."

"I fear you would not find it a pleasure," she replied, "especially considering what I am about to tell you."

"What should you tell me… Cat?"

"The last time we spoke alone, I believe I told you that you lost the right to call me that," she replied. "And you also did something else that it would be better if my son, the King, never knew… you proposed that I free Jaime Lannister."

"And you had the good sense not to do it."

"I never had the chance, and the situation made it unnecessary, fortunately. But you promised me that if I had done it, I would have gotten my daughters back. BOTH of them. Instead, even then, you lied to me. Arya had not been in King's Landing for months."

"If I had told you, you would not have done it. And so, you would have never seen Sansa again either. But fortunately, things turned out differently… I took care of saving her, as you well know. So, my intentions were truly those."

"I believe no one knows what your intentions are, Petyr Baelish. Not even you, perhaps. I have the idea that they change constantly, like clouds in the sky. Now you think that, as gratitude for your support, the fact that you betrayed Ned has been forgiven.

It has.

But I warn you. It has not been forgotten.

And this leads me to ask myself… what else have you lied to me about?"

"What do you mean?"

"My sister Lysa… did she really commit suicide?"

"Really? Oh, Cat, you surprise me… you are not even doubting me here… it is your sweet daughter you do not trust," he said, honeyed.

Catelyn stepped closer to him, her eyes blazing.

"What do you think? That I do not know? That I have not noticed how you look at her? Oh, perhaps others might not see it… but I am her mother, Baelish. And I warn you. Try to touch her with even a single finger…"

"I assure you, I have never…"

"I DO NOT TRUST YOU. Every word you say is poison. Lying comes as naturally to you as breathing. Is this the truth, Petyr? Did you do all this because you could not have me, so many years ago? Delivering Ned to the Lannisters… and then, seeing that I hated you, settling for my daughter?

As if you had not already married poor Lysa… who had been madly in love with you since childhood… was it not enough for you to spread those rumors…"

"Which rumors are you talking about?"

"Do you think I am stupid? I heard them when I came to King's Landing to investigate. It was said that YOU had taken MY virginity, Petyr… and we both know that is not true…"

Littlefinger seemed, for once, genuinely astonished.

"But… Cat… you know that…"

"I know what? I was betrothed to Brandon Stark, and when I married Ned, I was still a virgin, you filthy worm. My father displayed the bloodstained sheet the next day. There were witnesses to the bedding ceremony."

He remained silent. She noticed his genuine shock, for once.

"No, you… you truly believe it," she observed. "But how…?"

"But… it was… when I was wounded by Brandon Stark, after the duel… you entered my room and…"

Catelyn Tully, Widow Stark, experienced the final shock of those terrible years. In an instant, everything became clear to her.

She stepped away from him, leaning one arm against the wall for support and holding her head with the other hand. She felt dizzy.

"What is happening, Cat?"

"I… I understand. Suddenly, I understand everything."

And she began to weep, sadness beyond sadness.

"What have you understood?"

"Petyr, I NEVER ENTERED YOUR ROOM. And… until today… I have been ashamed of it. I was sad that Brandon had hurt you, and I truly wanted to take care of you myself… but I never could. My father, Lord Hoster, forbade me."

He watched her, slightly sobbing, beginning to understand.

"And instead," she continued, "it was my sister Lysa who came to care for you. Do you understand, Petyr? It was always her! It was HER virginity that you took, believing, in your fever, that she was me. And not only that," she continued after a moment, "now I understand what my father's last words on his deathbed meant… delirious, apologizing to Lysa… saying she would have other children, legitimate ones… and that word… tansy, an herbal remedy…

Lysa was pregnant with your child, Petyr. That was also why my father cast you out. And then… he forced her to take a potion to abort, I believe… and she… she must have never fully recovered from the pain and shock."

Petyr Baelish stood for a long moment contemplating the void. It was rare for him to be taken by surprise. And in this case, it was something fundamental to his identity that was falling apart. Catelyn continued to sob.

Finally, she raised her head. "Please, Petyr, tell me the truth, for once… how did Lysa die?"

Littlefinger looked at her incredible blue eyes, filled with tears.

How could anybody lie to that?

"Cat… I assure you… I am sorry to have to tell you this, but… Lysa was… a very disturbed woman… more than I ever imagined… If I had known… if I had imagined… maybe, I could have prevented…"

"And… regarding Sansa?"

"Sansa. You raised a flower, Catelyn. Even more beautiful than you, if I may. And clever. Well, in that regard, she has learned a little from me, as well. And you're right, I… had an interest in her, I admit it.

Politically, however. She was a sort of life insurance for me, once the Lannisters were defeated. A pawn to trade in order to gain your son's favor, had he won, or to deliver the North to Stannis, had he lost.

Not a very honorable thing, I agree, but a wise choice.

I always favored Robb, however: he seemed much more reasonable to deal with, and he proved as such, indeed.

I often asked your sister to side with Robb, but she always refused, choosing neutrality.

Any Lord of the Vale could confirm that this was always her firm intention: to stay out of it."

"And… you never…"

"Cat, Sansa is still a virgin, I swear! And I brought her to the Vale, keeping her hidden even from Lysa! Pretending she was my daughter!

She was constantly somewhere managing the castle… how do you think I could have… or do you really think I would have been so foolish to risk everything i'd gained just to…"

"Good," she said, with a neutral tone and expression, moving closer to him. He blushed suddenly, their faces very close. "Now I am more at ease, and I can tell you the rest."

"Cat…" he murmured, melting.

"I believe I told you…"

Catelyn slipped the dagger from his belt—yes, the very dagger that had been used to try to kill Bran, which he had started wearing at his waist with incredible smugness ever since she had handed it to him some time before—and pressed it to his throat, drawing a thin line of blood.

"… not to call me CAT again!"

Suddenly, the excitement in Petyr Baelish turned into terror.

"Listen to me carefully," she continued, "because I will say this only once. You got lucky. You came out clean from this mess, whatever the truth was.

And you even profited. Now you are a high Lord, all those who looked down on you are dead, you are back on the Small Council, and you are untouchable… because the Lords of the Vale trust you.

Do not push your luck further. I am convinced that appointing you to the Council was a mistake, but I will not challenge my son.

But if you so much as think of betraying Robb as you did with Ned… I swear I will kill you with my own hands."

And she left with the dagger, leaving him there, stunned, breathing heavily.

---

Robb Stark married Margaery Tyrell once again in the Godswood of King's Landing, with all the Lords and Knights as witnesses. Then began a long procession leading them to the Great Sept of Baelor, where they were wed again in the rite of the Seven, blessed by the High Septon himself.

The confirmation of the marriage made Margaery Tyrell the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

After the High Septon had placed the Seven-Pointed Necklace, one of the new royal symbols, on Margaery, it was Robb himself who set the crown upon her head—similar to his own, with a silver base, but smaller and with an emerald representing the Tyrells at the front, in the center—before kissing her passionately under the roar of the crowd.

After that, he removed the green and yellow coat she had, donning the colors of her noble House, to put on her shoulders the coat with the colors of the Starks, white and grey.

The newlyweds truly seemed happy as they led the reverse procession, followed by all the guests, holding hands as they rode two white stallions through the streets of the capital, between cheering crowds throwing flowers at them.

Robb wore a grayish-blue doublet and a soft fur cloak, while Margaery, instead of her usual light green, had opted for an elaborate yet modest dress in cream and gold.

Sansa sported a more intricate hairstyle than usual and a less revealing dress than at the coronation, in a sea-green hue that made her look even more stunning, while Arya, resigned to the idea of dressing like a lady, had, besides her bun, two curls falling on the sides of her face and a sleeveless olive-green gown.

Even Gendry, newly named a Lord and decidedly out of place in all this splendor, had been dressed in a light brown doublet with golden accents and the black stag of Baratheon on his broad chest—and he was certainly drawing glances from the young ladies for various reasons—but he kept searching for her with his gaze, as if she could rescue him from the embarrassment.

The blacksmith turned Lord was often accompanied by the men who had helped him: Davos, in a simple wine-colored outfit, Maester Cressen, in a black robe, and his former master Thobo Mott, somewhat moved at the thought of his departure, in a bicolored doublet, coral and steel gray.

Once back at the Red Keep, the feast was the first order of business. Though Robb had requested to avoid excessive opulence, it was still a celebration, and the Tyrells had been adamant they wanted something lavish.

The compromise was seven main courses, each featuring typical products of one of the Seven Kingdoms, composing both the main dish and all the accompanying side dishes.

---

After the banquet, people went to the dancing hall.

All the most famous tunes were played, along with others composed for the occasion, and naturally, various couples, both fixed and temporary, were formed for each dance.

Robb and Margaery made a truly beautiful couple. She was radiant and looked straight into his eyes with her green irises, dancing with such grace that she seemed to glide above the ground.

"Have mercy on me," Robb said jokingly. "I fear I'm not as good a dancer, and I'd rather it not be too obvious to the onlookers."

"Oh, don't worry," she replied. "You have all the time in the world to learn. For now, just follow my lead."

Olenna Tyrell, dressed in gold, observed them, thoughtful. All in all, things were going really well.

As the dances continued, the couples parted to allow everyone a chance to dance.

Robb also danced with his mother, with Sansa, and even with Arya. Then he had to grant a dance to his mother-in-law, Alerie Hightower, to Leonette Fossoway, Garlan's wife, and to many of Margaery's ladies, as well as to Yohn Royce's daughter, Ysilla, and several others.

There was a sort of protocol on which ladies he had to, could, or could not dance with, and though he appeared the perfect gentleman from the outside, internally he was struggling, trying to remember who was who, if he could, and in what order, cursing all ceremonies, protocols, and the damned throne itself.

Catelyn also danced with Mace Tyrell, her co-father-in-law, with Yohn Royce, with her brother Edmure, with her uncle Brynden, with Jason Mallister, and with some high Lords she knew, mainly Northern bannermen, including both Glover brothers, Lord Tallhart, and even Greatjon. But though she was extremely happy for her son, she could not fully enjoy the celebration.

She missed Ned.

Edmure Tully, quite a sought-after bachelor and by no means insensitive to feminine charm, was practically being pursued by a beautiful girl in a blue dress with a cascade of red curls—Desmera Redwyne, the daughter of Lord Paxter—seeking a good marriage, or perhaps pushed by Olenna, who had already married off the fourteen-year-old Dickon Tarly, son of Randyll, to Eleanor of House Mooton, revealing ambitions even in the Riverlands.

But after three dances with Desmera—and several with other maidens—he was left utterly mesmerized watching a young woman with light brown hair, dressed in a yellow gown, the color of her house: Carellen Smallwood, daughter of the Lord of Acorn Hall, one of his main bannermen.

At that moment, many understood how the succession of the Riverlands would be settled, and Desmera consoled herself by dancing with Marq Piper, who did not seem to displease her… and who would have been at least a decent marital replacement.

Queen Margaery was, of course, one of the most sought-after and granted dance partners, aside from her father, as tradition dictated, and each of her brothers—radiant as she was—Willas, Garlan, and Loras, in that order. Though the eldest, lame in one leg, could only dance slow steps, he did not seem embarrassed in the slightest. She also danced with several other lords, young and old, but mainly those of importance, always knowing exactly what to do.

After her, the undisputed star of the ball was Sansa, who was fiercely competed for by many young lords and knights, almost fought over, but she also danced with her new brothers-in-law—Willas, Garlan, and Loras—remembering that she had once had a crush on the latter, long ago, and that now some would have wanted her to marry the eldest. Then with Andar and Robar Royce, Yohn's sons, and then with various lords of the North and the Riverlands, including Harrion Karstark, Marq Piper, Brynden Blackwood, the elder brother of the Kingsguard knight, and several others. She even danced with Petyr Baelish, as if nothing had happened.

Among the lords who had once been enemies, Addam Marbrand—an objectively handsome man, with red hair and beard—was quite successful.

There were also people who did not dance, standing as mere onlookers, such as Tyrion Lannister and Brienne of Tarth. The latter could have joined, as the Kingsguard had permission to wear civilian clothes and enjoy themselves that day, but she did not feel at ease.

The Hound stood in a corner, a grim look on his face, chainmail on his body, and a hand on the sword at his belt.

On the other hand, Dacey Mormont was in high demand—stunning in a pleated gray and blue dress with green trims—as if the unusual contrast between being a beautiful woman and a warrior, which had repelled many three days prior, now excited them.

But first and foremost, she offered a dance to her King, raising an eyebrow from Margaery—not that she was jealous of any woman on Earth; she was far too confident for that—and a groan from Brienne, who shared Dacey's warrior's spirit but not the beauty.

Naturally, the person most sullen of all—although, at ten years old, he would not have been interested in dancing anyway—was Bran, who watched from a side room while practicing rolling his new wheeled chair, a gift from Willas Tyrell. Later, he decided, he would go to the Godswood to be with Summer.

Arya had tried to dance as little as possible, using Rickon as an excuse, moving him around a bit before handing him over to a servant. But then, much to her dismay, she was forced to dance, giving in to the twins Martyn and Willem Lannister, in turns.

Through it all, Gendry remained on the sidelines, dejected and blushing, even though a few highborn girls occasionally approached him with interest.

Noticing the situation, Sansa, having taken a short break, took charge; or rather, she swept past Gendry, took his hands in hers, and literally dragged him onto the dance floor while the boy turned red as a beet and stammered in embarrassment.

"M-my Lady, I mean… My Princess, I… I don't know how to dance… I'm just a commoner… I'll make you look bad."

"Relax, Lord Baratheon," she told him, "I specifically chose an easy, slow dance. Stop trembling and follow my steps. And there's no need to call me Princess—Lady Sansa will do just fine."

"Th-thank you… and you… you can call me Gendry. I… I'm not used to being a Lord."

"And yet, you'll have to get used to it—that's what you are now. Don't worry, sometimes it might be boring, and I bet you might miss the forge, but there are also good sides to it."

"Yes… I suppose… Maester Cressen explained some things to me, and said that Storm's End's maester will teach me more, little by little… Gods, it doesn't even feel real… I've always just been a bastard… to think I used to call Robert Baratheon an old drunkard… but he was actually my father… and in the end, I never got to know him."

"Oh, he was definitely a drunkard, I guarantee you that, but he wasn't old—he was my father's age, and I won't see mine again either… but he was also many other things, like a great warrior…

We can never judge a person by just one aspect—each of us is many things at once… For example, did you know that I, too, was once a bastard?"

"You, my Lady? How…?"

"At the Eyrie, I had to stay in hiding for months during the war… and I pretended to be Petyr Baelish's bastard. I went by the name Alayne Stone… and in doing so, I came to understand many things… how bastards are treated, even highborn ones… and how foolish I had been in the past."

"In what way?"

"I have a bastard half-brother too, you know? His name is Jon—Jon Snow—and for most of my life, I treated him coldly… only to realize how much I missed him while he was away… I should have told him sooner."

"Did something… happen to him?" he asked hesitantly.

"I don't think so, but he is far away—at the Wall. He joined the Night's Watch and is currently fighting to protect the realm."

"I see. I… I was sent to join the Watch, too, though I never understood why… but now I do… Tobho Mott truly cared for me after all those years and wanted to keep me safe from Cersei Lannister's assassins… That's where I first met… well, your sister."

"Yes, she told me. By the way, Arya is very fond of Jon, and I'm sure she would have loved to see him again," Sansa said with a smile.

"Speaking of Arya, I imagine you've been through quite a lot with her. I must apologize for that," she added with an overly contrite expression. "She can be a real disaster—I know that well."

At that moment, while dancing, they reached the center of the hall, drawing many gazes and coming close to Arya herself. Seeing her beautiful sister dancing with Gendry, of all people, Arya felt something indescribable but certainly not pleasant, as if she were being wronged. She abruptly let go of poor Willem Lannister and went to sit down, sulking.

"Oh, no, My Lady Sansa, I assure you," said Gendry, who was beginning to relax, "your sister is... well, she's extraordinary.

She's clever, courageous, and... she has imagination and... initiative. Without her... we often wouldn't have made it, I must say. A person like her... you don't meet every day."

"Oh, really?" Sansa said, feigning surprise. "Well then, I think you should tell her in person, don't you?

As I was saying earlier about my half-brother, we shouldn't have regrets about not telling people what we think of them."

"Uh? Well, I..."

And as if by magic, as they finished the dance and before the next song began, they had reached the spot where Arya was sitting, her face sullen.

Sansa twirled with her hands still in Gendry's, stopped, let go of him, took Arya's hands, pulled her to her feet, and placed her hands on his, saying:

"I'm a bit tired, little sister. Take over for me, I need a break." Then she left in a single movement, just as a new song began.

Arya found herself, almost unwillingly, drawn into dancing with Gendry, who had just finished spinning with one lady and now started dancing with another.

"Uh... I... well... good evening," he said, embarrassed.

"I'm not very good at these things. It's not... my style," she replied.

"Well, then it's perfect. It's not my style either."

For a while, they danced in silence, a slow waltz.

Then Gendry gathered his courage and said, "Heh, I really never would have imagined it. That when I met that boy named Arry in Yoren's caravan... I was actually talking to Arya Stark... today, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms."

"I'm not a princess!" she protested.

"Of course you are," he insisted.

"Maybe in title, but not in... manners. I don't think I'm really cut out for it."

"Do you think I feel cut out to be a Lord? I became one five minutes ago, basically. It's all new to me."

"And for me, it's not, even though... I must admit, I spent my whole life wanting to run away from what I had... from what I was supposed to be... and when I really had to run away, I dreamed of coming back... not necessarily to this world, but... to the people in it... my family."

"I understand," he said, though in truth, having never had a family himself, he didn't fully understand. "But I'm happy about something else, too."

"What?"

"Well, for a moment, when I saw you again... I thought we were in two separate worlds... but now, as a Lord... I still get to be... part of your world, so to speak."

She looked up at him.

She didn't know how to tell him.

At that moment, the ballroom doors swung open, and heralds announced loudly:

"Your Majesties, Honored Guests; we beg your pardon for the interruption and the delay; but the guests from DORNE have arrived."

And with that, a procession of about fifty nobles from that distant land of sand entered, each stepping forward one by one to pay homage, bow, and swear allegiance to the royal couple.

But leading the group were two young people, she a little older than Margaery, he about Sansa's age or slightly younger.

They were the Heirs Princes of Dorne, Aryanne and Quentyn Martell.

It was she, the elder, who spoke first.

"Your Majesty Robert Stark, Your Majesty Margaery Tyrell, we renew our congratulations on your union and bring you the homage of our father, Prince Doran Martell of Sunspear."

Then Quentyn immediately followed: "Furthermore, we extend our sincerest apologies for the delay: the journey by sea was faster than on horseback but full of unforeseen events."

Robb, after the customary pleasantries, said:

"No problem, Princess Aryanne; Prince Quentyn. How is your father? I would have expected to see him as well, or at least his brother, your uncle Oberyn."

"Unfortunately, Your Majesty," Aryanne reiterated with another bow, "our father is afflicted with gout, which prevents him from traveling long distances; he has entrusted us with offering his most sincere apologies for not being present."

"But he has also instructed us," Quentyn added, glancing at Mace and Willas Tyrell, "to tell you that he greatly appreciated your... gift."

The young man was referring to the gigantic head of Gregor Clegane, preserved in formaldehyde, which Robb had sent via caravan. The Mountain had been guilty of the rape of Princess Elia and the murder of her and at least one of her children at the end of the Rebellion.

"Moreover, he also believed," the young man continued, casting glances at the guests and dancing couples, "that the presence of our uncle could have spoiled the festive atmosphere, reopening old wounds. So, he deemed it wiser to send only us."

"I assure you that my brother holds no grudge against Oberyn Martell for that old tournament incident," declared Margaery. "But it's true my father does, so please tell the Prince, upon your return, that I thank him for his consideration."

"We will be sure to do so, Your Grace," Aryanne replied.

"And, regarding my proposal?" Robb asked. "Does your presence mean that he has accepted?"

"Let's say that there are very good chances, Your Majesty," Aryanne confirmed.

"In fact, one of the reasons we are here," Quentyn added, glancing at the guests and the dancing couples, "is to verify it in person."

---

[ THE DAY BEFORE THE ROYAL WEDDING THE KING'S PRIVATE SOLARIUM, IN THE RED KEEP

Around a round table sat the five Stark siblings. All in chairs, except for Bran, who was on his wheeled chair—already having fun spinning himself around—and there were three more empty seats.

On the table were pitchers of water with glasses, carafes of light honeyed beer, and baskets of fruit.

"Why did you gather us here?" Arya asked her brother, who had become King just two days prior.

"Right, you didn't say... well, does our mother know where we are? And that Rickon is with us?" Sansa asked.

"Yes, I did. I told her I needed some time alone with you before the wedding and practically forced her to take a break and relax as well; and I can hardly believe it, but she agreed," Robb explained.

"Where are the direwolves? Where is Shaggydog?" Rickon asked, hostile.

"They are in the Godswood, little brother," he explained. "They will get used to staying there for a few days, since tomorrow, at the wedding, they might bite someone. But after that, I will keep Grey Wind at court as usual. I trust his instincts."

"You said you wanted to spend time with us?" Arya asked.

"Yes, and it's the truth. You are my brothers and sisters, and I love you. In the past few weeks, we've been able to see each other again... after years, in some cases, and after what will happen tomorrow... well, you'll stay here a little longer, but then we'll have to part ways again.

I will have to remain in King's Landing to rule, whether I like it or not, while you will leave."

"We know," Sansa told him, placing a hand on his. "But we will always be a family, even apart, wherever we are, just as we have been in these difficult times. And besides," she continued with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, "we are leaving you in good hands, I believe. Those of your young and beautiful wife."

Robb winked at her. "You know, I can't decide whether you like Margaery or not."

"It's... complicated," she said. "I do like her, but at the same time... well, let's put it this way. If I were the same person who first came to King's Landing, full of dreams about knights, ladies, princes and fables... I would think she's wonderful and wouldn't wish for anything better than to have a sister like her."

"Hey!" Arya protested.

"BUT, since I have grown up," Sansa continued, giving her a look, "I can't help but see how all her courtesy and manners hide the desire to... control and influence... so I can't fully trust her."

"Control and influence... like you've learned to do as well, you mean?" Robb asked, amused.

"Precisely" she replied, without so much a hint of shame.

"I understand, and I appreciate your concern, sister. But don't worry. I've always known that the Tyrells act in their own interests, from day one.

But starting tomorrow, their interests will be tied to those of the realm, whether they like it or not. Trying to gain too much personally could be counterproductive.

"As for Margaery, she has already been helpful to me in the past, and I believe I can trust her... I want this marriage to work since the kingdom depends on it... but I will try not to be too influenced."

Arya was still doubtful. She just didn't like Margaery. Instead, she said:

"So, you want to spend time with us? We could have gone to the Godswood."

"Yes, it's a safe place, and maybe we'll go there later, but it's still not isolated enough for what I need to do," Robb said enigmatically before continuing.

"But first of all, I want to tell you that I am proud of you, my siblings. Of all of you.

I have fought wars, and of course, it has been difficult, and I have proven my worth, but I have also been helped by many extraordinary people... while you all found yourselves, at an age when you should still be thinking about games, having to do everything on your own.

"Each of you had to endure terrible situations—yes, even Rickon, in a way, was brave to be without our mother for so long—and I still get chills and feel anger when I think about what you've been through and what you have risked, without me being able to help you.

And yet, you made it through, surviving and emerging stronger.

"You have learned who you are. You have learned to do things that are likely your path in life. Each of you has contributed to a piece of what we have built today."

Arya was moved but, at the same time, felt like a fraud.

After all, compared to what Bran had done, protecting the North, and what Sansa had done, bringing the Vale of Arryn to Robb's side, what had she done that was so special?

But then, all the siblings held hands in a circle.

Their eyes were all misty.

Sansa said, "I... I think our father..."

Robb nodded. "Yes, Sansa, he would be happy to see us like this. As surely is mother."

They all remained silent, absorbed in thought. It was a moment just for them.

Then Robb was the first to break away from the group embrace.

"And that is why I know you will be up to what I'm about to tell you... even though I really hate having to do it."

"But come on, what's with all these mysteries?" Arya protested.

"Yes, it sounds like you have a very important announcement to make," Sansa added.

Bran, strangely, had remained silent the entire time.

Robb took a deep breath and said, "The thing is... I don't know where to begin. It all seems unbelievable even to me.

"You see, some time ago, I started receiving reports from various people, all trustworthy... of events that suggest magic exists.

"Our mother, Dacey, and Brienne witnessed the shadow demon that assassinated Renly Baratheon in his tent, sent by Stannis through Melisandre, the Red Priestess.

Later, Davos confirmed that he had seen one as well, sent to kill Cortney Penrose, with Davos himself unwittingly involved."

Arya shivered at the mention of Melisandre. It was one of the few names on her list still alive.

"And then YOU, little sister," Robb said, pointing at her, "you met that witch in person, the one who took Gendry away for her magical rituals.

He says she used his blood to curse Balon Greyjoy and make him die, though that sounds more like a fabrication than anything else. A way to persuade Stannis to do whatever she wanted.

"From what Davos says, however, Melisandre seems to actually have foreseen future events that actually came to pass, which is surprising in itself. But you also told me..."

"Yes," Arya said. "That in the Brotherhood Without Banners, there was that Thoros of Myr... who used to be at court here... a priest of the same religion as Melisandre... that's why he sold Gendry to her... but he... Robb, I also saw him bring Beric Dondarrion back to life with my own eyes!"

"Couldn't he have just healed him?" Sansa asked, doubtful.

"He brought him back to life, I tell you!" Arya protested. "The Hound had cut him open from the shoulder to the guts... and twenty seconds later, the wound had closed, and he was standing, lively as if nothing had happened!

Ask him directly if you don't believe me! He's always buzzing around you, anyway!"

"Shouldn't we avoid talking about dismemberments in front of Rickon?" she asked, irritated, without commenting on the insinuation.

"Hey, I'm ALREADY six years old!" he protested.

"And then," Robb continued, "if I'm not mistaken, Arya, you also said that at Harrenhal, you also met..."

The girl remained silent for a moment before answering. She knew she wouldn't be believed.

"One of the Faceless Men of Braavos," she finally said.

"What?"

"It's true, I'm telling you. He ran his hand over his face and… changed his appearance! I KNOW it sounds unbelievable, but it's the truth, you have to believe me."

"They are famous assassins, whether they truly use magic or not," Robb said.

"And that makes me wonder what mission he had… Besides, I'd like to have a chat with this Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion as well…"

"Yes, you should send your men to hunt them down," Arya said, full of resentment.

"I was already planning to," Robb said. "But first, there are other aspects to consider. Since we arrived in the capital, there have been rumors from all over the eastern continent.

It seems the last surviving Targaryen has three baby dragons. That dragons have been reborn into the world after nearly two hundred years."

"Really?"

"Wow!" Rickon exclaimed.

"After all, it's not impossible," Robb continued. "We know for certain that dragons DID exist, so they could return as well. And they are certainly creatures whose existence would seem incredible if we didn't already know they were real.

Of course… if that girl decided to invade us… that would be a big problem.

And finally… speaking of creatures whose existence we're unsure of… here is the gravest matter. It also concerns our brother Jon, at the Wall."

Everyone looked at him, puzzled.

"The last messages from Castle Black reported sightings of the Others."

Three pairs of eyes widened in disbelief at that statement.

"The Others? But… but… they're just a fairy tale!"

"The ones Old Nan used to tell us!"

"That's what I thought too, really," Robb admitted. "But lately, I've started to believe it's true. For two main reasons.

First of all, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch is—or was, since it seems he's dead—Jeor Mormont, a man in whom our father placed the utmost trust. He wouldn't send false reports in the ravens he dispatches across the Seven Kingdoms. And he writes that the dead have started rising from their graves."

A stunned silence followed that statement.

Arya thought about how she had learned to kill people.

But how do you kill someone who doesn't stay dead?

"But… but there could be a mistake. Maybe…" Sansa suggested.

"And the second reason," Robb interrupted her, "is that I have seen a certain thing with my own eyes."

"Which thing?"

"Not here. Follow me"

So, the Royal Family went out, with Sansa pushing Bran's chair, and they all went to the Godswood, the one place in the entire Red Keep where no men of Andal descent could be found. Actually, it seemed completely empty, save for their direwolves, playing in the background.

And at that moment, something happened.

Rickon threw his head back, and his eyes turned white.

Sansa gasped, stepping back, and, strangely, it was Arya who let out a scream.

Their little brother began to speak in a voice that COULD NOT be his own, a cavernous, terrifying voice.

"You took your time, Robb Stark."

"Calm down," Bran intervened. "Rickon is fine, I assure you. The one speaking is someone else, using his body… as a conduit. He's not harming him."

"W-what?"

"Someone else is speaking through him? And who the hell would that be?"

"The Three-Eyed Raven," Bran replied confidently.

The two sisters looked at Bran, who seemed to know more than anyone, then at Rickon again, then at Robb, who was disturbed but not surprised.

"Who the hell is that? And why don't you seem surprised?"

"Well, actually," Bran began, "the Three-Eyed Raven, from what I understand, is a legendary figure. There is one in every generation. He is granted the power of the ancient Children of the Forest… the first worshippers of the Weirwood trees. And his duty is… to watch over the world. To maintain balance."

The two girls remained silent for a moment. Then they cast an inquisitive look at Robb.

"Yes, this isn't the first time I've seen this," their elder brother, the King, confessed.

"In the past, he has already contacted me, without revealing his identity. And then, last week, he spoke me about Bran. And he asked me to arrange this meeting so he could speak directly with you as well. He said that… otherwise, you wouldn't understand."

"But… Bran… do you know this… Three-Eyed Raven personally?"

"Yes," Bran nodded. "He's the one who has appeared in my dreams ever since Jaime Lannister pushed me from that tower."

In short, Bran explained all the dreams he had had since waking up and how some of them had turned out to be prophetic.

It was by learning to interpret them correctly, he said, that he had been able to save Winterfell both times—first from the Ironborn, then from Ramsay Bolton.

His sisters listened, mouths agape.

"You… see the future?" Arya asked him.

"Not exactly," Bran explained. "Sometimes, in dreams, I see… images of what will happen in the future. Like a painting or a theatrical performance. But they are… symbols. Metaphors. I have to… figure out what they represent. And they don't come very often."

"And you knew about all this?" Sansa asked Robb.

"I only found out he was in contact with Bran a week ago, to be honest," Robb replied. "But the Three-Eyed Raven had already contacted me some time before."

"What? When?"

"The first time was in a tent with Garlan Tyrell," he said. "Right before the battle against Stannis, the first one, at the Gods Eye. The Raven—back then, I didn't know that's what he was called—possessed him.

His eyes turned white, he started speaking in that voice and… well, I nearly drew my sword, to be honest—it almost gave me a heart attack," he admitted.

"What did he tell you?"

"I gave him a prophecy about his future," the voice coming from Rickon replied.

"For one reason only: to make sure that, later, he would believe me.

He needed to know that my powers were real. That I spoke the truth."

"And… what did he told you to prove it?"

"He told me something about a request from my bannermen, one I had already accepted during the meeting that had just ended.
That would cause great suffering at first, but great good would come from it later."

"What does that mean?"

"The Freys and the Brackens asked to be placed on the right side of the formation, while the Boltons and the Ryswells were assigned to command the rear guard cavalry."

"The very ones... who later betrayed you?"

"Exactly. The great suffering was that they were in the perfect position to encircle us, along with Stannis's troops.

The great good was that, being them on the side instead of at the center, I was able to give the order to retreat and still save almost the entire army—something that would have been impossible if they had been in a different position."

"And so?"

"And so, after the battle, not only was I already shaken by the betrayal, but I had also received confirmation that that damned apparition, which I thought I had dreamed, was telling the truth. That a supernatural being was there to communicate with me.

I even considered that it might be a trick by Melisandre; but I dismissed the idea. Even though that witch undoubtedly had powers, she wouldn't have used such a trick just to tell me something like that—she would have tried to deceive me into losing the battle.

Instead, this way, I knew for sure that he had seen the future and that he was telling the truth."

"Are you saying," Arya asked, "that you won the war thanks to the advice of this… Raven?"

"Hey, don't underestimate me, little sister," he retorted, feigning offense.

"He only contacted me two more times, and only once did he give me a sort of advice—and it was brief and cryptic at that. I had to interpret it, just like Bran.

It happened a few months later, while Dacey was on watch with me during an expedition: he possessed her and made her say, 'REMEMBER THE STONE.'"

"And after thinking about it for a while, I figured he meant the mountains, so, since I had just contacted Howland Reed to rescue our mother, I went to wait for him at the crossroads leading to the Vale of Arryn, near the Trident.

It was, in any case, a good location—both to receive them and to battle Stannis. I had considered that it might also mean the Vale would intervene, but I wasn't sure… nor whether they would arrive in time… or for me.

When they finally did arrive, I pretended to my bannermen that I had always known and had been informed in advance, justifying our position through… a Raven, which, technically, was even true."

His sisters were left speechless.

And not just that-Sansa thought—"Stone" was also my bastard name. Robb didn't know it at the time, but it adds another layer of meaning to the suggestion.

"And the third time?" Arya asked.

"The third time, he spoke more clearly. He chose OUR MOTHER as his vessel, just to give me a heart attack, and to emphasize that I should keep this from her, as he said she wouldn't understand.

He told me that Bran needed to go north to train with him in order to save the world from the White Walkers, and so I had to find a way to justify his absence.

Then he requested i had a meeting that very night, in my tent, alone, with Bran and three other people, so we could make arrangements.

Finally, he asked me to organize this meeting, the day before my wedding, to update you as well, telling me that each of you would have a role to play in the events to come."

"And who are these other three people?"

"You. You can come out now"

Waiting patiently behind the Heart's Tree there were Howland Reed and two young people, short in stature, who had to be his children: a sixteen-year-old girl with an unremarkable face and curly dark brown hair—Meera—and a thirteen-year-old boy with dirty blonde hair and a solemn demeanor—Jojen.

They were all dressed in furs, as hunters of the Neck's swamps.

After introductions were made, Bran said: "I met them at Winterfell, during the harvest feast. And Jojen was the only one able to explain to me why I was having those dreams. Because… he has them too."

"To be precise, I am what is called a GreenSeer," Jojen said, "which means I can sometimes have visions of the future, like Bran. Only, he is far more powerful than I am."

"Among us Crannogmen, the ancient traditions are still respected," Howland added. "We remember the teachings of the Children of the Forest… the wisdom of the Weirwood trees… we truly worship the Old Gods."

"And not only that," Meera added. "Bran has another power as well."

"He is what is called a Skinchanger," explained the voice coming from Rickon.

"That is, he can possess the bodies of other beings and control their actions from a distance… just as I am doing now with your brother. Though, for now, he can only do it with entities with which he has a special bond… like with Summer."

"And for now, I can only do that while dreaming," Bran admitted.

Arya gasped.

"But… I'VE ALSO had… dreams where… I was Nymeria, my direwolf, and I controlled her! Does that mean… does that mean that…"

"Yes, it's true," confirmed the Three-Eyed Raven. "You Stark children are all skinchangers. And so is Jon Snow."

That was harder to process. Arya felt even worse about having had to drive Nymeria away.

Then she saw Sansa's even sadder face and remembered that Lady was actually dead—she would never again have that special bond with her. She took her hand to comfort her.

"It was no coincidence that you found those direwolf pups—it was fate. For the first time in millennia, so many people of the same blood, with the same power. You are connected to them.

Even Robb is linked to Grey Wind… on a couple of occasions, his wolf has helped him in battle without him knowing, and he often obeys his commands as if he reads his thoughts."

"So it's true, all of you are skinchangers… extraordinary. But only Bran is ALSO a GreenSeer… that can't be a coincidence," Jojen specified.

"No, it's not. One person in ten thousand might be a skinchanger, and they usually never realize it. They just think they're having strange dreams.

But only one skinchanger in ten thousand is also a GreenSeer.

Only someone with both powers can be a suitable candidate."

"A candidate for what?" Sansa was afraid to ask.

"To train to take my place. To become the next Three-Eyed Raven."

---

This time, a stunned silence fell. It lasted for a while, as everyone felt chills down their spines, realizing the meaning of those words. They did not dare to speak, as if doing so would make it all real again.

"But... what does that mean, exactly?" Arya finally dared to ask.

"It means going North, beyond the Wall. To the place where I live, the only one where he can train and where I can transfer my knowledge to him.

And then take my place, because my time is coming to an end. And just as there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, so too must there always be a Three-Eyed Raven in the world."

"To... do what?" Sansa asked, terrified.

"To watch over humanity. And in this age, also to guide it.

To stop the evil that threatens the world.

Stark children, as I told you, it is no coincidence that you found those direwolves. As your house motto says, winter is coming.

Your house was born from the heroes who stopped the ancient evil: the Others. But they were not entirely destroyed: the Wall was built to keep them beyond it, and the Night's Watch to fight them.

And now they are returning."

"Jon..." Arya whimpered.

"However, my task, mind you, is not to fight them directly.

I do not have that kind of power.

My task is to guide humanity so that it can fight them on its own.

And for that to happen, certain conditions must be met. Certain pieces must be placed on the board in specific positions rather than others.

Some people must follow a certain destiny, learn to harness their talents, play a certain role, be in a certain place instead of another at the right time."

This time, Meera Reed spoke up: "You said you see the future. So... do you already know how this story will end? Whether we will win or lose?

And can you tell us how? Do you know WHO must take on a certain role?"

"No, Meera Reed, but your curiosity is legitimate. Let me explain better.

Think of how many times your life has changed by a hair's breadth.

If you had chosen to go right instead of left while taking a walk. You don't realize it, but every time you make any choice, you are altering the fate of entire kingdoms.

Each of you is like a character in a novel. The author can decide whether they win or lose, marry or die.

The choices they make will take them in an unexpected and unpredictable direction the moment they make them."

"I... I fear I don't understand. Are you saying that..."

"That I can see through time and space, Sansa Stark.

And alter events, to a certain extent.

I can possess people even in a time far from my own, to make them do what I desire. Make them say something that in turn caused someone else to act differently.

And this can have enormous consequences... if the right moment and the right person are chosen.

In this way, their story is changed. And consequently, so is everyone else's."

"So you... are saying that you are the author of the novel, instead?" Sansa asked. "That you can decide how to change everyone's fates?"

"Could you have gone back in time and saved our father?" Arya asked angrily.

"No, I could not have.

And I am not the author of the novel.

Just like you, despite everything, I am only one of the characters.

I can see what outcomes certain choices might have in the future, but I can neither see very far ahead from my own time nor go back much to change them."

"And that means," Robb interrupted, "that if this story is to conclude many years from now, but you cannot see that far ahead..."

"Exactly, Robb Stark: not even I know how this story will end.

Nor do I know how to save us all from the Others.

However, I have seen some possible outcomes, creating really unfavorable conditions for the fight to take place... and I decided to intervene."

"And why did you?" Jojen Reed asked him, with the same confidence he would have with his sister. "If this story is far from over, how do you know that the changes you made are positive? They could also be counterproductive, for all you know."

"A wise observation, young Jojen. That is why I use this ability as little as possible. And when I do, I make minimal interventions.

The new events must be coherent... they must be something those people could reasonably have said or done for real.

But I did it because... even if I cannot see the final outcome... some of the possible futures turned as such that... humanity was unlikely to survive."

"And why only... minimal interventions? Why not directly change a major event?" Arya asked hesitantly.

"Because if I tried, time itself would rebel against my interference, and they would fail.

In a way, the very fact that I have successfully altered your stories proves that I have made sensible changes... this version of the story is acceptable. The gods have not rebelled.

I can do things that seem incredible to you, and they are. But I am not omnipotent."

The discussion was dizzying.

"So, our lives... have been changed? How?" Robb asked.

"I cannot tell you, Robb of House Stark. If I did, you would stop acting spontaneously... you would start wondering what you should do to help me... and perhaps end up, without realizing it, doing something wrong, something counterproductive.

However, know this: although you would have done almost everything the same way even without my intervention, in the end, you would not have ascended the Iron Throne."

At those words, another silence fell.

"And why am I sitting on it, then?" he finally asked. He was sweating cold, but she needed to know.

"Because Stannis Baratheon and the Red Woman were right... about one thing, at least.

That only a strong and united kingdom can hope to stand against the Others and the other threats that will come.

And all of you Stark children have a role to play in the fight against them.

If any one of you had died in these years, you would not have been able to fulfill your part... and then you all would have died.

If you, even though victorious, had returned to the North without claiming the throne... then you all would have died.

Because the wrong person on the Iron Throne... would not be able to unite the realm against the Others. And Stannis was the wrong person. He is incapable of bringing people together."

"So basically," Jojen reaffirmed, "you don't know what we should do, but you are certain about what we must not do."

"Exactly, Jojen Reed. Even the secret to defeating the Others... Bran Stark can discover it, if he takes my place.

But if I were to tell you now... the gods would oppose such a drastic change, and you would be doomed to fail.

Now, I can no longer alter the past. It is a power that can only be used sparingly, a few times.

But I trust that all the pieces are in the right place. You can continue on your own.

And then it will be Bran's turn. It will depend on him how this story ends. Whether the world will live... or perish."

For a long moment, everyone remained silent, shaken.

What they had been told was immense. A responsibility that made their skins tremble.

"And what about what Stannis Baratheon believed in?

The Prince That Was Promised ?"

"That is an ancient prophecy that has spread across the world in different forms.

It speaks of the hero who is supposed to save us all from the Long Night.

Melisandre believed it was Stannis, but she was wrong. Let's just say that the fact he is dead is the best proof of that. Even if he had defeated you, he was still destined to fail.

Moreover, the Prince is the only person whose fate, in general, I cannot alter even if I wanted to. But I can change everyone else's, to make its task easier."

"So you mean... that I am NOT The Prince That Was Promised?" Robb asked, a shiver in his voice. He had hoped to hear a clear "no."

"No... you are not, Robb Stark. But if you are King, you could create the necessary conditions for its victory when the time comes."

"And so... you won't give us any more guidance?" the King continued. "Damn it, how am I supposed to create the right conditions for this Prince if I have no idea who he is? Easy for you to say: act spontaneously. Now we really risk doing something counterproductive while we rack our brains."

"Regarding this, Robb Stark... remember the sand."

And at that moment, the Raven ceased possessing Rickon Stark, and the boy collapsed onto the leaves.

"RICKON!" Sansa shouted, standing up, but soon they all sighed in relief, seeing that he was fine, merely lost in deep sleep.

For a few minutes, no one spoke. The Wall, the Others, the Prince That Was Promised... it all seemed like madness. And yet... magic existed, they knew that by now.

So this Three-Eyed Raven must have spoken the truth as well.

Arya turned, full of suspicion, both to Bran and the Reeds.

"So, you knew. That's why you had no objections when Robb named Rickon heir in your place. And you... you came all the way here to take our brother away... to that... Three-Eyed Raven!"

"Beyond the Wall?" Sansa moaned. "But that's madness! Didn't you say... that a wildling army is gathering there? And that the Others are awakening? Bran should go to that place? He's only ten years old and on top of that..."

"...I am crippled," he finished. "I know, Sansa, and believe me, I know how dangerous it is. But the Raven's words are true, we have had many proofs. If I do NOT go... we will die. It is not a question of IF, but of WHEN. So we must at least... make an attempt."

"I understand your concerns," said Howland Reed, "but I assure you that my own children will accompany Prince Brandon on this dangerous journey. Moreover, his direwolf, Summer, will go with him."

"And if Bran can show us the exact path, we will stay away from danger," Jojen reaffirmed.

"Are you joking?" the red-haired girl interjected. "Robb is the King of the damned Seven Kingdoms! Why should you go alone? Have an entire army accompany you instead."

"Sansa," Robb explained, "I have just become King, and if I sent my crippled brother beyond the Wall with an army, they would think i'm mad, and that would not help in making them listen to me in the future. Furthermore, it seems exactly the kind of conspicuous intervention that the Raven wants us to avoid."

"Not to mention that the mission requires secrecy," Bran reaffirmed. "A large army would be noticed immediately. By the wildlings, by these undead, by the Others... we need to reach the Three-Eyed Raven without anyone else knowing."

"Furthermore, I think that Hodor should also go with them. He has cared for Bran since the accident and will certainly be very useful," Robb reassured them. "Finally, they will make most of the journey by sea: I will send a Northern ship, one of Lord Manderly's, with a few men whom I will swear to secrecy. They will pass Eastwatch, the easternmost fortress of the Night's Watch," he said, showing them a map, "and they will land... let's say here, a bit south of Hardhome. From there, the path should not be too long, and also fairly safe."

"Wait a moment," Sansa interjected, "so you intend to keep all of this a secret from our mother, right? She would never accept to send Bran up there. But you... you declared that you would send him to the Citadel to study. So that was... a lie? Told to have a cover? But... who will you send in his place?"

"We'll see to that-Howland Reed interjected-among the boys of the Crannog there is one who might look a little like Bran... if he is only seen by those who have never met him, but have only heard of him... and certainly no one at the Citadel knows the Prince…plus, I'm told, it's not unusual for their students not to see relatives and friends for years on end... and above all, he too is crippled... for a different reason, a lizard-lion bite to the back when he was a child, which lacerated his tendons... but no one will be able to tell the difference. As a result of the accident, he can't hunt, so he's been put to do arithmetic and transcribe the tribe's scrolls...we think he'll be able to study at the Citadel with profit and play his part well."

"You want to send him there instead of Bran?-Arya asked-another such elaborate deception...did the Raven suggest it to you? Last week?"

"No, that's not correct-explained Jojen-in fact, last week only the five of us talked. But the Raven had sent me a dream, months ago, suggesting that we take Hinlet with us when we came to the South. Then Bran confirmed that he had been instructed to go North for training... and then everything was clear. His absence had to be prevented from being noticed. So His Majesty King Robb made that decision about Bran... which might have been the right decision anyway, and we thought about how to arrange it."

Then Robb showed them the map again.

"Bran will necessarily have to greet us in person and get on the right ship, of course...but then there will be an exchange, let's say here...in the Strait of Tarth...there are islands where Davos told me he used to hide when he was a smuggler...but he doesn't know anything about this...he knows enough of our secrets already... the other, smaller Manderly boat will be waiting for them here with Hinlet, whom we will teach, during these weeks, how Bran behaves and speaks, and some details and anecdotes of his life, in order to be credible... Bran will board the other boat, and Hinlet on the 'official' one, which will continue to Old Town... while Bran, with Jojen, Meera, Hodor and Summer, will continue north"

"So old Manderly knows the truth" Sansa affirmed.

"He only knows that his King has asked him a favour-affirmed Robb-that concerns the ancient traditions of the North, and it is a matter of safety. And he's the kind of man who would do anything for his lord, no questions asked"

"But...I do not understand-insisted Arya-if Hodor accompanies Bran, he will not return to Winterfell, nor will Summer...how will you justify it?"

"Unfortunately, little sister, I'm afraid we'll have to tell people that Hodor is dead, otherwise questions would arise. We could say that he was accompanying Bran, but that on the sea voyage he fell ill, or that he fell overboard...or, better still, say that we sent him to Skagos, along with Summer, because the direwolf had become violent, in Bran's absence, and the shamans of the island knew how to calm him down...we'll have to come up with something."

"But that's cruel!"

"You'll break Old Nan's heart!"

"Girls, I don't like this story any more than you do, but apparently...it has befallen to us to live in this age, the very one of the return of the Others...I will sit on that damned Throne, away from all of you, it seems, just so I can organise the defence against them"

"But should we fail-rebutted Jojen-we will all die anyway. And then there will have been no point in sparing someone's feelings for a month or an year."

"And our mother too..." bellowed Sansa.

"Believe me, sister, after all she's been through, I feel like a worm at the idea of making her suffer any more-Robb rebutted, contrite-and even more so at the idea of lying to her, exposing Bran to danger without her knowledge: she would only deserve to return to Winterfell with all of you and seek some serenity.

On the other hand, we have no alternative. We cannot do what we want, but what we must. We have a duty to perform, one that apparently only we can perform.

And what we have learned so far: me how to win battles and now how to rule, Bran how to 'move the pawns', Sansa politics and diplomacy, Arya combat and espionage...these are all things that will obviously have a use in the future in dealing with this crisis.

Think of our brother Jon, who stands beyond the Wall, fighting Wildlings and who knows what else: we all have our part to play, big or small."

All the Stark brothers, looked at each other, in silence.

"And what did the Raven mean, about the Sand?" asked Arya.

"I...I don't know- admitted Robb-but I can try to imagine it...if by the Stone he meant the Vale of Arryn, by the Sand, it may mean..."

"Dorne!" exclaimed Sansa.

"Right, the Martells must have...a role to play, for better or for worse, but I don't know which one, yet. And they've actually made me a proposal, to peacefully join the kingdom...one you won't like...but at this point, it's best to accept it...we need someone over there, to be our eyes and ears among them.

They are a different people from all others: from them women can inherit, people freely love who they want, and it is said that Oberyn Martell's daughters, the Sand Snakes, have even learned to fight like men...which gives me a certain idea..."

Arya saw that they were all staring at her. "What? Are you joking?"

"Of course, it would also make sense..." reflected Sansa "it will seem in any case, a choice made for the Kingdom...and it may even end up to really be the case."

"But I don't want to!" protested the younger one.

"Arya-Bran said, looking her in the eyes-I don't want to go beyond the Wall either. Or rather, in truth I want to: I want to learn what the Three-Eyed Raven can teach me, and I want to stop feeling like a cripple.

But I don't want to be separated from you all, again. But if that's the price I have to pay to get back to laughing and joking all together in Winterfell...I'll pay it."

They looked at each other again, all in silence.

Arya realised this was her chance.

It was the way she too would make herself useful.

"You know...I remembered something...that Dad used to tell us," she then said.

And then, one by one, caught up in that memory, they began to speak.

Sansa: "When the snow falls..."

Robb: "...And the white winds blow..."

Arya: "...the lone wolf dies..."

Bran: "...but the pack survives."

When they had finished, they were silent again, for a long time, contemplating.

Robb sighed. "Aah, our mother will kill me. Come on, let's wake up Rickon."]

---

[BACK IN THE BALLROOM]

Quentyn Martell went with a certain boldness-he was a young man of fourteen, somewhat pudgy, and with black, curly hair that fell to the sides of his face-to Arya, almost pointing at her.

The previous dance was over, so he half-bowed to Gendry and took her hands from his and began to dance with her, confidently.

Gendry stood there dumbfounded watching them, Arya didn't look enthusiastic, but followed him.

Aryanne, meanwhile, was talking to the King and Queen. It was not clear what she was saying, but everyone was nodding. Robb did not look happy at all, but he was determined.

His younger sister glanced at him from across the room. He nodded.

---

A few weeks later, the whole court gathered and saw the royal family bid farewell to Prince Bran, who was leaving on a ship for OldTown. With him were Hodor and Summer, who would not be disembarking at the Citadel.

As he waved goodbye to his mother, moved that she was once again about to lose her favourite son, Bran felt his stomach tighten at the idea of the task ahead of him. And he couldn't shake a nagging feeling.

I'll also have to give up the wheelchair. I hope Hinlet treats it well

---

A few days later, a dejected Catelyn Stark was riding with her small retinue back north along the King's Road. She had not seen Winterfell in years, and it was amazing to think how much had changed in the meantime.

All she had left was Rickon now...and in a few months, they would be joined again by Sansa, who for now was helping Robb form the new court.

As for Arya...well, maybe she would be happy there.

All she could think of was that she had seen her again for too short a time.

---

Arya Stark heard the carriage that was part of the caravan that would take her to Dorne shudder again. Unfortunately, for quite a while, they had to travel along bumpy roads before entering the principality of the sands, the last to have joined the Seven Kingdoms and the one with the fewest roads.

She noticed Brienne riding beside her carriage, in the middle of the convoy.

She was glad she was there. She liked Brienne. In the days when all the Sworn Shields had been at the Red Keep together, she had duelled with the Hound almost every day-the two did not like each other at all-and their fights were always spectacular, and even terrifying, or so Mychel and Lucas thought.

She had chosen Brienne as her Sworn Shield, and would therefore come to Dorne, too, to watch over her.

She had been chosen as the bride-to-be of Quentyn Martell, second son and first male of Prince Doran-now a princess herself, it was strange to think- destined to marry him when she turned sixteen, which would be still quite a while.

It was agreed that she would go down and the caravan of Princess Myrcella-whose betrothal had been called off, to promise her to a Lannister of Lannisport, in exchange for her father's ships-would come up in the opposite direction. Soon they would pass each other on the road.

Practically a hostage exchange.

But with Myrcella there will also be Doran's brother, Oberyn Martell, ready to serve in the Small Council. So no one would dare harm me as long as he is at court.

After all, Dorne sounds like a nice place to be. The kind of place I dreamed of seeing as a child.

Then he thought of Gendry, alone at Storm's End. And for some reason she felt sad.

---

Robb awoke in the royal bed, beside Margaery.

He often tried not to think about the task ahead of them, and told himself that he just had to learn to rule the Seven Kingdoms-a task, even alone, to make one's skin crawl-and at the same time watch the situation unfold, ready to intervene.

And for the rest, trust his siblings.

Stannis said that The King is Alone...but that is not true. I have my family with me. Even though we are far apart, we are marching in the same direction.

Margaery awoke, sleepy, noticing that he was already awake.

"Mmmh...what is it...My King? Any trouble?"

Robb turned to look at her.

Gods, she's so beautiful even all disheveled and cispy-eyed.

"Nothing, My Queen, go back to sleep."

And maybe...the people I can count on have just increased

---

Sansa was going through a list of possible court ladies. Robb wanted to be sure that there were not too many fixed people at court, and that they were the right ones, to please the various Houses.

It was also necessary to speculate which ones might be spies of Littlefinger, or the Tyrells, or who knows who else.

And planting their spies, of course, something only she could do.

She realised that as she read she had arrived, absent-mindedly, at the Red Keep's Godswood.

She lowered the sheets and contemplated that place. There had been a time, while she was a hostage in that cursed city, when going there was the only way she could find comfort. She thought back to Ser Dontos, with sadness.

But she had never prayed there, really, or rather, she had not done so since her father died.

She had also been brought up with the gods of her mother. She had always found the Old Gods cold and... just as Robb said, they had a habit of never answering prayers. Until recently, of course.

She caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It was Grey Wind.

She became sad again, thinking of Lady.

The Three-Eyed Raven had said that it was fate for the direwolves to meet the young Starks.

Sansa realised that the fate of each of the beasts was tied to their owners, as if epitomizing their roles.

The boys still had their own: it meant they would fight, one way or another, the advancing tide.

Arya had pushed Nymeria away, but her wolf was still alive: it exemplified what her sister was doing right now, distancing herself from the rest of the family, yes, but only out of necessity.

And Lady was dead...which probably meant that her job was not to deal with supernatural matters, but with the affairs of men. To allow everyone else to perform their duties to the best of their ability.

Sansa Stark knelt before the Heart's Tree.

And for the first time in years, she prayed.

For her brothers, for her sister...and for Jon.

---

EPILOGUE

Jon Snow awoke, his much-needed restful sleep disturbed by something he was no longer used to. The sound of heaps of people, the rattling of wagons, the braying of donkeys and the neighing of horses.

He opened his eyes: the rays coming in through the window indicated that the sun was already high.

He forced himself to get up: the curiosity was too much.

He wrapped himself in the white furs they had put on his bed and walked, weakly, out of the room.

Arriving at the side of the gate, he asked if he could leave. One of the two guards grunted, but the other said, "Let him out, where do you want him to go anyway?"

Jon couldn't help emitting a half grunt as he walked down the corridor leading to the mezzanine of the inner court.

Since he had escaped from the Wildling group to return to Castle Black to warn his brethren of the threat, not only had Ygritte shot him with three arrows that had nearly killed him, two in the back and one in the leg, but once he had arrived, his brethren in black, in return for the courtesy, had first treated him and then thrown him into a cell, charged with desertion.

Of course, you idiot, what did you expect,' thought Jon, furious with everyone and especially with himself, 'that they would believe that I went with the Wildlings to spy on them because Qorhin the Halfhand ordered me to? That they would believe the word of a dead man?

Then he flashed.

Ygritte.

Definitely, I did not slept with her because Qorhin the Halfhand ordered me to.

But it no longer matters...

As he reached the balustrade, high enough to see over the perimeter walls, Jon was left speechless.

A seemingly endless column of people was approaching the Black Gate.

Accompanied by countless carts drawn by horses, oxen and mules.

"What the heck..."

In that he was roused by a familiar voice, belonging to someone who was running towards him.

"Jon! JON!"

Jon turned around. It must have been the first time he had ever seen Samwell Tarly run.

His friend was all over him, so excited he couldn't find the words.

"Did you see that? Did you see?" he kept repeating.

"I saw, but...Sam, WHO ARE these people?"

"These people are recruits, Jon. Recruits of the Night's Watch. Three thousand, maybe more! And not only that, there are supplies, and furs, and weapons, and...repair materials, even!

And that's not all, Jon! The lands of the Gift are being repopulated! There are new villages springing up...people who will grow food for us Watchers!"

"But...how is that possible? Where are all these people coming from?"

"Jon, this is...wonderful news! It happened while...well you were gone, and then during your convalescence. The War of the Five Kings is over.

Now, there is a new King on the Iron Throne, who has sent his defeated enemies here, to serve in the Night's Watch. To help us. Isn't it great? With all these people...I feel like we have a chance, for the first time."

Jon was speechless and set his gaze on the long human column again.

It was true. There were wagons that, from the reflections of the sun on the metal, must have been indeed loaded with weapons, and others full of food and...

He was stirred by a thought. He turned to Sam.

"You said the new king sent them here?

Sam, but...WHO is the King now?"

END OF PART 1

---

Author's Note:

And so, here we are. It's been a long road, one that has led me in directions other than those i thought at first.

I tend to plan my fanfictions, and in this case, i had pretty much laid out this one, but i had no idea how to continue; except that i WANTED to make a trilogy and have an alternate version of the story, going on until the conclusion, hoping to make a more satisfying one than the series, but also diverging from the books under some elements.

Now, i understand how this chapter's big revelation might receive mixed reactions, either in spirit and in practical application.

I hope none of you people who have followed the story and have been so supportive to me will stop doing so just because of that.

Having the Three Eyed Raven address directly the characters to tell them their mission definitely feels like an 80's fantasy flick. BUT…

It's also true that the Three Eyed Raven-taking for granted that he TRULY has the purpose of saving humanity-will have to interact with people, somewhat…and it is a pretty popular theory that going back in time, one could also theorically interact with people, and change the future, creating a paradox, like Bran with Hodor in the show (which would counter, in itself, Bloodraven statement that you cannot do it and should not try it) and thus making the story about parallel temporal lines, much like a Marvel multiverse story.

BUT…there's a fat chance this truly is the case (not that we ever will see the conclusion of the books to confirm the theory…) or, at least, that the power to see in the past will help people in the present to solve otherwise impossible problems (like discovering the origin and purpose of the White Walkers and the secret to how to defeat them).

In my case, i've used this interpretation to retroactively justify how Robb story has diverged from the original canon: it is the Raven who deemed better for the future, to have him as King on the Iron Throne rather than…Tommen. Go figure ;)

And in the end, Robb was not GIVEN his victories: as you'll see in the appendix (but it's not much different than having read the fanfiction) interventions were minimal and yet had enormous consequences; and Robb still had to fight by himself and won truly by his own merit.

Same for Bran: yes, he received prophetic dreams here and there, but it's still the same than in canon; only that here he somewhat used them to make better decisions; it takes nothing away from the skill of a TEN year old boy: he interpreted them correctly and then deliberated on his own how to operate.

In a way, we can say it was a trial of sort by the Raven to verify he could inherit his role as a "pawn-mover".

In the end, the Raven informing the Stark children is not much different than Melisandre telling Stannis he has to fight the Long Night…but after having done this, the entity disappears, and next fanfiction will just be about characters acting as they deem fit, with no supernatural intervention.

However, the Raven fulfills three crucial goals:

1. Every Stark is aware of the threat, more importantly Robb

2. Bran still goes North to train with him

3. Arya goes South to the Martells as a promised bride (something that will have repercussions in the future)

These are all situations that never would've happened otherwise, and they are all essential to save humanity.

The Raven's purpose is to "position the pawns" on the correct position on the chessboard, and then let them act on their own…

Speaking about the rest; Gendry and Arya were in the middle of something (that Sansa provided to set up), but Quentyn ruined it…who knows about the future.

Robb and Margaery marry, but the "Happily Ever After" is still far.

Next fanfiction will have lots of politics and events that will happen as a consequence of this one, and will be original; whilst the Wall and the Slaver's Bay events will sometime follow, sometime by inspired by canon books and show, although could result somewhat differently.

Govern the Kingdom is much more difficult than conquering; Robb will realize it…and doing so while ALSO, secretly, having to plan for protecting the world from the Others is even more difficult.

Finally, i wanted to have that final moment between Catelyn and Littlefinger…she's grateful of his contribution in saving his children, but she does not trust him anymore. Mind you: he technically never lied to her, yet achieved never telling the truth, either.

Will he behave in Robb's council? Or will he simply be…Littlefinger?

---

Appendix 1: FAQ

What changes did the Three-Eyed Raven make?

He basically just did ONE THING: possessed that girl, Myrella, in Chapter 1 to indirectly suggest to Catelyn how to persuade Robb not to send Theon away without a negotiation. This resulted in this huge domino effect:

-Theon did not leave and therefore never betrayed Robb

-Theon, having seen Balon, he guessed his intentions and, conversely, warned Robb of the danger

-At the emergency meeting, Robb explained his plan to everyone, including Edmure, who will therefore comply with his orders and let Tywin through

-having heard about the River Lords wanting revenge, Robb leaves Brynden with Edmure to help him control them

-A week having passed for the journey to the coast and back, in the meantime Roose Bolton had returned to Riverrun (this is another change of mine, it follows more the events of the series than the books. Or maybe it's still the Raven's doing, who knows…).

-as a result, Robb ' casually overheard' the soldiers' conversation, and decided to take Roose West, to keep an eye on him. This has prevented Bolton from doing all the other things he does in the books to belittle Robb, since he takes Harrenhal, that is instead taken by Greatjon

-Catelyn has therefore left to go to Renly Baratheon a bit late; and this alone causes so many, small changes, such as Stannis killing Cortney Penrose and taking Storm's End and retrieving Edric Storm BEFORE Renly arrives; but also him being somewhat more prone to listen to her, due to the inconvenience

-plus, Renly was alone with the three women in the tent when he was killed, so Loras doesn't kill Robar Royce and Emmon Cuy, believing them accomplices

-And of course, without Theon taking Winterfell, there's no fake death of Bran and Rickon, so Robb doesn't sleep with Jeyne Westerling while wounded and grieving, just as Catelyn doesn't accept the proposal to free Jaime Lannister to get the girls back, because she's not that desperate in this scenario

-and as a result, the Karstarks do not betray, while the Freys and Boltons do it in somewhat different circumstances, but still Robb and his people are not at risk of suffering the Red Wedding

All this happened JUST BECAUSE Robb did not sent Theon back, but spent a week for meeting Balon.

Every other event just happens spontaneously, with no intervention from the Raven.

Let's say that warning Robb about the 'Stone' causes the final battle to happen in a place favorable to the intervention of the Vale of Arryn, and also with a favorable timing, so they too take credit for the victory and participate in the governance of the Seven Kingdoms, but they would have intervened even if it had taken place elsewhere; plus, it does not change the overall outcome of the war: Robb would've won anyway.

Another minor change, possibly unrelated, is that Arya chooses a couple of different people as Jaqen's targets: the death of Amory Lorch causes Tywin to leave Gregor Clegane in Harrenhal on his way to the West.

It's also possible that messing with timelines causes minor details like these to change as well.

---

Appendix 2: Lords, Power Distribution and the Small Council Members

King: Robb Stark

Queen: Margaery Tyrell

Hand of the King: 'Bronze' Yohn Royce

Master of Coin: Mace Tyrell

Master of Laws: assigned to Dorne, possibly Oberyn Martell (since Doran cannot travel due to his health)

Master of Ships: Wyman Manderly

Master of War: Brynden Tully, the 'Blackfish'

Master of Whispers: Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Loras Tyrell

Grand Maester: Cressen

Commander of the Golden Cloaks: Robett Glover

Lord of Winterfell: Rickon Stark, with Regent his mother, Catelyn Stark

Lord of Casterly Rock: Tyrion Lannister

Lord of the Eyre: Robin Arryn, Regent Petyr Baelish, Steward Morton Waynwood

Lord of Riverrun: Edmure Tully

Lord of Highgarden: Mace Tyrell, but in his absence the Regent is Willas Tyrell

Lord of Storm's End: Gendry Baratheon

Lord of SunSpear: Doran Martell

Lord of the Iron Islands: Theon Greyjoy

Protector of the North: Greatjon Umber

Protector of the West: Addam Marbrand

Protector of the East: 'Bronze' Yohn Royce

Protector of the South: Garlan Tyrell

Kingsguard:

Reach: Loras Tyrell (Commander)

North: Dacey Mormont

Riverlands: Lucas Blackwood

Vale: Mychel Redfort

Westerlands: Sandor Clegane

Stormlands: Brienne of Tarth

Dorne: to be decided

---

Appendix 3: and now?

The next fanfiction, second in the trilogy, will be titled:

The Kingdom of the Wolf and the Rose

You can find it soon on this very site and i might add the link to it in the next chapter for a smoother progression to people who will read this in the future.

However, i won't be able to post one chapter per week like this one, since i'm still developing it.

See you soon ;)